Written by Brian James O’Sullivan

Directed by Laila Noble

Tickets from £12.00

Brian James O’Sullivan’s one-hander seems to be a herald of the more adventurous nature in this A Play, A Pie, and a Pint season’s roster – pieces which relish the opportunity to manipulate the meta-theatrical boundaries (the upcoming Playthrough looks to push this line even further). 

Meetings With the Monk initially presents itself as a semi-autobiographical piece, simple, right? Yet this curious and well-structured piece happily toys with the authorship of the narrative. O’Sullivan is both the writer and the sole performer. The audience is both ‘in’ on the creative process as well as watching it being performed in front of them, the skeleton of it all on full display (as is Gemma Patchett and Jonny Scott’s set).

In lesser hands, this could be a mess. But with Laila Noble’s meticulous and canny direction, this is easily one of the smartest and most well-presented of the PPP shows this season. Brian struggles with depression, and what’s worse is finding themselves with encroaching darkness they cannot seem to see beyond – worried that something drastic may follow. But the chance encounter with an abbey that his grandmother used to visit causes Brain to run into the titular monk, a monk unlike anyone he has encountered before: religious or otherwise. Perhaps, this is what Brain has been searching for. This thought-provoking and strikingly well-structured production lays bare depression and salvation (in any form) with a rawness, coupled with some exceptionally funny holy men and solid humour.

At the core of this battle of authorship is O’Sullivan’s magnificent performance and presence – one that boldly leaves behind the traditional barriers of storytelling, stepping out of the theatrical space to remind audiences that the person they are watching may not necessarily be the same as the Brian performing the show. We’re never entirely certain where it may lead, but we’re eager to find out.

Being a one-hander the use of sound recording to represent the monk is spoken by another performer, with various versions played at each performance. It offers a more direct, natural response from O’Sullivan, but also means the alignment of everything can be caught off-guard and steps us even further beyond the theatrical space – perhaps too far. Mark Gillespie’s sound design, otherwise, offers a nice richness that stitched other elements together tightly.

What works in droves, however, is Patchett and Scott’s set, which could easily pass for the previous show’s stage having been left behind. Almost ramshackle, abandoned, but so meticulously thought-out and placed by Noble and O’Sullivan, utilising a by-standing, passive technique to drive the audience into the skeleton of the theatre even more convincingly.

Capturing humour, Meetings with the Monk doesn’t seek to offer any profound religious experiences or answers – it does manage to fend off more darkness than it initially seems for such an appropriate and gallantly told story. Eloquently performed, tying together often initially inconsequential background information back into the humour and storytelling, Meetings with the Monk resonates superbly with a calming psalm-like presence deprived of cynicism, and fuelled by a determination to change and heal.