Tag Archives: Lola Stakenburg

ME AND MY YEAR OF CASUAL MONASTICISM

★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

ME AND MY YEAR OF CASUAL MONASTICISM

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★

“The piece works neither as an intimate confessional monologue nor as a sharp comedy”

‘Me and My Year of Casual Monasticism’, written, directed, and performed by Emily Knutsson, is about a semi-autobiographical piece about a Cambridge University student who chooses to become celibate for a year. Inspired by the sixth-century Rules of Benedict, ‘Mary’ encounters a host of horny ‘fellow sexy monks’ (other students) whom she heroically wards off with her monasticism. As a Cambridge graduate who studied medieval and early modern history, I hoped I would love this show.

The tiny stage at Riddle’s Court hosts an armchair, some candles, a crucifix, and a projector: Mary tells the story as a pitch for a show. Knutsson is an engaging storyteller, but she seems self-aware and unsure of whether she is playing a character or not. It doesn’t help that she’s hiding behind the powerpoint, projected onto a screen behind Knutsson that she’s perpetually blocking. The ‘presentation’ keeps her in a one-note, upbeat TED-talk mode that leaves little space for vulnerability and thus variation. The issue originates from the script.

Ostensibly a comedic confessional piece, Knutsson does not ever allow her character to be uncomfortable, embarrassed, or indeed much other than the Hot Girl Who the Boys Want But Can’t Have. Mary tells us she has chosen to take a break from dating and sex after ‘a few traumatic weeks’ in the first term, which despite being the catalyst for her self-imposed celibacy are not elaborated upon. Additionally, something unpleasant/bad/shameful happened with her ex boyfriend, but what that was remains elusive. Every time Knutsson begins to mention sex, she (metaphorically) slaps herself on the wrist and swiftly moves on – rather surprising for a show that advertises itself as offering a ‘shockingly fresh and innovative approach to sex’.

If Mary’s actual life story remains underexamined, the same is true for her early medieval fantasy. The allegory between a Cambridge college and a monastery works well, precisely because various colleges (including my own, Magdalene) have monastic foundations. Many universities, including Oxford, originated as centres of monastic education. Highlighting the similarities between medieval monks and modern day students has theatrical potential, if only Knutsson had doubled down on her theme.

While the Rules of St Benedict form an effective narrative device that lends the show cohesion, their imagery and cultural context are underutilised. For example, it is striking that Knutsson completely omits a discussion of religion, of church-imposed sexual shame, and the concept of sin. Ecclesiastical imagery is infinitely rich, yet Knuttson does not take advantage. Given that Knutsson shies away from exposing too much detail about her/Mary’s life, it would have worked well to exaggerate her chosen allegory to the absurd. Where is the scene in which Mary takes a melodramatic vow of celibacy in her college chapel? The dramatic disposal of her collection of sex toys into the communal bins? And where is her goddamned monk costume, styled from her formal gown? (I jest, sort of…)

The piece works neither as an intimate confessional monologue nor as a sharp comedy. Inattentive to its historical references and shy of revealing personal details (real or fictional, I could care less), the script unfortunately falls flat. The story has potential; no doubt a second pair of eyes, perhaps in the form of a dramaturg or a director other than herself, would help to remedy some of these issues.



ME AND MY YEAR OF CASUAL MONASTICISM

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 15th August 2025 at Pickle Studio at Greenside @ Riddles Court

by Lola Stakenburg

 

 

 

 

 

ME AND MY YEAR

ME AND MY YEAR

ME AND MY YEAR

STAMPTOWN

★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

STAMPTOWN

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★

“Fringe is an excellent space to push boundaries, but to my mind, Stamptown distastefully oversteps them”

Do you remember Rosamund Pike’s ‘Cool Girl’-monologue in Gone Girl (2014), based on Gillian Flynn’s book? The novel explains that the Cool Girl is someone who ‘adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex’. Add Stamptown to that list. From the novel: ’Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want’. I’ll confess I really wanted to be a Cool Girl about Stamptown, but the two stars that top this review are a testament to my shortcomings. An infamous staple of the Edinburgh Fringe, Stamptown provokes in all the wrong ways.

The show’s bad boy ringleader is the American Jack Tucker (real name Zach Zucker), who displays remarkable energy amidst the chaos. He is mostly unfazed by the flurry around him (every ten minutes or so, a group of about 15 men burst onto the stage and dance like they are in a 2016-Justin Bieber music video), and the only thing that breaks him out of his showman’s haze are frequent gunshot sound effects that leave random performers around him lying face-down on the floor. Charming and self-deprecating, Tucker’s jokes are disjointed but derive their humour from the fast pace at which he fires them at the audience. Given that their punchline is often a sound effect, the tech team (led by director Jonny Woolley) does a stellar job at keeping up with him.

Tucker is joined by a whole host of performers. It is tempting to describe rather than analyse the acts because Stamptown clearly resists interpretation. On this particular night, the show includes the able juggler Joe Fisher and a number of comedians. Martin Urbano manages to joke about femicide, domestic violence, and child pornography within about a minute. Be a Cool Girl I think, misogyny is funny, right? Every once in a while, a giant called Cory Peter Lane comes on stage and bashes a can with a hammer, spraying the beer in the general direction of his mouth. Guitarist Bonavega, dressed only in bright neon yellow hotpants, makes out with a bemused Jack Tucker, at which point the host’s hysterical partner/last night’s prostitute (Erin Farrington) makes an entrance. She’s the ‘don’t you hate it when your girlfriend’-joke (which did feature), personified.

There are two female variety acts: Elf Lyons, ‘a woman on the edge’, circles the state in confusion as her dress increasingly creeps her shoulders. I tell myself to give the show the benefit of the doubt: surely it will include one woman who is not emotionally disturbed? All hail, there comes Betty Grumble — but to no avail. The final act of the show, she quickly strips off all her clothes and sticks a flower down her vagina. Be Cool. But amongst the roaring, drunken crowd I feel uncomfortable and sad. Meanwhile, Grumble draws arrows on her body and writes ‘fuck’ on her belly with lipstick. She lets Tucker spit out his water over her as she does a widelegged handstand. She is a Cool Girl.

It’s fair to say that this show wasn’t for me, and based on the reactions in the crowd, a lot of people very much felt like it was for them. Fringe is an excellent space to push boundaries, but to my mind, Stamptown distastefully oversteps them.


STAMPTOWN

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 14th August 2025 at Beyond at Pleasance Courtyard

by Lola Stakenburg

Photography by Renee Dominguez (from previous production)

 

 

 

 

 

STAMPTOWN

STAMPTOWN

STAMPTOWN