Monologue-heavy shows are very difficult to keep engaging. Searching for pathos, profundity or that old favourite meta-comedy are all methods other shows have used to counter this conundrum, but Symptom of Life distinguishes itself remarkably from the archetypes of its genre. That’s not to say these methods aren’t present, but at its core, this is a sharp, intelligent play that keenly recognises the inherent narcissism of such shows, pairing it with a protagonist who embodies that flaw all too well.

The premise is simple: we follow Lara, a protagonist aware of the audience’s presence, who feels that we have come to judge her for her wrongdoings. She narrates four stories to us, each revolving around her and an encounter with an important person in her life. The play uses these moments as springboards to touch on many themes, such as race, jealousy and faith, before returning to Lara, who offers a reflection on what has taken place. Whilst these themes are profound, their development suffers slightly owing to a combination of the play’s length and its segmented structure. Faith, for example, becomes suddenly central to the final act, but the previous focus towards other themes results in the script having to provide a lot of exposition in order for us to stay engaged. This isn’t a massive detriment to the final act’s impressive quality, but it does mean there is a sag in momentum in what is otherwise a very well-paced production.

“Whilst these themes are profound, their development suffers slightly owing to a combination of the play’s length and its segmented structure”

One of the most publicised features of this play was its moral ambiguity. Its Camdram synopsis states that “the audience are the deciders, the jury” of Lara’s actions. In a preview interview I held with the play’s director Wahida Seisay, we discussed the play as a kind of theatrical Rorschach Test, wherein two people could come away with very different reactions to Lara. Consequently, my experience of the play was informed by this discussion, and so, my judgement was likely different to others in the Playroom. I felt very strongly that Lara is precisely what she says she is: a bad person.

Although not unsympathetic, and much of the time, highly entertaining, I felt the play often placed Lara in situations which lacked much real ethical ambiguity – such as her refusal to submit a potentially life-changing application for her boyfriend; the final story, I would argue, is the only true exception. Seisay seems to be aware of this: hence Lara’s self-acknowledged unreliability as a narrator, yet positioning this betrayal directly before the play’s final conflict still feels somewhat risky: it feels like we’ve already made our mind up about Lara before the moment we are meant to sympathise with her the most.

“Spending almost 90 continuous minutes on stage is a Herculean task, but Tel Chiuri more than rises to the challenge”

The cast is delightful throughout. Spending almost 90 continuous minutes on stage is a Herculean task, but Tel Chiuri more than rises to the challenge. Simultaneously authentic and dramatically pertinent, if a little quick at points, her dedication to the role of Lara is awe-inspiring, and elicited quite a few deep breaths from my section in the Corpus Playroom. The rest of the cast, despite having an average of about 10 minutes on stage, do more than enough to leave a wonderful impression. Rafael Griso’s delightful performance as Lara’s boyfriend, Ben, galvanises the play’s most heartwarming moments, and subsequently, some of its most heart-wrenching. His triple-threat status is undoubtable at this point, and I implore all the plays he’s involved with to take full advantage of it!

Eden Mackenzie shines as the most accurate version of a whiny schoolgirl I’ve seen since Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, and gets to be the subject of a fantastic joke that had my inner English student howling. Her mannerisms and body language are both highly impressive, and the same can be said for the play’s resident obnoxious teacher, Mr Finigan, played by a faultless Sam Whitby. The fact that this is Mackenzie and Whitby’s first CamDram project speaks volumes about their director, Wahida, and I can only hope that both of them continue to grace the Cambridge stage.

Ruthie Adeleke receives the most challenging role in the ensemble – a dying mother struggling to preserve both her life and her faith. Yet, in the brief moments she has, her performance remains deeply moving, capturing the character’s quiet resilience and sorrow with remarkable subtlety. The set choices are similarly minimal, yet highly effective – the intimacy of Lara’s room makes great use of the Corpus venue, drawing the audience further into her world and imbuing the play with a confessional, self-reflective tone.

“As I left, I wondered what I or anyone would do if we had our lives projected to an audience in the same way”

One of the key takeaways from my interview with Wahida was that this play is meant to be challenging. Undoubtedly, there are moments of deep sadness and ethical profundity which resonate throughout, even if some moments provide more food for thought than others. Its most beautiful moment for me, however, arrives towards the end: the lights in the Playroom come up, but Lara is still talking. She reminds us that we are all judges of each other. As I left, I wondered what I or anyone would do if we had our lives projected to an audience in the same way. Would we be perceived as fair? Or balanced? Or cruel? Maybe Lara was a bad person, but maybe it’s also ok to think that she should be forgiven – the differences in our judgements are, after all, a symptom of life.

′Symptom of Life’ showed at the Corpus Playroom from Wednesday 5 until Saturday 8 February, at 9:30pm.

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