Monster

We are all monsters – it’s an inherent trait that resides deep within, waiting to be unleashed. Joe Sellman-Leava’s girlfriend argues the point that no one is innately good. Sellman-Leava’s research discovers that Mike Tyson lashed out, Patrick Stewart kept it locked up inside. He himself seems awkwardly charming, but even he erupts when pushed to the brink.

It’s easy to forget that Monster is a one-man show, such is Sellman-Leava’s skill of inhabiting a plethora of characters. Conversations between multiple people are effortlessly executed; separate scenes are instantly distinguishable. He takes the trouble to demarcate the action from the start, ensuring that the audience are immediately engaged. It means he can skip between narrative threads and never lose focus.

Is it harder to recognise misogyny in celebrities? As a boxing champion, Tyson seemed to detest women; Stewart’s father was violent to his wife, but also a decorated war hero. It’s only one of many passing comments that Sellman-Leava casts out, but a premise that haunts his reality. His internal struggle between being a pacifist and truly understanding his character’s rage is externalised and emotional. Director Tom’s advice is to “man the fuck up” (#everydaysexism). But it ruins his relationship and we all feel the pain – we’re invested in the break-up.

Monster is perfectly paced and performed with very few props – the power of Sellman-Leava’s magnetic storytelling needs no further decoration. He is honest without being gushing, captivating without being anti-climactic.