Benedict Esdale’s one-man show, echoes of allegory with its set of caricatures and winding narrative

Benedict Esdale does it all in this entertaining 50-minute piece. He portrays a plethora of characters and serves as the production’s primary narrative driving force. The play opens with a whirlwind of characters, Esdale switching between them with impressive speed. While at first it seems impossible to keep track of who-is-who, Esdale’s immensely specific and distinct character choices make the characters quickly fall into a logical cerebral order. It becomes easy to follow the piece’s narrative despite one person playing every single character. In many one-man productions, productions generally stick to a small number of characters for the sole performer to switch in between. Knapsack flies in the face of this generality, creating a play that hosts a myriad of complex people that fill the life of the piece’s protagonist. 

Herman, Knapsack’s main character, feels generally isolated. He doesn’t have any friends, and feels terrified whenever the potential to make some arises. He avoids talking to others, fearing ridicule and embarrassment. He believes wholeheartedly that the world is out to get him, stemming from deep-set childhood angst. All this changes when his one colleague, Helena, asks him out for a drink. 

A series of delightfully absurd circumstances later, Herman finds himself in the midst of some strange metamorphosis. He discovers that he needs to literally and figuratively come out of his shell if he is ever to find happiness. As he emerges, he discovers that the world is not, in fact, out to get him and that his coworkers are, in fact, nice people who would like to be his friend, if given the chance. 

Knapsack is a short and sweet piece that leaves audiences with a sense of hope, something everyone could do with a little more of in this arguably difficult world we inhabit.