Productions set in recording studios do not come around too often, yet after last year’s exception Stereophonic, it is back into the booth though this time with a much more personal, intimate, production where aspiring musician Ria digs deep into her own life to find musical inspiration in this powerfully evocative piece of gig theatre, which blends genres and tackles complex conversations head-on.
Manic Street Creature, revived at the Kiln Theatre after a successful run in 2023 at the Southwark Playhouse, is back and bigger than ever. On a larger stage, writer and performer Maimuna Menon, who plays Ria, is sensational in crafting a character who is frantic with professional and personal worry. The semi-autobiographical piece focuses on Ria (an exceptional Menon) putting together an album in a recording studio, yet what starts as a quest for musical success becomes something much heavier and complicated, with Ria’s relationship with manic depressive Daniel dominating her personal and creative choices.
It is a terrific concept, and one superbly executed by Menon’s writing and the creative team. The script glides seamlessly from dialogue to song, each number revealing another part of Ria’s desperate relationship with Daniel, exploring his mental health struggles, violent outbursts and erratic behaviour, which all begin to erode Ria’s own self as she tries to care for him. Menon’s portrayal of Ria is layered and intricate, with the musical numbers not conventional of musical theatre, instead leaning on a much more intimate gig theatre style that evokes a genuine feeling of watching an actual album be recorded and developed. The writing and Menon’s delivery combine for a moving and enthralling outcome.
What makes this particular production stand out is the focus on the carers and those indirectly impacted by an individual’s mental health, rather than the sufferer themselves. This immediately feels a fresh take, and Menon’s writing is unflinching in exploring the pain and anguish felt by Daniel’s partner, while also maintaining a sense of sympathy and empathy for Daniel too. It is quite a difficult thing to accomplish, given that we do not see Daniel on stage, though the decision to include a voiceover using pre-recorded answer messages and telephone conversations is effective in providing just enough of Daniel’s viewpoint while maintaining Ria’s heartbroken perspective. It is easy to get lost in the lyricism of Ria’s music, reflecting on one’s own experiences of caring for ill loved ones and the toll it can take, but despite the very clear negative impact it has on Ria, Menon’s script is effective in its choice not to attribute blame to either party, instead wanting to provoke conversations about mental health care and the support network around sufferers.
It also refuses to neatly tidy the narrative up, too. Ria and Daniel’s relationship is somewhat resolved by the end, yet Ria’s complicated and broken relationship with her father is painful, while the implications of a childhood damaged by this are explored during fraught exchanges with her mother, again seen only through Ria’s perspective.
This is aided by the subtle set design (Libby Watson), which primarily places us in a recording studio, though it uses multi-level rostra for flashbacks and scenes in Ria’s family home to flow smoothly. As a result, the design keeps attention on Ria, supported by a three-piece band, as she moves from instrument to instrument (testmane to Menon’s exceptional musical skill), slowly pouring out her thoughts and heart.
‘I have this obsession with needing to fix things, ’ exclaims Ria towards the piece’s climax, and while some of the fractures in Ria’s life can’t be mended, her coping mechanism, her music, is a powerful restorative tool brought to the fore in this tremendous performance.
