It was shortly after the end of her first song, the narrative barely in motion, when Maimuna Memon’s foot tangled in a guitar strap, causing it to clatter noisily to the floor. ‘Well, it is only press night – and look at that, [strums guitar] it’s still in tune’. The audience erupted with laughter, which turned to applause, which turned to cheering, writes Caitlin Odell…
Whilst this was no doubt an unintentional breaking of the fourth wall, the ripple effect was palpable.
Any trace of tension or awkwardness that one might expect from a snugly seated British audience, sitting in-the-round, was dissolved. A rapport had been built, and we knew we were in safe hands.
Perhaps due, in part, to the play’s semi-autobiographical nature, this also provided a rather seamless introduction to Ria, Manic Street Creature’s witty, charming, self-deprecating protagonist.
Cloaked as the tale of a determined young artist’s attempt to penetrate London’s unforgiving gigging scene, Manic Street Creature gradually reveals itself as something else entirely.
Ten powerful tunes, performed with Rachel Barnes and Harley Johnson, create the skeleton for Ria’s story: an exploration of poorly diagnosed mental health issues and unresolved childhood trauma’s insidious effect on its victims and their relationships.
Dan and Ria’s meet-cute encounter sets the audience up to expect a predictable story arc.
Handsome, emotionally unavailable artist lures naïve female into a pseudo-relationship, before retreating when presented with the prospect of meaningful commitment. But after quite an abrupt narrative diversion, it becomes apparent that Dan is not necessarily the stereotypical, self-indulgent tortured soul we first thought.
As details of Dan’s struggles transpire, Ria’s role morphs from that of the admiring girlfriend, into an entire support system. The strain of this transition is communicated candidly throughout her songs, which allow the audience to more deeply access her sadness, resentment and distress.
Starting as spectators, our experience grows increasingly visceral as Ria becomes consumed by her need to act as Dan’s saviour.
I felt slightly disillusioned at the first signs of what could have been a rather lazy ‘absent father’ trope. The recurring device of Ria’s dad’s voicemail message was about as much substance as this element of the plot was afforded.
However, as the narrative developed it became clear that the details of this father-daughter relationship were not the intended focus. Instead, it was one strand in the messy web of Ria’s co-dependent relationship with Dan.
This was great food for thought on the murky conundrum of what constitutes a healthy romantic relationship.
At what point does it cross the threshold into unhealthy territory?
What boundaries need to be put in place to protect both parties from each other’s baggage?
Exploring the nuances within themes of love, depression, childhood trauma and suicide, Memon offers timely commentary on a number of prevalent issues, particularly the male mental health crisis.
Her handling of these issues is tactful without feeling cursory. But what really gives this play its authenticity is the subtle injection of humour throughout, creating a cocktail of pessimism, hilarity and despair that only a true lived experience could give you the recipe for.
Southwark Playhouse Borough, 77-85 Newington Causeway, London, SE1 6BD until 11 November 2023.
Details and Booking: https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/manic-street-creature/
