Maimuna Memon’s Manic Street Creature did the rounds at the Edinburgh Fringe a few years back, where – I’m ashamed to say – I studiously avoided it because I thought it had a silly name.
I still think it has a silly name, but Memon has since shown herself to be a truly formidable talent. Her most obvious achievement is an extremely well deserved Best Supporting Actress in a Musical win at last year’s Oliviers (for her turn in the Donmar’s Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812). But she’s a gifted musician too, having done the score for the National Theatre’s luxuriant stage version of The Grapes of Wrath, and due to do the honours for the Open Air Theatre’s imminent A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
And now Manic Street Creature is back in a slightly expanded form. A gig-theatre show that mixes Memon’s original songs with her spoken-word storytelling, she’s joined on stage by a three-strong backing band (cello, drums, guitar), the members of whom speak the odd line but largely leave the acting to her.
The story concerns a young musician named Ria, who moves to London and falls for Daniel, a sensitive soul who struggles with his mental health – he is the titular Manic Street Creature (by which I mean there’s a song called that, he’s not a monster or anything).
At heart the show is a relatively straightforward affair: Daniel is depressed; he takes antidepressants but they totally change his character; Ria struggles, caught between her love for him as a person, her concern for his well-being, and duty to her own care, which she neglects in the middle of all this.
The engine of the show is its form, being built around a cycle of Memon’s folky, jazzy songs, with her earnest, ethereal singing voice and emotive lyrics wilfully juxtaposed with her blunt, sweary Lancastrian vowels when speaking.
Ultimately it’s a show that ticks a few boxes very well, and Memon is a hugely endearing, charismatic presence. But I didn’t love the music: I don’t doubt Memon’s passion, but her mannered, tasteful, post-Nora Jones songs didn’t especially float my boat until the last couple of tracks where things were shaken up by electric guitars and a squeezebox, plus a bit of emotional viscera.
This is obviously an incredibly subjective take but I guess the problem with Kirsty Patrick War’s stripped-back gig-theatre show is that there’s not much else to focus on if you’re not feeling the songs.
It’s a fictional story, rooted in autobiography: Memon has said she did have a relationship with somebody who suffered from similar mental health problems to Daniel. In some ways the narrative doesn’t play out with the depth you might expect from a straight play: Daniel has troubles, goes on antidepressants which cause their own complications, the general conclusion is that this is a difficult situation all round. But actually the fact it’s quite unvarnished and unresolved gives it an air of authenticity that a show with a neater conclusion might lack.
Manic Street Creature is a calling card for Memon’s considerable array of talents. Maybe she’ll end up best known as a performer in other people’s musicals; maybe the next self-written written show will be the one that makes her a household name; whatever the case, it’s not hard to I see that’s she’s great and it’s hard to imagine any scenario where she doesn’t end up a star.
