Review: MANIC STREET CREATURE, Kiln Theatre

There are very few voices in London’s musical theatre scene as unique as that of Maimuna Memon –  so it’s no wonder her musical theatre talent won her an Olivier last year. Known for her evocative, folk-infused sound, Manic Street Creature sees Memon take the reins as writer and composer as well as performer, bringing her distinctive voice to a personal story of second-hand trauma. First performed at the Fringe in 2022, it’s now back in a new production at the Kiln. 

The story begins simply – so simply in fact that it reads like a cliche. Northern girl Ria (Memon) moves to London to pursue big dreams of the music industry, and quickly falls in love with mysterious bartender Daniel. Where this show really comes into its own, however, is when it starts to collapse in on itself, unpicking the contradictions and nuances of loving someone going through a mental health crisis.

The first half of Manic Street Creature can feel slow, with musical numbers stretching out the narrative rather than moving it along. There’s some meandering, and a few songs that blur into one another. It’s all the more surprising, then, when we start to peel back the surface and get into the intricacies of Ria and Daniel’s relationship. Memon writes the guilt and grief of letting someone else’s suffering shape your life with fine-toothed perception, crafting moments that cut right through to the heart. 

The show is at its best when it's at its messiest, both narratively and sonically. The climax sees bolder choices in lighting and sound, expanding the scope and scale of the production. In fact, Jessica Hung Han Yung’s lighting design is a particular highlight throughout, seeping through the towering window that makes up the backdrop of the set. Yung allows the show to sit between the worlds of theatre and live music, incorporating the swells and pulses of concert design within a theatre building. 

Dramaturgially, it feels as though this new production of Manic Street Creature isn’t entirely sure what it wants to be and do. Its three person band are sometimes involved, sometimes not, with a few moments that use instruments as sound effects promising more. The narrative framing of the recording studio doesn’t feel fully realised, and it seems like a shame that the possibilities gig theatre opens up aren’t explored more. The pacing also feels weighted towards the earlier plot points, spending less time on the darker, more interesting moments. 

But while Manic Street Creature doesn’t always work as a piece of theatre, it absolutely does as a compelling, emotionally resonant showcase of Memon’s skill as both a performer and storyteller. The show entirely hinges on her ability to bring an audience under her spell, and tell this story as though for the first time – and the result is a real testament to her as an artist.

Manic Street Creature puts gig theatre back on the map, and proves that small-scale work that starts at Fringe can have a rich future life. And just as importantly, it vividly embodies a nuance rarely spoken about: that, as the show says, ‘someone else’s trauma can be traumatising.’ It cuts through in a way that may not bring tears in the moment, but weaves its way into your mind on the journey home. 

Manic Street Creature runs at the Kiln Theatre until 28 March.