Review: MELT : THE PLAY returns triumphantly to The Marilyn Theatre

Following a successful world premiere earlier this year, the theatre-hockey romance play Melt stages its encore at the Marilyn Monroe Theatre at the Lee Strasberg Institute. The playwriting debut of author Shakeil ‘Shak’ Kanish, Melt agonizes over missed opportunities and the question “What if?”

A new school play, penned by college theatre instructor Finch (Nicholas Scott), begins its auditions at the start of the show. Eli (Shak Kanish), a junior theatre major aspiring for his first lead role, eagerly anticipates this process, until Ryan (Jaden Harris Shaw) enters the picture. A hockey player – the hockey player, the one on all the school posters, the one whose dad bought the theatre’s lighting equipment – Ryan opposes everything Eli holds sacred. Rich and popular athletes don’t belong in the theatre. Eli and Finch know this. The palpable contempt they hold for athletes melts away as Ryan shows up again to prove, to both them and himself, that he holds the discipline and integrity that hockey has taught him. 

The play presents a remarkably strong distaste for athletes from the perspective of artists. Ryan shows himself as the exception; the rule very clearly depicts athletes as brutish. Melt tries to find nuance within this area, though it falls short – in no small part due to the tiny cast of characters. The play takes place almost solely inside the theatre, and Eli, Finch, and Ryan make up the entire dramatis personae. We hear sound effects of angry hockey players outside the theatre, taunting their captain who has “gone soft” (to phrase it nicely). Ryan discusses the bullying he faces from his teammates. There is no hint of support from any athlete. While teams, fraternities, and other such collegiate cohorts may indeed be so one-sided, this largely feels stereotypical. Storytelling requires broad brush strokes to paint populations, as only so much information can be squeezed into two hours. Only the most relevant can remain. Indeed, Melt is less a play about relationships among hockey teammates and more one about the artist-athlete divide (and the romance that blooms therein). Yet the brush strokes feel a little too heavy handed. Eli and Finch sharing that contempt for athletes – which largely seems apt, considering the rest of Ryan’s team’s behavior – also lacks nuance, though the artistic characters’ perceptions of athletes does get challenged and develops to some extent. But even in the final scene, Ryan is described by both to be “annoyingly perceptive” “for a hockey player.”

But the core of the show has nothing to do with athletes. The play is a romance. Actually, it’s a romance within a romance: Finch’s play, in which Eli and Ryan star, rewrites his own high school experience of a missed connection. As Eli explains to Ryan, his play is about “two friends; things get complicated.” As Eli and Ryan become two friends, things get complicated for them as well. Suddenly, the lines feel too real.

The most interesting part of the play is Ryan’s conflict with his feelings. Ryan never identifies his sexuality in words – no mention whatsoever of any past experiences with men or women. He shows aversion early on to the homosexual relationship depicted in Finch’s play, but he concludes with no intervention from the other characters that he is in the wrong for this. Melt becomes a story of questioning more than just missed opportunities. It beautifully depicts a young man mustering up the courage to follow his feelings into the abyss ahead. Ryan may indeed be queer. But he’s certainly much closer to knowing that answer by the end of the show. Melt’s strength lies in the bravery its characters find to not let chances slip by.

Ryan is not the only character taking chances. Indeed, Ryan is arguably not even the protagonist of this story; Eli seems to be. Eli is gay, and he has lived experiences that cause the thought of pursuing Ryan to give him pause. Finch gently mentors Eli and guides him to take a chance with Ryan, calling on his own regret. 

Where Melt lacks nuance in athlete portrayals, it makes up for it in queer representation. Eli and Ryan have vastly different journeys to the same destination. Neither feels stereotypical or broadly painted. Finch, too, makes for an interesting queer character. Melt shines where it needs to: depth and distinction in its on-stage characters.

There is a song at the end of Finch’s play, coinciding with the end of our play. Kanish sings lovely. But the lyrics lack any sort of lyricism – they do not flow smoothly, nor do they draw on any noticeable sonic wordplay. Too much like regular dialogue, the arrhythmic lyrics weaken the tune. The song is the only part of the play-within-a-play that we see outside of tiny rehearsal snippets. The buildup to the production disappoints with this song. Of course, at no point in the play does anyone say Finch is a good writer. Finch putting on his own disappointing play actually does put an interesting spin on his goal to change his own story. Earlier in the show, he realizes he pushes his cast too hard to meet his vision. Perhaps his eagerness to put on his personal fanfiction continues to override his judgment. 

As for the performances: they were stellar. No one disappointed for a moment, but Nicholas Scott and, especially, Jared Harris Shaw particularly shone. They perfectly embodied their characters. These three actors (Shakeil Kanish, the playwright, being the third) all gave completely believable performances. 

Melt is an eager, interesting, imperfect exploration of love. There is room for it to grow, and hopefully room for it to go.

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