Please note: This review – like the production itself – discusses the themes of mental health and eating disorders. Please take care when reading and click off this article if these subjects are triggering to you.
What exactly is a good mental health play? It’s a difficult question to answer. Stories which leans far too heavily on unwavering optimism – in which every individual suffering from poor mental health can and/or does recover – are uncomfortable and inauthentic, while shows which are candid in their portrayal of psychological conditions (say, last year’s A Little Life) are criticised as being gratuitous in their depictions.
Both can be considered harmful portrayals, if you ask the right audience member, though in Papatango winner Laura Waldren’s debut Some Demon, there’s too much of the latter – to the extent you’re not only left wondering whether the play has any broader point to make, and if it does, if it actually contributes anything to the discourse around mental health besides unhelpful nihilism and fatalism. I mean, heck, two characters draw inspiration from Nietzsche and his views on nihilism, for goodness’ sake.
The main character is, for the most part, Sam (Hannah Saxby), an 18-year-old admitted to an adult inpatient clinic for eating disorders who’s hoping to recover in time for enrolment at university. It’s just one of a number of plot points seeded early by Waldron to keep us interested over a two hour and 45 minute running time, which does drag on at times as we wait for things to come to a head.
Joining Sam in the unit is sarky Zoe (Sirine Saba), Zara (a character who is hyperbolic and dramatic in her many complaints about her life, well portrayed by Witney White), and a struggling patient named Mara (Leah Brotherhead). Mike and Leanne are the two staff members, doubling up as a good cop/bad cop duo respectively in terms of their approach to patient treatment, with Leanne getting so caught up in the bureaucracy that she often fails to notice when a patient has become emotional. This stance is much to the frustration of Zoe, who in addition to disliking Leanne’s management style has a difficult relationship with her sister, Gemma.
This exasperation from Zoe over authority can be easily compared to that of Emma in Duncan Macmillan’s baffling People, Places and Things, where one patient’s rejection of the system and treatment risks bringing down the entire operation. The cereal rota is too boring, the CD player keeps getting stuck, and in terms of set design, Anisha Fields’ meeting room with a treatment room upstairs is suitably unremarkable (save for the nice touch of green handprints on the walls), only adding to the kind of claustrophobia felt by Sam and Zoe, who end up forming a close bond over a shared disdain for the clinic.
It does feel short-lived, though, as not long after they bond over a contraband cigarette – Zoe effectively adopting a maternal approach to her relationship with the younger patient – does an emboldened Sam decide to discharge herself. A scene which injected some energy into a curious ennui, and established an impressive two-hander involving the duo, is all too brief, and so the longing to know if Sam does indeed go to university is placed on hold, replaced with the question of whether Zoe will ever feel comfortable enough to confront the trauma associated with her sister.
As a result, and to Waldren’s credit, we are treated to several powerfully written monologues, many of which are delivered in an astonishing performance by Saba. As director, George Turvey correctly identifies the right pace at which these moments of exposition should be shared, from the hilariously exaggerative recited at speed to catch audiences off-guard, to the more piercing revelations from characters pushed to breaking point, released as one giant, devastating blow. Similarly, Rajiv Pattani’s lighting design dims in more intimate moments, honing in on the delicacy contained in certain scenes. This isn’t adhered to in the sound design, though, as a decent soundtrack blasting out retro music catches us off-guard against softly spoken and at times inaudible dialogue.
The production definitely is dramatic and full of tension, but is a naturalistic story alone worth your time? It’s rather ironic that after Sam shares her take on Nietzsche with others, about a lack of direction or control, we don’t really see an endpoint or arc which this story will follow over its three acts (one interval, though, just to be clear). Indeed, the play itself entertains ideas that mental health professionals find reasons to “suck you in” to long-term residency and section patients (later retracted by Zoe, but not with a significant rebuttal).
If that isn’t troubling enough, Zoe chastises those who wash their hands of friends going through mental health crises despite all the awareness, and when Leanne leads a group exercise on “challenging thoughts”, Zoe blows the whole process of letting go of intrusive thoughts wide open by offering up ‘global warming’ as a challenging thought.
It gets a laugh from the audience, and as someone with OCD which was initially treated with ineffective cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), I couldn’t help but find it humorous how the scene exposes the ‘sticking plaster’ nature of the treatment. I have no doubt others will relate to this particular moment in the play, but have we really reached the point with mental health representation in theatre that stories can only highlight the failures within healthcare, and is this all it can offer?
Equally troubling is the fact that we never do find out whether Zoe ends up clearing the air with Gemma. While this would complement one observation in the script that NHS staff don’t know what happens after discharge, the fact this play doesn’t centre either Leanne or Mike as a protagonist means any possible emphasis is lost. Some may interpret the disappointment at this unresolved plot point as being intentional, mirroring the frustration felt by those in the system such as Sam, but the unfortunate reality is that it’s bleak and underwhelming. Even a closing comment of ‘keep trying’ comes across as an insincere, shoehorned attempt at a profound final note.
To go full circle, perhaps the best mental health plays present a specific condition candidly, without attempting to make a point about an issue so complex and nuanced, but Some Demon forfeits that opportunity by presenting a critical and worryingly defeatist look at the treatment of mental health conditions and eating disorders.
★★★
Some Demon is now playing at the Arcola Theatre until 6 July. No access performances are currently scheduled.
Images: Ellie Kurttz.
Disclaimer: I was invited to watch ‘Some Demon’ for free in exchange for a review of the performance as a member of the press. I did not receive payment for this article and all opinions stated above are honest and my own.
Liam O'Dell 