Vault Festival 1 – 5 February. Reviewed by Claire Roderick
Kane Power’s mother Kim is bipolar. We all have an idea of what bipolar is, but do we ever think about the impact on the sufferers’ family and relationships? In Mental, Power explores his mother’s mental health “with music, stories, and medical notes.” This may sound pretentious – Power himself admits this in his introduction – but in practice, these aspects are weaved together skilfully and sensitively to create a powerful and beautiful show.
Power does incredibly clever things on synthesizer thingies with lots of buttons and pedals (not a clue what was going on there, but I loved it!) to produce hypnotic and haunting music to accompany monologues, and adds simple repetitive lyrics that punch you in the gut. Interspersed with his own personal stories are recordings voices reading definitions of mental health terms, and the reports of Kim’s mental health reviews. Hearing her actions and delusions described calmly and coldly as Power sorts through piles of medical reports is chilling.
Power and his mother describe her mental health in more human and accessible terms – through musical and travelling analogies that allow you a peak at her disorientation. Tales of her manic episodes when he was a child, and his guilt about how he copes with her episodes now are interspersed with voicemail messages left by her. Singing and full of love in some, and foul-mouthed hatred in others. Power’s face as he shrugs at the audience after one tirade just makes you want to jump up and give him a hug.
Still in development, the show is entertaining and emotional throughout. There are a few slow sections that I was unsure of at first, but, on reflection, I think that they fitted in well with the tone of the show, feeling like natural lulls in the conversation where everyone is taking a breath. Some of the standout moments are Power’s “I’m Fine” song – about the impact his mum’s behaviour has on his life, a fabulous poem about medication and side effects, followed by a devastating visual demonstration of the damage done to Kim’s relationships.
This isn’t a pity-fest though. Rather it is a celebration of the human spirit – showing Kim’s strength, bravery and resilience as well as her frustration and loneliness. When Power puts on his mother’s shawl and speaks as her, describing her life and symptoms baldly but poetically “I can enter your world, but you can’t enter mine” he almost disappears and you see Kim standing there – a proud woman who is much more than her illness, and wants and deserves our understanding.