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Maniac is one of Netflix’s most eagerly anticipated new series, finally reuniting Academy Award nominees and Superbad actors Emma Stone and Jonah Hill. Written and created by Patrick Somerville and directed by Cary Fukunaga (who has just been confirmed as the new James Bond director), Maniac is loosely based on the 2014 Norwegian television series of the same name. It’s set in a near-future New York City, where citizens subsidise their earnings by becoming a rent-a-friend, or by assuming the role of a husband of the recently widowed, and where housing rents are 87% of annual income (okay, perhaps not that far into the future).
Maniac tells the stories of Annie Landsburg (Stone) and Owen Milgrim (Hill), two strangers who are drawn together at the trial of a new pharmaceutical drug designed to eradicate all human pain and suffering by altering the processing of memories. Both Annie and Owen are experiencing separate stages of grief and mental health issues, and viewers are transported into the processes of these characters minds during their drug-fuelled hallucinations, or “reflections” as they are called in the show.
Stone and Hill both shine as they play against type. Stone reveals her versatility and depth as an actor as she revels in the role of Annie, a grubby, self-medicating addict, who is dealing with the tragic loss of her sister. Jonah Hill’s performance is subdued as Owen, the introverted, unstable son of a New York tycoon (Gabriel Byrne). His inability to determine what is real or not real is relayed by his perpetually solemn, dulled expression, which is perfectly balanced by Stone’s erratic and compulsive character.
It all sounds quite heavy, right? Whilst Maniac won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, there are some compelling examinations of depression, addiction and pseudo-psychology at play. It’s visually stunning: Owen’s apartment is a Kubrick-esq universe of IBM computers and neon filtered lighting, hinting at influences of Sam Lowry’s flat in Terry Gilliam’s masterpiece Brazil. But for all the aesthetic traction it gains, the plot at times feels spoon-fed and lacking the depth its original story deserves. Maniac has all the stylings of Black Mirror, but fails to land any solid punches. As soon as you get comfortable with a character, they are whisked away and replaced by an alternate parallel. In interviews, director Fukunaga has spoken openly about the role that Netflix’s algorhythms played in the creative decision making, opting for what they think audiences are likely to prefer rather than a riskier, off-beat, or more organic approach.
We have yet to see a series that delves this deep into the desperation of living with a mental illness in such a positive and cathartic way, whilst also resonating in the characters’ drastic attempts to self-heal. That yearning to get better, to be normal, whilst constantly facing self-destruction and disorientation is perhaps the most compelling aspect of Maniac. It deals with issues that are still so pervasive in our society in a way that is not so elusive and despondent. Maniac may get your head spinning and it can be a lot to process, but for those that are intrigued to roll the dice, it’s a trip worth taking.
