LOVE GODDESS, THE RITA HAYWORTH MUSICAL at the Cockpit Theatre
★★
“Logan Medland’s score keeps the show afloat too, with a song list that could have been plucked straight from the era.”
Margarita Carmen Cansino, born in Brooklyn in 1918, would come to be worshipped as the sex symbol Rita Hayworth. The ‘femme fatale’ star of films such as “Gilda”, “Only Angels Have Wings” and “The Strawberry Blonde”, she was the top pin up girl for GIs during World War II, and was coined ‘The Love Goddess’ by the press. Achieving fame in the 1940s she went on to make over sixty films over the next four decades.
Very few people, however, recognised the trauma that lay beneath her glitzy persona. What happened to the child that was Margarita would scar Rita forever. Orson Wells, her second husband, was one of the few that got close enough to observe: “All her life was pain”. Hayworth’s story is rich pickings for a musical; as it unfolds around the extraordinary figures in her life. The husbands, the parents and the co-stars, the reporters who helped and hindered her, and the moguls who made her and broke her.
“Love Goddess – The Rita Hayworth Musical” is the creation of Almog Pail, who wrote the book (with Stephen Garvey) and plays Hayworth. Originally a one-woman cabaret show entitled “Me, Myself and Rita” it has, according to the pr copy, ‘evolved into a full-scale musical’. However, this production hasn’t scaled the fullness. The ambition is undoubtedly there, and we do get a very fine picture of the blueprint. The story is presented through the fragmented mind of Hayworth during the final chapters of her life, as she interacts with memories, ghosts, lovers and her younger self. On the page it’s a gorgeous concept, on the stage it somehow fails to ignite. Too many issues are underexplored. Hayworth’s Alzheimer’s disease, which contributed to her early death and hugely drew attention (not to mention funding and research) to the condition, gets little more than a token mention.
Although she has the required passion and ambition, Pail lacks the gravitas – and the voice – to depict Hayworth with the credibility needed. She is surrounded by a fine ensemble who between them cover the roster of every significant player in Hayworth’s life. An impressive troupe, the shining star of which is Imogen Kingsley-Smith as the young Rita, whose effervescent presence and talent lifts the show each time she acts, dances or sings her way across the stage.
Logan Medland’s score keeps the show afloat too, with a song list that could have been plucked straight from the era. Latin rhythms and tangos mingle with smoky, jazzy numbers and that ol razzle dazzle – ‘The Five Men I Married’ being a standout number, recalling Chicago’s ‘Cell Block Tango’. Again, though, the sound sometimes falls flat, and the richness of the orchestration and ensemble arrangement required is left to the imagination. This show is longing for someone to come along and splash some colour between the brushed outlines. We have a glimpse of what this could be. Most of us know something of Hayworth’s story. For those who don’t, the piece will shed enough light, and will do so with clever staging and imaginative use of chronology. It shouldn’t shy away from the fact that there isn’t necessarily a happy ending. It has enough, particularly in the score, to both celebrate and elevate the melancholy. But not quite enough yet to really move us.
“another thought-provoking production in the Voila! Europe Festival“
Performer Natasha Stanic Mann presents a devised solo piece called The Return as part of The Cockpit Theatre’s Voila Europe! 2022 Festival. With the assistance of a group of international artists, Stanic Mann has put together a short show, performed in English and Croatian, which explores the hidden consequences of war, and the migrations that are often the result of blood-soaked conflict.
Stanic Mann is an engaging artist. She welcomes us in her world with smiles and humour, music and dance. This lightness of touch is essential when one considers that the story she tells us is really one of tragedy heaped upon tragedy. The Return is the story of her family, who have been involved in not just one migration as the result of war, but many. It’s a common experience in what used to be known as Eastern Europe—and Natasha, as she introduces herself—gives us a quick lesson in the complicated geography of that region. It begins in Ukraine with her great grandparents, moves to Bosnia where her father was born, and then Croatia. Bosnia and Croatia used to be part of one country, and Natasha also educates us about the harrowing breakup of Yugoslavia, told through the experiences of one who lived it. At every step, Natasha deals with the difficulties of moving countries, languages, cultures—not helped by petty bureaucrats in each new situation. She has come onto the stage barefoot, she tells us, because bare feet are a metaphor for migrants. This is heavy material, but at any moment, Natasha engages our attention, and our sympathy, with a Czech folk song, Doris Day singing Che sera, sera, or a poem from her own Croatia. The Return will be an eye opener for anyone whose family has been rooted in the same spot for hundreds of years. The Return is also a reminder that war can come back at any moment to uproot the lives of a new generation.
This is rich, compelling material for a drama. If anything, fifty-five minutes is not really long enough to get to grips with it, in a way that is completely satisfying. But given that this is a solo performance, Stanic Mann makes a good beginning in the time allowed. Assisted by director Andres Velasquez, and artistic collaborators Filomena Campus, Emily Harwood, Steve North and Valentino Nioi, Stanic Mann engages directly with her audience. There is very little in the way of staging. Instead, she readily approaches audience members, asking questions, introducing songs and poems in a friendly, one to one way. She makes her points lightly. It is the lighting (Josephine Tremelling) and sound (Chris Prosho) that adds the darker, more tragic mood.
The Return is another thought-provoking production in the Voila! Europe Festival, and an opportunity to see some of Europe’s most intriguing emerging companies and their latest work.
If the work of Natasha Stanic Mann and her fellow artists, and other, equally experimental companies, appeals to you, keep an eye open for future festivals like this one at the Cockpit Theatre.
