BEAUTIFUL LITTLE FOOL

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★

“Lauren Ward stands out as Scottie with an emotional and sensitive portrayal”

Much has been written about F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald – the iconic, glamorous and tragic ‘Golden Couple’ of the Jazz Age. Even without Fitzgerald’s novels, they need no introduction. The names Scott and Zelda have always remained the central figures of their era, epitomising its excesses. The focus is nearly always drawn to Scott’s heavy drinking and early death, and Zelda’s mental disorders and institutionalisation. Their story has become the template of the self-destructive side effects of creativity and fame, and their tragic marriage and career an irresistible subject for biographers. But their only daughter, born in 1926 at the height of her father’s early success, is probably the most reliable witness. And indeed, Frances Scott “Scottie” Fitzgerald was a vehement critic of biographers’ depictions which were invariably one dimensional.

It would be interesting to know what she would make of “Beautiful Little Fool”, the new musical by Mona Mansour (book) and Hannah Corneau (music and lyrics), which places Scottie centre stage, reflecting on her parents’ life from their first meeting up to their separate, sorrowful deaths. Scottie (Lauren Ward) is celebrating her forty-eighth birthday. She was always too young to sort out her parents’ lives, so now she is sorting out their archives. Mansour and Corneau have given her an easy task: what follows is a pretty simple potted history of the couple. Episodic and superficial. Interestingly, using a theatrical device that is sadly underexplored, Scottie periodically slips away from her narrative standpoint in the 1960’s to join them in the twenties and thirties and interact as an adult. Luckily, we are given the dates in the dialogue, as there is little else to evoke the time and setting. Corneau’s score reflects neither era, and pays little respect to the themes of Mansour’s script. ‘Nobody Parties Like Us’ opens the show, with the protagonists at mic stands wrestling with a pub-rock beat. By song number three, they seem to be stepping into a seventies power ballad – more Barry Manilow than Cab Calloway.

The dynamic lacks excitement and the band’s energy mirrors the unchanging pulse and pattern of the rhythms. Lyrically repetitive, they jar with the personalities singing them. But there is the crux – the characters themselves are under formed, merely scratching the surface of these multi-layered literary figures. Admittedly, the nature of musical theatre requires us to suspend our disbelief, but this is a real story about real people, and the belief comes crashing to the floor when a tortured genius of the jazz age reaches for the high belt.

The cast manage to rise above the material. Lauren Ward stands out as Scottie with an emotional and sensitive portrayal of a woman trying to make sense of her upbringing. The real-life Scottie had fewer complaints (“I didn’t consider it a difficult childhood at all. In fact, it was a wonderful childhood” she once remarked). David Hunter as F. Scott and Amy Parker as Zelda are in fine voice – particularly Parker who steps in as Zelda; usually played by composer and lyricist Corneau herself. There are moments when tensions run high and we get a very brief glimpse of the tempestuous relationship, but for the most part the emotional connection between F. Scott and Zelda is buried at the bottom of a whisky glass, topped with a dash of caricature and a twist of simplicity. We barely get a taste, and consequently learn little new.

Shankho Chaudhuri’s impressive, two-tiered set preserves the serious antiquity while still managing to recreate the party atmosphere when needed. But this concept doesn’t really transfer to the narrative. When we approach the twilight years, F. Scott has changed little. Hollywood broke him, but here we merely sense he is having a bad day at the office. The epilogue is drawn out, the emotional impact is cast out, and the sorrow and anguish is replaced by a sugary finale.

When Frances Scott “Scottie” Fitzgerald was born, Zelda emerged from the anaesthetic in a haze. “I’m drunk” she rambled, “Isn’t she smart… she has the hiccups. I hope it’s beautiful and a fool – a beautiful little fool”. These words reappeared later in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s ‘The Great Gatsby’ spoken by Daisy Buchanan. It’s the perfect title for a retrospective play that mixes biography with drama, told through the eyes of the daughter. “Beautiful Little Fool”, however, squanders the opportunity with a show that barely removes the blinkers and further veils its potential for insight with a musical that skims the surface without revealing what lies beneath.