“The story is set in the golden age of Hollywood … Unfortunately, the set design tells another story”
We already know so much about Marilyn Monroe (born Norma Jeane Mortenson) – the multiple books, films, documentaries, interviews with people who knew her, interviews with people who saw her from afar once – that it’s hard to imagine how a new play could bring to light anything unknown. So it’s quite a relief to discover that ‘Goodbye Norma Jeane’ isn’t really about her at all.
Liam Burke’s script tells the tale of unsung hero Jack Cole (Tim English), Hollywood choreographer and, apparently, the real talent behind the stars. The story is set in the golden age of Hollywood – satin gowns dripping with diamonds and fur, debauched pool parties, decadence and glamour for days. Unfortunately, the set design (Stewart J Charlesworth) tells another story – a lot of grey furniture, and a lot of empty bottles. Presumably the latter are supposed to insinuate that a good time has been had, but the effect is quite the opposite.
For a man who claims to have given dozens of stars their sexiest and most iconic moves, English portrays a very understated character. There is a lot of bitterness in the script – “I made Gwen like I made the rest of them”- but English misses it completely, favouring head-shaking disappointment and unconvincing humility, perhaps in an attempt to make Cole more likeable. We’re also left straining to hear his very patchy American accent at times as he struggles to make himself heard.
Rachel Stanley, playing all of Cole’s ‘muses’, is an entirely different animal. She’s a triple threat – singing, dancing and acting – and whilst a lot of her performance is quite hammy – introducing every new character with a shimmy in a spot-lit doorway for example – her delivery is entertaining and, at times, quite funny.
Admittedly, I imagine it would be quite a challenge to anyone to bring the glamour and tragedy of Monroe-esque Hollywood to a small fringe theatre, but it’s hard to see where Robert McWhir’s direction even attempted it. Everyone loves a story of a forgotten hero, and Jack Cole’s contributions to cinema and dance certainly make him a contender for such a tale, but unfortunately ‘Goodbye Norma Jeane’ does little to reinstate his forgotten Hollywood legacy.
“Aitken and Beamish do their very best to bring the story to life
In 2019, over a century after the Great War ended, is there anything left to say about it, you might ask. And I would reply, a fair bit actually – the Irish involvement is still pretty under-told, as is the Indian, African, and Australian. How about the Armenian genocide snuck right in the middle of it all? Don’t hear much about that. And, you know what, now that I think about it, I don’t know much about the Canadian troops either. And unfortunately, after two hours of John Gray’s ‘Billy Bishop Goes to War’ I still don’t. In fact, the title could easily double as synopsis: Canadian Billy Bishop, a fairly average young man, goes to fight for his King, his motherland, his “home away from home”. And there he learns that war is bad, that taking part in a war can sometimes feel good, and that you never forget how good and bad it all was.
But we know that’s how it’s going to go from the very start, as old-man Billy Bishop (Oliver Beamish) enters with a lurching gait in to his bunker-style man-cave, half-bottles of whiskey, mounted antlers and various WWI paraphernalia all scattered about. He is soon followed by his younger, uniformed self (Charles Aitken) to tell the tale. The whole play sits in that first tableau, and if you’re waiting for a twist in the plot, it’s not coming.
Predictability aside, Beamish and Aitken both make a good go of it. Beamish’s Canadian accent is a little shaky at times, but he more than makes up for it with his other Blackadder-esque British military characters. Aitken’s accent is more consistent but sometimes takes precedent over his delivery. Similarly, he shines in the more comical role of elderly socialite Lady St Helier. Neither man is afraid to take up space, or to throw their physicality behind a variety of parts, each playing at least five or six different characters.
The whole play takes place in Bishop’s hidey-hole, giving a sense of playing even as he sits in a cockpit, shooting at German planes and recounting pilots plummeting to their deaths. In this way, the set (Daisy Blower) supports the music (John Gray) in swiftly backing away from any emotional weightiness – any time Bishop experiences loss or trauma, there’s a song to make it nice and catchy. Wake to find two sleeping corpses in your trench? Let’s sing about it! Incidentally, both actors sing pleasantly enough, and Beamish accompanies nicely on piano.
Director Jimmy Walters has done well with the tools he was given. It’s not ground-breaking, but I don’t see how you could make it so. There are a couple of laughs, a couple of nice songs, and Aitken and Beamish do their very best to bring the story to life. Unfortunately, a century after Billy Bishop went to war, we require more than an old boys’ club patting each other on the back, saying, with only a smidgeon of solemnity, ‘It really was a great war.’
