Filed under: Arts, theatre | Tags: Edinburgh, lyceum, Lyceum Edinburgh, marilyn, marilyn monroe, The Royal Lyceum, theatre
Fame will go by and, so long, I’ve had you, fame. If it goes by, I’ve always known it was fickle. So at least it’s something I experience, but that’s not where I live.
I don’t know who invented high heels, but all women owe him a lot.
I have feelings too. I am still human. All I want is to be loved, for myself and for my talent.
Marilyn Monroe, is perhaps the most famous woman in the world, ever!
OK, she may have been beaten to it by Mary, the mother of Christ, just as her son pipped John Lennon to the male crown.
Fame haunted Monroe all through her life and her complex personality, as demonstrated by the quotes above, confused not just the public and her biographers, but the lady herself. Just how dumb was she? It was hard totell at times. And the drugs didn’t help.
Her background as an abandoned orphan was a great driver but also a disturbing nightmare that she used rink and drugs to escape.
This lack of grounding no doubt contributed to her demons and dreadful lack of self worth.
So, put her in a hotel wing with Europe’s dazzling blonde intellectual arthouse love, Simone Signoret; the brainy blonde, on a trip to the US in March 1960 where she was about to win best actress Oscar for her role in Room at The Top, (the successful blonde) and what could possibly happen?
That’s the premise of this very interesting triple header directed by Philip Howard as a co production with the Citizens Theatre in Glasgow.
But Signoret wasn’t there just to pick up her Oscar. She was accompanying her husband (the lucky blonde), Yves Montand (unseen) who was performing as male leade alongside Marilyn on the set of Let’s Make Love. (Not a career high, despite Cukor’s direction).
Meanwhile Monroe’s third Husband, Arthur Millar, types furiously away off stage as their marraige disintegrates (they divorced 10 months later).
Of course, Monroe gets the hots for Montand, which hardly helps matters as Signoret is deeply in love with Montand and remained married to him until her death in 1985.
Circling the cage is Monroe’s one real friend (it would seem, certainly in this context) her hairdresser and colourist Patti (played by Paulie Knowles). She acts as a compere of sorts in a similar way that Alfieri did in Millar’s View from the Bridge earlier this season.
The show is a mix of mirth (“The Communists ; they’re the poor people aren’t they” quips Monroe) and misery as Monroe’s grip on reality gradually unravels, thanks mainly to her terrible insomnia fuelled by endless bubbly and a cocktail of prescription drugs.
It’s sad to see, but subtly realised.
And realisation is the real strength of this show which is built around a startling performance by Frances Thorburn in the title role and ably abetted by French actress Dominique Hollier.
A knowledge of the period is useful for one’s enjoyment as the McCarthy Witch Trials provide subtle, but important, background noise to the events on stage.
The wardrobe of authentic period couture that Marilyn parades through several costume changes is a particular delight too.
Four stars. Boo boo bee doo.
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