The Icons Season at St James Theatre, London

My deep love of the theatre comes from a very visceral place. It’s the place that gave birth to my first ever career ambition – to be an actor. Actually, I wanted to be a star, but a star in the vein of those that don’t exist anymore. I wanted to be an old school Hollywood movie star, or – failing that – someone in Dynasty. Because that wasn’t too likely to happen, I turned my attention towards the vaguely possible: the stage. Beyond the glitter in my eyes I also held a very naïve, aw-bless earnestness for The Craft of Acting. I devoured works on Brecht and Stanislavski, loved that my favourite movie star (MM) studied The Method and I would repeat passages of Tennessee Williams to myself, convinced I was extraordinarily good.

I still perform very occasionally (AKA “showing off”) but in those early days the nearest I came to my ambitions of being a board-treader was appearing in a musical about a lesbian American football team. I then went on to career ambition #2: filmmaker. I combined my love of schlock and movie stars by making a film about Judy Garland and Marilyn Monroe as vampires. Reimagining the lives of real people (as vampires or not) is another fascination.

So the Icons Season at the St James Studio theatre was right up my sequined alley. But the attraction didn’t stop there: the season promised to examine “the person behind the icon”. Exactly the kind of warts and all that I’m particularly partial to. Covering movie stars Joan Crawford and Bette Davis, Marilyn Monroe, Richard Burton, and Marlene Dietrich as well as poet Dylan Thomas, the multi-media complex hosted appropriate screenings alongside the plays. You got the gloss on the screen and then a portrayal of the grit on the stage.

I was as intrigued about the theatre itself – the first newly built theatre complex to open in London’s West End for 30 years – as much as I was about the season. There are good elements: a modern, glass-walled foyer and bar/brasserie area that you can see glowing invitingly as you approach; walls covered in Frank Worth’s iconic photos of the movie stars he befriended and caught in their glamorous splendour (the theatre is selling these stunning images); a nice, relaxed atmosphere with friendly, attentive staff.

But there’s a few things just a little off. The décor isn’t quite right (it wants to be classy but comes off a little cheap), the seating is mismatched in a slightly odd, rather than a hip way, and the food is hit and miss. We ordered from the brasserie menu (there’s a restaurant upstairs). Amused that you can get (iconic) vol-au-vents we ordered those along with mini fish and chips, padron peppers with parmesan, and squid with feta, chorizo and Spanish beans. It was all ok, but lacked seasoning. The stars of the table were a killer tartar sauce and the squid.

I wish I could say that the vol-au-vents took me back to a 70s buffet but they were pretty bland. We seasoned in the 70s

I wish I could say that the vol-au-vents took me back to a 70s buffet but they were pretty bland. We seasoned in the 70s. A pudding of peanut butter cheesecake was pleasantly salty sweet and their “cocktail of the week” – a Manhattan – was good. Speaking of ‘Icons’, we were coincidentally seated next to one: Miss Esther Rantzen in a rather fabulous, fitted, red velvet, embroidered jacket that reminded me of a Nudie suit.

I was really looking forward to checking out the studio. For all of the old school glamour of a proscenium arch, I much prefer a modern theatre space. The studio is sometimes used for cabaret shows, which explains the cabaret seating of small round tables and chairs. But they’d weirdly added extra chairs in between so they were at once theatre rows and the cabaret tables, making it all pretty squished and a tad uncomfortable. There were a few plush banquette-style seats at the back for the lucky few who got there early.

Dietrich was part of the hoard of powerful, extraordinary stars who just shouldn’t have had children

But the stage space was well placed and the set appropriately designed to evoke a fading movie star’s rancid bedroom. The play we’d come to see was the world premiere of Miss Dietrich Regrets written by Gail Louw, directed by Tony Milner and starring Elizabeth Counsell as Dietrich and Moira Brooker as her daughter, Maria Riva. Performances from both women were powerful, eliciting much sympathy for Maria and frustration with, and pity for, Marlene. It takes place during the final decade of Dietrich’s life when she was bed-ridden in her Paris apartment, with Maria trying to convince her stubborn mother to move into a care facility. Dietrich’s fear of being exposed and gawped at all day was valid but her manipulations and reminiscing diversions evoke the futile need to claw on to the idea of a better, grander past. It’s what we imagine movie stars to do – like Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard. But it’s also what fans can do; gripping on to a carefully constructed, glossy, happy idea of their idols. It’s uncomfortable and confronting seeing beneath that, but fascinating and provocative too.

The feel of the piece is intense and claustrophobic – presumably very intentional – and it adds to the power of the play. All good theatre should stay with you long after you’ve left, and I’ve certainly carried those feelings it evoked and the questions it raised. There is absolutely no glam or glitz here: this is an exposé of the aging icon, struck down by that disease of the superstar – total self-centredness. Dietrich was part of the hoard of powerful, extraordinary stars who just shouldn’t have had children (including Crawford, Davis, Garland and Brando); for those children become inevitably damaged goods, often taking care of their famous parents and suffering more as a result. Maria Riva has told her story before, on the page and also in documentaries where she tellingly refers to her mother as “Dietrich”. An all so very terribly real human being in her life, Maria profoundly understood that Marlene herself had cultivated the iconology of Dietrich and even though Riva saw the pitiful horror beneath that pinned back behind the ears with tape for a DIY facelift mask, she knew that the upkeep of that legend was vital to her mother until the very end. The notes for the play suggest that Marlene is seen to be “battling to retain her independence” – but she is very much dependent on Maria, not just physically but, most very definitely, emotionally. C

St James Theatre, 12 Palace Street, London SW1
020-844 264 2140; stjamestheatre.co.uk

Corinna Tomrley is a doctor of pop culture and an artist who lives in London. Her latest work is the multi-media project For The Love of Judy. She is 87% glitter