Review by Sam Waite
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Fade in on a girl with a hunger for fame, and a face and a name remembered in intense detail to this day, decades after she was found dead in her Brentwood, Los Angeles home. America’s smart dumb blonde was a phenomenon in human form, attracting adoration from millions with a carefully constructed persona, valued to this very day more for her beauty than her abilities as an actress, but known to be an intelligent, perhaps dangerously self-aware woman. When Marilyn Monroe passed away, this was eventually deemed a probable suicide, but theories around foul play and accidental overdose have persisted ever since, many of which form the basis of The Marilyn Conspiracy, a historical thriller now playing at London’s Park Theatre.
We meet Marilyn on the night of her death, trying in vain to make plans and insisting, clearly falsely, that she’s fine when asked by her housekeeper, Eunice Murray. Ms Monroe, clad in her negligée and bathrobe, answers the door offstage to an unknown visitor, before the first of many cuts to black, and re-enters in a form-fitting white dress along with several of her nearest and dearest. Days before her tragic end, her years of 20th century fox-trotting seem to have finally paid off, with Daryl Zanuck signing a $1million deal for her next two pictures – for context, that’s closer to $10.5million in 2024 – despite her protestations that Liz Taylor got as much for one film. Still, the champagne flows until an argument between Marilyn and Peter, brother-in-law of flames Jack and Bobby Kennedy, brings things to a close – Bobby wants to know what Marilyn has written in her diary, and she is unwilling to let anyone see this last place her thoughts can be private.
Of course, much of the plot takes place on the night she died – the group debate what they believe to have happened, and Peter refuses to allow the police to be called until a story guarded them, and the Kennedys, from suspicion can be devised. Co-written by Vicki McKellar and director Guy Masterson, The Marilyn Conspiracy presents an interesting blend of documented fact and speculative fiction, with any new revelations created for the play having roots or explanations in the reality documented. Their characterisation of Marilyn feels authentic and true not to the movie star, but to the troubled individual discussed in more intimate accounts – positioned as a dumb blonde by Fox’s directors and screenwriters, those who knew her remembered a sharp, intelligent young woman. A moment of wit comes in a conversation between Monroe and her dear friend (and press agent) Pat Newcombe, where she bemoans the casting-couch culture that plagues the industry – “Oh! Maybe for a Shakespeare! Alas, poor Zauck, I knew him, fellatio.” Their duo’s writing is strong throughout, but at times its hard not to wonder if the whole thing might be better disconnected from Marilyn, as it often feels that the flashbacks with her are a compelling biography of their own, while the otherwise engaging thriller of the present-day (well, August 1962) scenes can feel disconnected from their supposed subject.
The cast are as adept as the writing, bringing a lived-in quality to the roles that allows them to skip over expositional introductions, allowing the playwrights to smartly drip-feed those of us unfamiliar with the group the information we need to understand their dynamics. Natasha Colenso, her face impassive but the cogs clearly turning in her head, plays the role of Patricia Kennedy-Lawford, stepping in on the productions original press night script-in-hand when illness threatened a cancellation. Only a handful of performances later, it’s difficult to believe that Colenso was on-book just this week, her command of the role is so strong and her stumbles so minimal – I personally caught just one fumble, but the quickfire, complex dialogue ensured that she certainly wasn’t alone in that regard. As her husband, actor and Kennedy-sycophant Peter Lawford, Declan Bennett delivers a solid combination of cool control and easily-set-off rage, a man determined to believe he’s in charge while pandering to whoever has the most power at any given moment.
Indeed, the whole cast carry themselves well. Particular kudos must be given to Sally Mortemore as Eunice Murray, giving the character a motherly quality and a heartbreaking frailty after her employer’s demise, and to Susie Amy, who is witty and dazzling as friend and confidante Pat Newcomb, and vividly enraged when appearances become more important than doing right by the woman she’d built such a bond with. But as in reality, it’s Marilyn herself who routinely pulled focus, who had a quality that was so captivating yet so hard to explain. Genevieve Gaunt isn’t doing Marilyn Monroe, and her voice and mannerisms share quirks rather than truly resembling the icon, but when on stage she truly is living as her. The Shakespeare line, part of a delightful scene between Monroe and Newcomb where the former spills on her sapphic trysts with Crawford (that actually happened) and her first “big O” courtesy of Dietrich (that not so much, though there are theories), gives Gaunt ample opportunities to display her skills in drawing in an audience and immediate having them onside. Running the gamut of emotions, her performance is nothing short of exemplary, including a poignant moment of song in the second act, where her vocal impression proves to be chillingly lifelike when singing.
The scenes directly centred on Ms Monroe are also the best justification for Sarah June Mills’ continually-moving set. With the space arranged in the round, the living rom where every scene takes place constantly rotates, as if to remind us that this was a woman watched at all times, and from all sides. Indeed, when the script makes repeated references to her home being bugged, it’s hard not to draw a connection to how clearly we’ve been able to see every inch of this room and its inhabitants. Mills’ costumes also help to ground us in the period, with Monroe’s form-fitting dresses thoroughly modest by today’s standards but their sensuality clear for the time, while the living room is littered with evidence of the period and of the woman – plush couch, mid-game chess set, rotary phone, and a half-used bottled of Chanel #5, which she once claimed was all she wore to bed.
Masterson keeps everyone in clear view – many of them, after all, are suspects in this fictionalised version of events where murder is heavily hinted to have taken place. Every performance has been guided to a high level of visible discomfort, them all on edge while debating the night’s events, and their flightiness and preparedness to storm off in dismay clear. From the moment the first of several real-life audio clips plays – the now-haunting introduction of the “late”, meaning tardy at the time, Marilyn Monroe, and a brief snipper of her infamous birthday song – Masterson imbeds us in the mystery of Monroe, and his cast keep us thoroughly engrossed in that world.
While it can sometimes seem like two one-act plays melded into one – a glittering bio-play and a terse political thriller – both are such strong pieces of work that seeing them both is more than welcome, and they do blend together very nicely. Leaning into truths about Marilyn – her diarist tendencies, including her little-known memoir, her propensity for mood swings and her fragile sense of self – and into the countless theories formed after her death – the Kennedys plotting a murder, the CIA and mafia keeping tabs on her – McKellar and Masterson have shaped something truly enticing, and like her character, Genevieve Gaunt’s performance ensures that all eyes and hearts are firmly on her.
The Marilyn Conspiracy plays at the Park Theatre until July 27th
For tickets and information visit https://parktheatre.co.uk/event/the-marilyn-conspiracy/
Photos by Brigitta Scholz Mastroianni
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