Review of ‘The Code’: “Rainbow-coated storyline shows audiences the greyest side of Hollywood history”

Tracie Bennett and John Patridge star in this new heart-rending comedy, which explores the darkest face of Tinseltown through three major legends of its Golden Age. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if it’s either ready for its closeup or destined to close down.

It was in the late 60s that a young Andrew Lloyd Webber attended a disastrous concert starring film icon Judy Garland at the London Hippodrome, formerly known as The Talk of the Town. To say that viewers were displeased with her performance would be an act of mercy. They couldn’t be blamed for it either — she was one hour late, struggled with her vocals, and her inability to appease the exasperation resulted in the audience ending up throwing coins at her. She had become a broken toy of Hollywood. And she wouldn’t be, by far, the first or last one to make that list.

Writer Michael McKeever revives the true essence of Tinseltown through his movie-history play, The Code. A gripping drama unmasking the ugliest side of showbiz (and perhaps, its only real one), this fictional encounter among three legendary figures of the silver screen brings to the front the most devastating truth about the so-called factory of dreams — all that it manufactures is made from someone else’s crushed spirits.

A 1950s flat in downtown LA serves as the crucible for this incandescent merge of ideas. An unapologetic Tallulah Bankhead welcomes guests with her bitter reflections on the industry’s destructive nature, accompanied by a few sassy remarks about how many Dicks (lovely name) she’s been seen with — something vital to brag about no matter how cocky it gets, especially when fooling around with those working behind clappers gives you the clap.

Her acid aging-drag-queen observations are interrupted by the arrival of Billy Haines, once of the biggest cinema stars, but whose refusal to play by the rules of heteronormativity forced him to reinvent himself as an interior designer. Yet, it might be time to start a new chapter somewhere else and move away from the artificial prototype of life that Hollywoodland prearranges for its tenants.

Their effervescent rendezvous is completed by the arrival of Henry Wilson, a ruthless agent with an uncanny talent to turn random nobodies into the most sought-after leading men — the only catch is that the usual ten percent comes with some additional training behind the door and under his desk. His latest acquisition, a young, innocent wannabe actor who goes by the artistic name of Chad Manford, has already learned the game. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg in the spiral of abuse that’s bound to unravel.

It may seem crazy to even consider having the slightest laugh in what, eventually, is a saddening but accurate depiction of how the world works. Then again, it would be queerer not to expect a gay play to overflow with biting sharpness — at least, when done the right way. McKeever’s skillfulness in blending humour and tragedy is simply extraordinary. Crafting an impeccable structure, where the story’s pacing moves at an overall perfect cadence, his ability to sustain the tension without forsaking the comedy is what makes his writing so deliciously engaging.

His vivid exploration of the human soul allows the plot to get under the viewer’s skin, and subsequently, delve into their heart with a tight grip. It’s a tale of roaring resonance about the sacrifices some make when chasing an idea of happiness — not realising that their true happiness is, in fact, the first thing that such pursuit puts at stake. As Tallulah hints to the audience, this is not a reality all gay men have escaped from nowadays — and even if they had, forgetting the past is a golden ticket to mark its return.

Despite the mystique surrounding their big names, none of the roles comes across as archetypal — quite the opposite. Flaunting depth and authenticity, the characters’ notable evolution is even more striking given the piece’s roughly 90-minute duration. There’s virtually nothing to include or trim from the script. Every element has a purpose and serves it with exceptional deftness. By the middle of the performance, our investment in their journey couldn’t be higher. And by the time the ending approaches, and that harrowing telephone call is made, the silent cries of everyone who’s been watching echo all across the room.

The strength of the text is evenly matched by the cast’s astounding prowess. No portrayal feels out of place — with every member exuding a stirring degree of rapport despite the differentiated style of their deliveries. Traci Bennett’s camp but spot-on rendition of Tallulah Bankhead, possibly also influenced by Bette Davis’s similar mannerisms, is a classic in its own right — with a flawless impersonation of her distinctive raspy voice, which is so impressive that it is almost unsettling.

John Partridge gives an electrifying performance as Billy Haines, endowing him with an aura of audacious charm that glowingly encapsulates the character’s resilient personality. Conversely, Nick Blakeley brilliantly conveys Henry Wilson’s predatory intentions through a Machiavellian interpretation, which accentuates the role’s twisted undertone. Finally, Solomon Davy also makes a memorable appearance as Chad Manford, playing the part with elegance and flair while regaling us with a few moments of arresting poignancy.

It’s 3:07 in the morning by the time I’m finishing writing this review. Normally, I would have slept on it before penning the very first word. But that’s how confident I’ve been about the quality of this show. Making a sonorous statement about the mistreatment of LGBT people (and particularly, gay men) across history without renouncing its chances to put a few smiles on our faces, The Code lands in the off West End scene as one of the strongest offers of the season. Fresh, piercing, and exceedingly entertaining, this Hollywood anti-fantasy sheds light, sets the camera, and puts the action into a subject that was so relevant then as it still is now. It’s 3:15 AM now. And that’s a wrap.

All pictures credit to Danny Kaan.

The Code plays at London’s Southwark Playhouse Elephant until 11 October. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara