Review of ‘Speculations’: “Conspiracy-theory play is riddled with hollowness”

It’s ironic how a play exploring the incongruities surrounding three of America’s most notorious assassinations can be so incongruent itself. The fact that someone of Trevor Nunn’s stature agreed to direct it only adds to the mystery—though its lack of quality shouldn’t surprise anyone who witnessed the tuneless spectacle that The Score was.

In any case, the reasons Speculations made it to this stage can only be described as a complete lack of touch and dramaturgical understanding. Whether dissident voices were silenced during rehearsals is for somebody else to investigate. Still, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing like performing the work to let the truth come out. So it does, and it doesn’t paint a pretty picture for anyone involved — with the exception of a few cast members.

Reputed journalist and television personality Dorothy Kilgallen is typing her upcoming book while her phone rings. Someone is watching her every move — and her young son’s. Minutes later, her new nanny, Flo, arrives at her flat. Despite Kilgallen’s justifiable paranoia, she takes an instant liking to her, confiding the juicy secrets of her latest research, showing her the ropes of investigative journalism and, while she’s at it, treating her and her family to the theatre.

It makes as much sense as it sounds. And that’s no sense at all. Torben Betts’s clunky writing exposes its flaws unashamedly while trying to convince itself (and the viewer) that it’s actually good. Using Kilgallen’s first encounter with her new employee as a framing device for allegedly confidential material is next-level clumsiness. The most frustrating part is that it could still have a pass if it ended there. But it doesn’t. Ultimately, we are introduced to an embedded narrative that doesn’t hold up to anything, inevitably leading to an utterly dull, pointless experience overall.

The set pieces spin as Kilgallen’s lush apartment transforms into Marilyn Monroe’s bedroom, where a presumed heated argument between the Hollywood star and the upcoming presidential candidate, Robert F. Kennedy, is taking place. Subsequently, we’re transported into a New Orleans nightclub, where a struggling Lee Harvey Oswald is having a stealthy conversation with an Italian-American capo about how to realise his dreams of a brighter future. But before reaching paradise, he must bite the bullet.

Both locations are excellent settings, and their premises are a wonderful starting point for a enthralling drama. Eventually, none of that happens. Like its rotating scenery, all the script does is move in circles without making the slightest progress. From the beginning, the conspiracy theories surrounding Marilyn, JFK, and Oswald’s deaths are given to us plain and square. And that’s exactly how the rest of the play comes across: unappealing and deeply uninteresting.

There’s virtually nothing else to discover. As a result, the storyline is excruciatingly flat and stagnant. It barely offers anything but exposition, and it doesn’t even do that well. Some sections feature a few thought-provoking lines, but many others are filled with heavy-handed dialogue that screams soap-operatic stiltedness.

Somehow, the author seems aware of those issues. But rather than amending the piece, he tries to disguise them by letting the personages (primarily Kilgallen) acknowledge how implausible their behaviour is. Suffice it to say that it doesn’t do the trick. And instead of making their demeanour credible, it emphasises his negligence as a dramatist. An ersatz of a character arc is attempted through Flo’s disillusionment with the Kennedy family (a beacon of hope for the black community), but her journey is so vacuous and shallow that it achieves no grip or resonance whatsoever.

Most performances are decent, and some of them even shine. Janie Dee’s portrayal of Dorothy brims with the natural panache of a veteran actress, whose magnetism can’t be clouded by the material’s shoddiness. Similarly, Joseph Potter and Ferdy Roberts dominate the stage with their poised yet towering renditions as Oswald and Marcello, while Jolyon Coy’s Kennedy exhibits humanity.

Sadly, we can’t same the same about Natalie Dunne’s Norma Jean (a.k.a. Marilyn Monroe), who delivers no layering, nuance, or authenticity; rather than presenting us with a desperate, broken woman, we just see someone trying to play that role, which she simply can’t do justice to.

It’s dangerous to speculate without little evidence. And having high expectations based on its cast and creative team was clearly a mistake I don’t intend to repeat. The total absence of tension and predictable dramatic turns (if any) makes watching this show nearly as crazy an idea as the conjectures it depicts. If properly executed, it would have invited audiences to question the reality around them. Unfortunately, all they are likely to question is why they bought a ticket.

All pictures credit to Helen Maybanks.

Speculations plays at London’s Marylebone Theatre until 17 January. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara