Review: MONSTERING THE ROCKETMAN, Arcola Theatre

Despite its title, Elton John is far from the central focus of Henry Naylor’s blisteringly paced one-man show, Monstering the Rocketman. Instead, the target of Naylor’s pen is British journalism, and specifically the thriving 1980s tabloid press.

Set in the lead-up to Elton’s landmark 1987 libel case against The Sun, following the paper publishing unfounded allegations that he had had sex with rent boys, our tale centres on a young trainee reporter known only as ‘Lynx’ (like the particularly pungent aftershave he wears). Lynx works at The Sun during the reign of its notorious ‘kingmaker’ editor, Kelvin Mackenzie, when the options for young journalists were “people read your work, or you work for The Guardian” (the more things change).

This is an ambitiously complex plot for a one-hander, that shows every tawdry facet of showbiz journalism, and manages to fit in carjacking, bugged hotel rooms, failed undercover operations and a scene set on Concorde. Naylor’s agile character work drags us along for the ride, conjuring the sense of a chaotic, unscrupulous newsroom, and he’s especially compelling as Mackenzie, oozing sliminess and blind rage in equal measure.

But the often poetic script, also written by Naylor, is there to bring the hijinks back down to Earth. There’s some poignant imagery – everyone’s hands are constantly stained with ink – and a subtle understanding of the ethical dilemmas individual journalists face. And in case you ever forgot for a second that this is based on a true story, almost every jawdroppingly tasteless headline mentioned in the script gets promptly projected onto screens surrounding the stage.

Worthy though it is to tell a story reminding audiences of just how influential journalism can be, often they hit the audience with all the subtlety of one of those Sun headlines on the projector. Lynx declares in frustration at one point that “I am a journalist, I have integrity”, and as The Sun gets its comeuppance, there are some clumsy attempts to remind us that journalism (and social media) are still just as bad. For all of its fascination with the ethical lines reporters cross, in the end the text does little more than gesture vaguely at the problem.

The script also suffers something of an identity crisis when it comes to its protagonist. There’s a charming scrappiness to the way Lynx is written, but the melodramatic backstory about his father dying in the line of duty as a foreign correspondent adds a layer of motivation that shouldn’t be necessary in explaining a character’s love of journalism. It’s also delivered under an oversized standing lamp, an intimate set piece that rather disrupts the screwball tone of the rest of the show.

With this as a foundation, Monstering the Rocketman then tries to be a kind of bildungsroman for Lynx, leading to his sudden epiphany about The Sun’s homophobia. Given this is an astute journalist at a paper regularly using terms like “p**fter” and “gay plague” in its headlines, this turn of events stretches credulity.

Perhaps the problem with Monstering the Rocketman is that we sadly already know all too well the ways that media protects the powerful and caters to the lowest denominator, and so there isn’t a great deal new to say. Still, it’s a mile-a-minute romp with a strong sense of time and place, and a useful reminder of an important chapter in UK media history.

Monstering the Rocketman plays at the Arcola Theatre until 21 February