Review: WHO KILLED MARILYN?, The Emerald Theatre
Sharleen Cooper Cohen's new play starring Pixie Lott runs until October 29
With 600 books written about her (on par with Napoleon, Shakespeare and Jesus Christ) plus several depictions across stage and screen, blonde bombshell Marilyn Monroe remains a beloved screen icon with a personal life while well documented is still shrouded in mystery. On one hand, her life can be given new meaning such as My Weekend With Marilyn. On the other hand, it can learn into the exploitative such as the controversial Blonde. Unfortunately, new play Who Killed Marilyn? falls hard into the latter.
In the programme director Phillip Wm McKinley claims the play lets the audience decide whether what they see onstage is true or not, but when watching it, it seems they already made that decision for us. Rather than committing suicide or an accidental overdose, Sharleen Cooper Cohen’s book leans into conspiracies first peddled by Milo Speriglio and Anthony Summers that Monroe was instead murdered due to her connections with the Kennedys. Despite seemingly based on years of research and the insistence that Monroe isn’t a dumb blonde boy crazy victim, Cooper instead regresses her life with as much substance as a Wikipedia summary - and even that gave Monroe more depth and grace in my research.
With little cohesion, McKinley’s direction sporadically flashes - quite literally from Jack Weir’s blinding lighting design and Justin Williams’ uninspired set - back and forth between the moments after Monroe's death and a series of memories that are ridiculous at best and crass at worst. What we quickly learn is rather than the complex woman who carefully crafted her public persona, Monroe is instead defined by the men around her.
Breezing through her relationships with Joe DiMaggio, Arthur Miller and John F and Bob Kennedy - ignoring her first marriage to James Dougherty at sixteen - and her connections to the Mafia in dialogue that feels straight out of ChatGPT, it leaves no room for other fascinating areas of Monroe's life such as her relationship with her mentally ill mother. It nearly offers nuance with two impassioned monologues surrounding her perfectionism in front of the camera and an epiphany during her final therapy session, but by then it’s too little too late. There are also mentions of her alleged abortions of which there are no historical accounts of, let alone that she was forced into having, feeling all the more in poor taste when taking her endometriosis and miscarriages into account.
Photo credit: Pamela Raith
Pop singer Pixie Lott steps into Monroe’s shoes, and while a valiant effort cannot be saved by her material. She at least looks the part styled in Monroe's voluminous blonde bob and red lip courtesy of JJ Wigs’ wig and makeup design yet dressed in a plastic looking white top and trousers by Jasmine Swan that screams more Sandy in Grease than The Girl in The Seven Year Itch. Strutting around offering a coquettish wink to the audience in her breathy voice many will be familiar from film, you can't help feeling like you're watching a caricature, best exemplified by her one musical moment singing Happy Birthday Mr President.
The rest of the cast unfortunately don’t fare better, multiroling as forced cartoons dressed in blue suits with strange splashes. Paul Kane attempts to bring charm to Bobby Kennedy while Ben Dilloway attempts to bring as Arthur Miller. Among them it's the gangsters and FBI agents with the worst material, Martin Hancock sadly riddled with the most cartoonish depiction of a mob boss as Sam Giancana.
In a time when the media’s obsession with young troubled Hollywood women continues to be rampant, there could be merit behind the exploring the ethics of reexamining Marilyn Monroe’s death. Instead, Who Killed Marilyn? becomes the thing it tries to critique. Perhaps the question surrounding Monroe's death shouldn't be ‘Who killed her?’ but rather ‘Why aren't we leaving her to rest?’
Who Killed Marilyn? runs at the Emerald Theatre until October 29.
Photo credits: Pamela Raith
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