The Garden of Alla: they had wisecracks then
7 Jul 2022

by Drew Rowsome - photos supplied by Minmar Gaslight Productions

The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death
- Oscar Wilde

The Garden of Alla begins with a dramatic rendition of that very line from Oscar Wilde's notorious Salome. It's an apt launching point as The Garden of Alla is tangentially about the creation of the 1923 film version of Salome. But The Garden of Alla is explicitly about love being more important to our protagonist, diva bisexual Alla Nazimova, than death. At least the death of her career.

Her husband, director Charles Bryant, is against the project as Wilde's play has been banned for decades and Bryant is ensconced in the closet. He has fears of scandal, the imminent arrival of the Hays code, and financial ruin. Nazimova's lover, costume and set designer Natacha Rambova, is just happy to have a gig where money is no object and she can be as gloriously extravagant as she wants. Aside from her torrid affair with Nazimova, Rambova has her eye on heartthrob, Rudolph Valentino. Nazimova, Bryant and Rambova drink, bicker and banter in a very Wildean/Coward-esque manner and we are treated to an entertaining journey into the death of gay sexual chic as the 1920s turn from roaring to repressive.

Playwright Steven Elliott Jackson (The Seat Next to the King, Threesome, Real Life Superhero) is less interested in film history than the history of gay mores in Hollywood and, by extension, the world at large. Setting the backdrop to the action requires a lot of exposition but fortunately most of it is gleefully gossipy. Jackson is also examining the evolution of celebrity culture and how it went from promotional and controlled, to vicious and destructive. This is not a dry treatise or a film or queer studies riff, Jackson has crafted deliciously brittle dialogue that is self-consciously camp and flat-out hilarious. Dialogue that the cast bites into and delivers with a skill more associated with great stars of stage and screen than mere mortal thespians. They had wisecracks then.

Rebecca Perry is a delightfully imperious Nazimova. Calculating, cutting and sensually aloof, Perry finds just the right mixture of self-absorption laced with cracks that ooze self-awareness. It is a fine line to walk but Perry struts right into the thick of it with the fabulous ferocity of a drag queen who has based her act on golden age Hollywood's glory. Shawn Lall as Bryant is a spitfire sparring partner. His dry delivery and rapid fire comebacks prove the gay reputation for wit above all to be accurate. Rambova is a less flamboyant character, but Neta J Rose gets their share of one-liners and is a master of the subtle double takedown. It is also a role that requires a crafted sexuality as a foil to Perry's brazen lustiness. It is a shame that we learn so little of Lall's dalliances and pleasures, but the girls are in charge of this garden. Nazimova has a great line that her and Bryant's sex life happens only when a certain level of boredom has set in, but their physical ease with each other belies that statement. The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of lust.

Director Andrew Lamb keeps the repartee flowing and makes good use of the limited set elements the Fringe allows. The garden metaphor is beautifully and subtly tied in, though disguising the scene changes with a clapboard feels gimmicky. Like all show business biographies, The Garden of Alla starts frivolously and energetically. The drama of the downfall grows melodramatic and one wishes that there had been time to expand The Garden of Alla into the full two-act play it deserves to be. The final scenes have to be condensed into a monologue that is, unfortunately, packed with exposition. The gossip gets gloomy instead of salacious. However Perry is up to the task and with a wink and several flounces she gets us through the turgidity and almost achieves the dramatic diva denouement that Nazimova, Jackson and the audience craves.