But it's also representing a Disneyfied version of the same kind of building, a bungalow in the middle of a Hollywood studio that Alfred Hitchcock (Ian McNeice) has bought himself and decorated as a quaint vision of England - a kind of fake nostalgia as he admits it's not really a style linked to any happy childhood memories, but it fits the image of the grand old British director.
In 1964, Hitchcock is in the middle of filming Marnie, the second of his movies to star Tippi Hedren (Joanna Vanderham,) and he's called her round to the bungalow to rehearse the next day's scenes. Although he doesn't seem to have much rehearsal planned; ignoring the fact that Hedren's anxiety means she can barely keep food down, he's ordered in a rich three-course meal and wine. He's also brought storyboards for his adaptation of J.M. Barrie's Mary Rose, a project he's had earmarked for all his previous blonde muses/objects of obsession, but he's sure Hedren will finally be the one (he never did make the film.)
A few years later in Suffolk, Reeves has also got his star round for dinner, but the fish he's attempted to cook is inedible, and the reason Vincent Price (Jonathan Hyde) is there is because the director desperately needs to persuade him not to walk off the movie, ending it and Reeves' career in the process. He's having trouble convincing him though, as he's made no secret that he actually wanted Donald Pleasence, and Price was instead foisted on him by the studio. With all four actors staying on stage for almost all of the play’s running time, we mostly segue between the two stories, although sometimes the dialogue overlaps and highlights similarities and differences between the dynamics.
And this actor/director dynamic is what the play explores, in situations where the balance of power is reversed: In Hollywood Hitchcock has all the power, both as the established director and as the man. The main thing I know about Hedren is that her experience working for Hitchcock was so bad she quit acting altogether, which makes this the darker strand of the play as, like her, we can tell the moment Hitchcock will make a sexual move is coming, but we don’t know when. Back in England it’s the actor who’s in control, as the 24-year old Reeves, who sees himself as an auteur, needs to show some respect to the man who could derail his prospects. This is a gentler scene as, despite Price wanting to some degree to humiliate the director for his clumsy way of dealing with actors, there is a growing respect between them as it becomes clear Reeves’ objection to Price is the way he’s become a self-parody to cash in – something Price can’t entirely disagree with. (Who knew we'd get so many references to Egghead, the Batmain villain whose superpower was egg-based puns?)
Where Logan’s play doesn’t really succeed is in convincing that there’s any real overarching theme in common between the two encounters, beyond the general idea of power dynamics. There are certainly moments where events in one section are a reflection of those in the other, and not just when he has the dialogue overlap: Reeves defending the goriness of Witchfinder General as a response to other films’ love of showing violence without showing the consequences, contrasts with Hitchcock justifying the violence and misogyny in Marnie as a transparent way of defending his own letching behaviour towards his leading ladies; an unsavoury but impressive element of McNeice’s performance is the way he never overstates Hitchcock’s predatory nature but manages to have it underpin the action at all times. But for all the interesting elements it would be hard to pin down what they make the play as a whole about.
But ultimately Jonathan Kent’s production is an entertaining and successful evening, helped hugely by a cast that keeps you engrossed even if this boils down to two pairs of people talking in dimly-lit rooms for 90 minutes. Those playing the more famous characters don’t really try to do impressions, which is probably for the best – Hitchcock and Price in particular are so well-known and cartoonish anyway, this approach means they can be created as new characters for this fictionalized version of them. The Witchfinder section is probably the most enjoyable and not just because Polonski ends up in his pants at one point. Despite the power difference they feel more evenly matched, you root for them to find common ground and there’s a melancholy atmosphere to the whole thing that’s not overstated: There’s no epilogue about the characters’ later lives but it wasn’t surprising to look Reeves up afterwards and find out the reason I’d never heard of him was that he died (of an accidental overdose) within a year of these events. The creepiness of the Marnie section means I shuddered a bit every time we came back to it, but even here Logan is building up to giving Hedren a defiant ending. Imperfect as a whole, Double Feature still kept me in its storytelling throughout.
Double Feature by John Logan is booking until the 16th of March at Hampstead Theatre.
Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes straight through.
Photo credit: Manuel Harlan.
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