John P. McEneny brings The Bloody Ballad of Bette Davis to the Edinburgh Fringe, a bold new camp horror musical that reimagines the life of one of Hollywood’s most iconic stars. Blending fantasy with biography, the show dives into the darker side of fame and legacy.
As writer and director, McEneny explores themes of aging, motherhood and survival in the spotlight, set against a vibrant and eclectic musical score. The production promises an inventive fusion of physical theatre, humour and gothic flair.
The Bloody Ballad of Bette Davis runs at Assembly Roxy Upstairs, Venue 139, from 6–30 August (excluding 5, 13, 20 and 27) at 15:00 (16:00). Tickets are available here.
You’ve written and directed The Bloody Ballad of Bette Davis at Assembly Roxy Upstairs. What can you tell us about the show?
The Bloody Ballad of Bette Davis is a fever dream horror musical inspired by one of Hollywood’s strangest true stories.
In 2017, Bette Davis’s daughter, B.D. Hyman, publicly claimed that her mother practised witchcraft and transformed into a clawed demonic creature. That accusation became the starting point for the show.
From there, the story becomes a fantasia. Amelia Earhart is a witch. Oliver Reed is drinking his way through the filming of Burnt Offerings. Karen Black represents a new generation of actors.
At the centre is Bette Davis, nearing the end of her career, still trying to find the next role. There are demons, spells, music and more than a little absurdity.
But underneath all of that, it’s really about what happens to artists when the world starts looking somewhere else. Bette Davis never stopped working. The older I get, the more interesting that version of her becomes.
What first inspired you to explore Bette Davis’s life and legacy, and why did you choose the framework of a camp horror musical?
It began with Burnt Offerings. I first saw it as a kid, and it terrified me.
Fifty years later, I watched it again, expecting to be frightened by the haunted house. Instead, I found myself watching Bette Davis. Here was one of the greatest actresses in American history, wearing a cheap grey wig in a modest horror film, still showing up and still doing the work.
That image stayed with me.
The musical found its own shape. The more I read about Bette Davis, Oliver Reed, Karen Black and B.D. Hyman’s extraordinary claims about witchcraft, the stranger the real story became.
I stopped trying to write a biography and started following the world these people seemed to inhabit. Hollywood already feels like mythology. A fever dream horror musical simply felt like the most honest way to tell the story.
Beneath all the witches, demons and absurdity, it’s really about an artist trying not to disappear.
The show blends styles from disco to rock and classic musical theatre influences. How did you and composer Rob Parker shape the sound of the piece?
There was an interesting set of challenges in the piece. We range over many years looking at Bette’s story, and it has always been vital that the songs advance the narrative as well as enhancing the audience’s understanding of the characters’ emotional states.
There is a sense of the diva about Bette, and that is represented in the style of a number of the songs, harking back to influences such as Kander and Ebb in Cabaret.
Once we start to explore the filming of Burnt Offerings, though, the story settles in the 1970s, and that is when the disco and rock elements come to the fore.
It is an ensemble piece, and all five actors sing, so we are able to use close harmony to enrich the sound and root it firmly in the realm of musical theatre.
There is a variety within the unity of the show that keeps the score lively and vibrant and avoids the different styles becoming disparate.
The narrative focuses on ageing, motherhood and conflict. What drew you to these themes and how do they resonate with contemporary audiences?
What surprised me was that I didn’t end up writing a play about witchcraft. I ended up writing about work.
Bette Davis kept working through bad reviews, changing fashions, illness, family conflict and an industry that was always looking for someone younger. I found that deeply moving.
I know actors like that. I know teachers like that. People who simply keep showing up because they don’t know how to live any other way.
The older I’ve become, the less interested I am in whether someone was right or wrong. I’m more interested in what they gave up to become who they became.
Bette’s career was extraordinary. So were the costs.
I don’t think those questions belong to Hollywood. I think they belong to anyone who has devoted themselves to something they love.
Piper Theatre Productions is known for its ensemble storytelling and physical theatre approach. How have those techniques influenced this production?
I’ve always been on Blanche DuBois’s side. I don’t want realism. I want magic.
If I wanted realism, I’d stay home and watch television.
At Piper, we’ve always loved transformation. One actor becomes five people. A chair becomes a throne. An ensemble becomes a storm, a haunted house or a room full of cats.
The audience watches it happen and chooses to believe it.
The Bloody Ballad of Bette Davis demanded that kind of storytelling. The play slips between memory, gossip, fantasy and history, often in the same scene.
We don’t hide the mechanics. We celebrate them.
There’s something thrilling about watching an actor step into the light and become someone else with almost nothing except imagination.
What would you say to anyone thinking of booking to see The Bloody Ballad of Bette Davis?
It’s only an hour.
We laugh a lot.
There are witches, demons, Oliver Reed, Karen Black and one very determined goat.
But underneath all of that, it’s really about an artist trying to figure out whether a lifetime of work was worth it.
I think that’s a question most of us eventually ask ourselves.
