Merging the history of diva worship in the queer community, the tragedy of the AIDS epidemic, Madonna’s unmatched influence on pop culture, and the double-edged sword that is HIV recovery, Brian Mullin’s new play is a valiant effort at queer authenticity. Live to Tell: (a Proposal for) the Madonna Jukebox Musical, playing at Clapham’s Omnibus Theatre until the 18th of February, is a step inside the psyche of playwright Brian Mullin as he strives to pitch a musical to the Queen of Pop herself.
As he disentangles the many iterations of Madonna’s life and career, Brian too aspires to reinvent himself. However, to do so means to confront his own internalised fears of abandonment, vulnerability, survival, and recovery.
Unfortunately, despite its clever premise and rich potential for formal innovation, Live to Tell largely regurgitates what we already know under the guise of authorial honesty. Its storytelling manages to be both overwrought and too rudimentary to be engaging, with a cast of underdeveloped characters not satirical enough to be parodies of themselves, but also not developed enough to be authentic.
Given its propositional conceit (Brian pitches us his show as he develops it), the show remains necessarily performative. Brian works through his metaphors of illness, disability, and pop culture as he writes them, often explaining them at unnecessary length and at times even exploiting them. Though this lends itself to some interesting playfulness in form, the show’s more tender and poignant moments are also beleaguered by explaining their worth rather than letting them stand on their own.
In this way, Live to Tell often feels as though it hasn’t quite decided on what it is, what it has to say, and how it wants to say it. Brian’s script is both modest and convoluted, unsubtle and opaque. The show’s performances are similarly varied: Mullin’s performance feels presentational and over-rehearsed, unable to stand out from his muddled text, while de la Motte’s spirited rendition of the play’s cast of side-characters adds improvised moments of humour and sincerity which the show’s script often lacks.
What results is a play which simultaneously condescends, dragging out basic metaphors as though they aren’t already apparent, and disappoints, putting its lack of execution on display as an artistic choice.
Moreover, rarely does Live to Tell attempt to reach beyond the myopic experiences of its playwright to critique the power structures behind its main character’s struggles. It lacks the critical engagement with politics and social justice inextricable to discussions of queerness, survival, and rehabilitation, and shies away from critiques of defective bureaucracy, Big Pharma, capitalism, oppression olympics, and the erasure of authentic queer subcultures.
Ultimately, while Live to Tell may be a necessary step in refining Mullin’s generous potential as a playwright and actor, it often buckles under the weight of its own importance.
Live to Tell will runt at Camden People’s Theatre from Tuesday 4 – Saturday 15 April. Tickets are on sale here
