**Southwark Playhouse Elephant • 12th September - 11th October**

As a gay man and something of a self-confessed film nerd, it is with a mild sense of shame that I confess to not having heard of William ‘Billy’ Haines before last year. “Billy who?”, I hear you ask, (assuming I am not alone in my ignorance), as despite Billy’s meteoric rise to stardom in Hollywood during the twenties and thirties, his lifestyle was deemed so scandalous that it not only brought his acting career to an abrupt end, but it all but exspunged him from the Hollywood history books. The source of the scandal was not so much his daring to be gay, Hollywood at the time being rife with queer actors who were far from being closeted amongst their friends and piers. Where Billy differed from his contemporaries was his refusal to capitulate to the code imposed by studio bosses who demanded that their contracted gay actors either hide or deny their sexuality, MGM studio boss Louis B Mayer making sure that Haines refusal to comply would bring a rapid end to his previously wildly successful career on the big screen.

The decision made by the star to live a more authentic life had previously been the subject of Claudio Macor’s play, The Tailor-Made Man, and it was that production that had been the catalyst for my 2024 descent into a Haines shaped fact-finding rabbit hole. Whilst Michael McKeever’s play The Code once again brings Haines story to the fore, this play moves the action to 1950, twenty years after Haines’ last movie, where we find him not only enjoying a successful career as an interior designer, but also still in a relationship with his partner Jimmie Shields, (the two remained together until Haines death in 1973, their 37 year relationship prompting Joan Crawford’s observation that they were in fact, “the happiest married couple in Hollywood.”)

Whilst Jimmy never actually makes an appearance in The Code, (he is away on business for the duration of the play), McKeever does bring American actress Tallulah Bankhead (Tracie Bennett), and controversial Hollywood talent agent Henry Willson (Nick Blakeley) to Haines stylish residence where the story unfolds. (Some impressive period set design from Ethan Cheek). The group have gathered for cocktails before a dinner date at legendary director George Cukor’s house. Whilst McKeever notes in the programme that there is no evidence that Haines and Willson ever met in real life, he has brought the two together to highlight a stark truth of the time, that actors could either play the game and surrender everything in the pursuit of fame and the illusion of happiness, or reject its trappings in favour of a life lived with honesty and authenticity. As the cocktails flow the atmosphere turns decidedly darker, and whilst Haines and Willson’s conversation becomes increasingly argumentative as they vigorously defend opposing ends of the fame-game spectrum, McKeever cleverly inserts a naive young actor into the mix who, as Willson’s latest protege, finds himself having to make the same heartbreaking decision as many that came before him… wether to sacrifice his own personal happiness for his potential professional gain.

Whilst I must confess to finding the play’s energy sag slightly when Willson is required to bring the young Manford, (and no doubt many in the audience), up to speed on exactly who Billy Haines was in his heyday, the somewhat clunky slice of exposition fortunately didn’t detract from the delight of having The Code unfold almost as a sequel to The Tailor-Made Man, McKeever’s script more-or-less picking up from where Macor’s had ended. The sharp script and assured direction in conjunction with some memorable performances throughout, made it a pleasure to be in Haines company once again, returning to a time when Hollywood was still capable of creating stars of the like we are unlikely to see again… albeit their fame being a fabricated illusion used to mask the much darker underbelly of the star-making system.

This backdrop is acknowledged right from the start with a lone Tallulah Bankhead (herself openly bisexual at the time) on stage to inform the audience “This entire town is a cesspool darling, albeit a beautifully lit, well appointed cesspool, but a cesspool nonetheless.” From that opening line Tracie Bennett proceeds to deliver a faultless performance as the straight-talking, deliciously cynical, (and increasingly intoxicated) Bankhead. It’s a performance that may well have stolen the show were it not matched by three equally impressive portrayals, each one a real testament to the power of great casting. John Partridge with his slicked-back hair and disarmingly chiselled features seemed every inch the matinee idol, whilst Nick Blakeley seems equally able to slip into Willson’s darker and unnervingly manipulative skin. As the young, naive, (and so far innocent) actor Chad Manford, Solomon Davy could easily have found himself with much less material to get his teeth into, but as the story unfolds Davy proves more than capable of portraying Manford as a fully rounded character able to hit the audience with such an emotional sucker-punch that it prompted an audible gasp from the audience.

Director Christopher Renshaw does a great job throughout, the deliberate and precise placing of his actors at any given time never failing to hold the audience’s attention throughout this sharp, but dialogue heavy script, succeeding, on the whole, in his negotiation of the theatres occasionally tricky thrust stage design. With each character being given their own time to shine, the play is never anything less than engaging as well as being surprisingly moving, even if this 90 minute, single act play refuses to strays from it’s single, albeit well dressed location.

Despite being a potentially tricky watch for anyone who has just given up drinking or smoking, (there is a lot of both), this dark yet witty production is superbly cast and is far from being just a nostalgic curio about 1950’s Hollywood, as the spotlight it shines on the devastating sacrifices made in the pursuit of fame somehow seems unnervingly relevant in 2025.

★★★★★