Norma Jeane Baker of Troy
[Disclaimer: this is not a review. I’m not a reviewer and have no idea how to write these; this is just a note to myself that I will be able to read when I’m 60 years old and which I share here, as paper might burn but the Internet never forgets :D]
Norma Jeane Baker of Troy, The Shed, NYC, 12-19 May 2019
Enter Ben Whishaw as Norma Jeane Baker
I’m not sure what to focus on here – the play or the fact that I FINALLY WENT TO NEW YORK. This past week was so full of, well, everything to me. I always dreamt of leaving Europe for a trip, but only recently managed to save money for that. I have been tremendously sad not to be able to see Ben in ‘The Crucible’, to the point that during the last show I sat on a beach in Spain and couldn’t focus on how lucky I was to be on a beach in Spain – all I wanted was to be in the Walter Kerr Theatre.
The funny thing is, if I were now to choose between ‘The Crucible’ (I saw a recording of it in NY Public Library last week) and NJBoT, I’d choose Norma Jeane without thinking twice. I saw this play 7 times in a row which, I think, speaks for itself.
In the end, I was so lucky as to go to NYC for 10 days with my Ben family, as I like to think of them, people who I know from Ben’s Facebook fan group. I will never take it for granted and it wouldn’t have been the same without them. To go to New York, for over a week, with my best friends, to see Ben Whishaw 7 times in a mind-blowing play – I still don’t know what I did to deserve it. I won’t name them here, as I’m not sure they wish to be mentioned, but one of them kindly offered to host some of us, and I was even more lucky to stay in a real Manhattan flat. In all fairness, this is what made the entire trip possible – or at least what made seeing Ben 7 times in a row from up close possible!
The pace was rather insane. Last time I slept so little was 10 years ago when I went on a summer camp to Portugal, where I was going to sleep at 6am and waking up at 8am to go to work. Just being in New York didn’t allow me to rest. Finally, after so many years of hoping, I was in the city of my dreams, a city where I could name all the buildings and streets without ever being there, just because everyone does know them right? After all, we are being bombarded with images of New York through different movies, series, songs, books. And this place actually does exist and is not just a Hollywood creation. We started every day bright and early (thanks to the time difference it felt like waking up at 12pm) and went off to see the city. Then, every night, we took subway 7 to Hudson Yards to go to The Shed. The only night we didn’t do it was Monday, when there were simply no performances – but trust me I’d have gone if they took place.
That’s enough about Fritz Lang and the city.
The first time we saw the play (12 May) I sat very far, I believe it was the 4th row from the back. Since I then saw it 6 more times, it wasn’t a massive loss, but overall I’d say two things: 1/this play had to be seen from close up, as the lightning was so dim, otherwise you wouldn’t see what happened on the stage and 2/ this play had to be seen multiple times. I truly believe seeing it just once wasn’t enough. It wasn’t like Shakespeare that everyone kind of knows and knows what to expect. I like to compare this play to Hamilton, which is my obsession number 2 (after Ben), where the text is so rich and full of references and innuendos, that it is actually best to come see the show already knowing the lyrics and backstory from listening to the soundtrack. Same happened here, the language or the text worked alongside the actors and I think if you just saw the play once, it wouldn’t make much sense and you’d miss a lot of its beauty. I was already familiar with the story of Marilyn before seeing it (although I did some extra research, read Euripides’ ‘Helen’ etc.), but I heard some people didn’t even know that Marilyn’s real name was Norma Jeane – good luck with that! Anyway, I digress. As we sat very far, I remember I had to lean forward and really strain my eyes to see what was happening. I could barely notice Ben painting his fingernails (it was more that I already heard he was doing it, which made me notice – otherwise it was too dark to see!) or couldn’t get the details of his lingerie or dance. The sound wasn’t bad, but I’d say in this play the visuals are equally important and I completely missed that part. So I spent the first performance pretty much hoping that the next one – where I was supposed to sit closer – would already come.
About 30 minutes after the show has finished, we spotted Ben coming down the escalator. We actually chose deliberately to go on that day (12 May) as that’s when we expected (and weren’t wrong 😉) that he’d win a BAFTA for his performance as Norman Scott (Norma, Norman… his best roles, trust me) in A Very English Scandal. He was alone and about to leave the theatre, but had a while for us – we congratulated him on the BAFTA, to which he just said ‘thank you’ (I’m quite sure he himself got to know about it only minutes beforehand) and then I talked to him about NJBoT, which was the first time that I managed to talk to him about the show at hand. All the previous times I met Ben, I was talking to him about his previous shows or just telling him general thanks. I don’t remember exactly what I said that Sunday, but it surprised me that I managed to say something about Norma. Most importantly, I asked if I can hug him and he just said ‘sure’ and my biggest dream came true and I hugged Ben for a while . He is the sweetest, kindest human being and has so much patience for his fans.
For the second performance, in the end with my friend we decided to exchange seats for even closer ones, as we didn’t want to go through the pain of seeing so little again. Oh Greek gods, what a difference did it make. I finally saw what was happening on stage! On Tuesday it still wasn’t the 1st or 2nd row, so couldn’t see Ben’s face very well, but oh my. I suppose here I will start my general thoughts about the play, irrespective of the day I saw it, as from Wednesday onwards I was sitting pretty much always in the 2nd or 1st row (just once – will get back to that). If I were to describe all remaining 6 performances in detail, this would become a book, not a Tumblr note and not sure anyone would even read it!
This play was everything my poor heart could hope for. Ben finally plays the main role (which is even more prominent since there are only 2 actors on the stage) and there is nothing to take your attention away from him. Renée only emphasizes his powerful presence on stage and in fact one of my impressions after seeing the play and having read it was that they both play the same person. After all, Norma says ‘I am my own chorus’ – and Renée was her chorus. Reflecting her/his thoughts (I will continue using the pronoun ‘his’ as in the text the character is designated as Norma Jeane, but on stage I think Ben played a male playwright, who only gradually becomes Norma), never negating anything, but giving him new ideas, as if they were formed in his brain and took a tangible form as Renée. I think there can be many interpretations here, but I particularly like this one, also because in the text of the play only one character is mentioned – Norma Jeane. Renée’s character isn’t mentioned anywhere in the text and was obviously added just to make it more stage friendly. It was really hard for me to take my eyes away from Ben throughout the play, but when I finally managed to do it, it was amazing to see how they exchanged looks and this interplay of emotions was what made it even more amazing.
The play tells a story of a playwright who creates a replica of Marilyn Monroe out of himself – both visually and mentally. He is mourning her and hires a scribe to write down his stream of consciousness about Norma Jeane. He gradually drops his own male clothes to put on the entire Marilyn attire, which is a beautiful… replica of what was worn back in the 50s (the longline peach corselette and matching panty girdle – not for the faint hearted!) together with Marilyn’s white fluffy mule heels, later on changed to her Seven Year Itch strappy sandals and the iconic white dress (there is an additional layer of white underwear that Ben puts on the girdle); ultimately he wears also the platinum white Marilyn wig. On the mental side, he gradually descends into the depths of Hades and ultimately kills himself, like Marilyn did. In the meantime, he plays ukulele (just like Marilyn), has numerous mental breakdowns, perfectly imitates her delicate dreamy voice (and that of Truman Capote), mocks Arthur Miller’s dimpled white buttocks and dances the entire sequence from ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’ (see here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOkv4jV1-Bo) – more about that dance later on. One remark here – this play spoke so much to me because since I remember I always took style inspiration from my favourite bands and later on actors – even now I proudly wear my black Kanken, inspired by Ben. So yes, I completely understand Ben’s character here. He also adds the breasts, hips and bum padding underneath his lingerie (and moves like a ballerina) and here I must brag, but a kind message to all people who LAUGHED mockingly at it – please go back to primary school and… just stay there. There are two actors, who, in case you don’t realise are real people and laughing off at what they do onstage is just horrible. In case you laughed out of embarrassment, fine, I get that not everyone has to be comfortable with Ben Whishaw applying fake butt under his undies, but for god’s sake, please express it differently than by laughing and commenting. Or laugh internally. Or I don’t know. Good lord. And no, that wasn’t a moment which was supposed to make you laugh, like for example Ben imitating Capote’s voice.
There is this beautiful moment, about 30 mins after the show begins when Ben plays the ukulele and sings ‘I am that Persephone, Who played with her darlings in Sicily, Against a background of social security. Oh what a glorious time we had. Or had we not? They said it was sad. I was born good, grown bad.And isn’t that how it always starts, this myth that ends with the girl ‘grown bad’?, and Renée continues: ‘She’s in a meadow gathering flowers twirling her own small sunny hours’. (I might be a barbarian, but I truly don’t understand people who were like – wow, he dared sing on the same stage as Renée Fleming! – I am a newborn Renée Fleming fan, but come on people. He’s Ben Goddamn Whishaw :D). Suddenly the mood changes dramatically, when everything becomes dark and Ben says in a sinister voice ‘When up rides a man on black horses. Up rides a man in a black hat. Up rides a man with a black letter to deliver’… I don’t know how he does it but in this moment I see Hades in a black robe (yet Ben is still in his peach corset) who came to do something unforgivable. The entire story changes then, when Renée exclaims ‘rape’. ‘Rape is the story of Helen, Persephone, Norma Jeane, Troy’ they continue. Renée then sings ‘War is the context and God is a boy. Oh my darlings, they tell you you’re born with a precious pearl. Truth is, it’s a disaster to be a girl. Up came the black horses and the dark King. And the harsh sunshine was as if it had never been. In the halls of Hades they said I was queen’. That’s what they always say, isn’t it?
She sings it again just at the end of the play when Ben’s Norma Jeane dies and at that point I wasn’t crying, I was ejecting bodily fluids. Apologies to those sitting around me.
Back to Ben’s dance. This play is full of what in Polish I’d call ‘smaczki’ – little flavours that make this play the most tasty dish ever served. Ben’s voice changes, whenever he imitates someone; Renée’s gorgeous singing; the music which was composed uniquely of Renée’s mixed voice; the funny moments, which can so suddenly and unexpectedly turn into the most frightening scene, when in the middle of mocking Arthur of New York and Sparta, a phone rings and everyone is terrified. There’s an enormous amount of language play (language is a third actor on the stage, with gorgeous explanations of the etymology of Greek words – in fact, Ben has an English-Greek dictionary on the desk), there’s Ben playing ukulele and singing, there’s putting on makeup, there’s changing clothes, there’s shouting and throwing things around and then there’s the dance.
My god what Ben can do. WHAT THIS MAN CAN DO. He is so ethereal, lithe, yet with well-toned muscles and he suddenly starts to give this beautiful coy dance, where throughout he hides his face in charming embarrassment and smiles sweetly to Renée. This is one of the moments when I am almost angry that I have to translate my soul, as it would be so much easier to find perfect words for this in Polish, but at least my head is full of them. Writing about this dance (or this play) is anyway as futile as dancing about architecture. Ben looks perfect then, he is just perfection personified. With his little smile, his peach corselette (some other note here on Tumblr said that ‘Ben Whishaw should just exist in this corset’ and yes, he should), his bottle green male pants and the fluffy heels (the connection of the female corselette and the male suit pants is just… send firemen). On top of that, Renée sings like an angel and my brain is so overstimulated from listening to all those language games and being in New York to actually experience it that… (where are the firemen?!)…
But the thing is – and that’s why this play is so amazing – that when you actually find the superhuman power in yourself not to focus on Ben’s dance only, but to also listen to the song they play to it, your brain suddenly registers that something doesn’t fully stick – the music is super cheerful (note: it is not the same music as the one in Marilyn’s video from ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’) – it’s a typical 50s song with blurred voices, but the text is rather morose and it goes like ‘Dirt is matter out of place, matter out of place. A poached egg on your plate at breakfast is not dirt. The poached egg on page 202 of the Greek lexicon in the library of the British Museum is dirt. Dirt is something that has crossed a boundary it ought not to have crossed. Dirt confuses categories and mixes up form’ (I researched a bit and there’s an entire book on this topic, ‘Purity and Danger’ by Mary Douglas, where the main point being analysed is that what is regarded as dirt in a given spot is any matter out of place. What was considered clean in Sparta, wasn’t clean in Troy and vice versa. That’s the gist. Anne Carson I love you.)
Noone cries like Ben Whishaw. It really hurts all parts of my body to watch this. And it is so beautiful to watch Renée being concerned about him and the state he found himself in. One of the most beautiful scenes in the play is when Ben sits down at his desk and Renée very delicately takes his head in her hand and applies the fake eyelashes to his eyes, singing in a way that makes my heart break. There is so much love in this scene and acceptance and will of help and saying: I’m here for you and I will go with you on this journey.
And then suddenly you see he starts to take the pills and swallowing them with the fake theatre champagne and that’s when I start ejecting bodily fluids again. Renée comes back with her ‘Up came the black horses and the dark King. And the harsh sunshine was as if it had never been. In the halls of Hades they said I was queen’.
I suppose this text I wrote now will never be finished as memories and new realisations will keep on coming back to me and that’s where the beauty of this play lies – it’s an endless fishing ground for references and innuendos, interpretations and new things to be understood. But, enough for now.
I talked to Ben 3 more times after the play, on 14, 17 and 19 May. I now barely remember what I said precisely, but on Tuesday I told him how utterly enchanted I am by this play and that it talks about so many important things to me and doesn’t seem strange at all. Sunday was mad, as one can expect after the end of a run, with a long queue of fans (I gave Ben bright red roses, thanked him for the umpteenth time and complimented his new shirt, which he bought on Friday – don’t ask how I know it, I’m just a very careful observer LOL. He is my style guru, so I had to haha). With my friend we even managed to chat to the CEO of The Shed, Alex Poots, who was so amazed that we saw Norma Jeane 7 times, that he took out his iPhone and asked us to record a video where we recommend the show (bit late for that on the last night, but he can rest assured that I will be back!).
But Friday was just something else. Perhaps it was the power of red wine or the fact that Ben was going home alone and not with Mark or friends, but we approached him together with quite a few other fans and I swear to god, we had the funniest ever chat with him. To put it briefly, Ben was surrounded by around 10-15 fans and chatting to us in a very lovely, cheeky way (I love his sense of humour. I love everything about him, but that night it was just too much). Like imagine it. Someone asked him ‘Ben, what is the perfume that you wear?’ and he goes ‘Oh, it’s this, wait, I’ll show you’ and he took the perfume out of his tote bag and demonstrated it to everyone, gaining a round of ‘Awwwwwwww’. I still can’t believe it happened haha. One of my friends asked if he saw and liked Bjork and they chatted a bit about it and then Ben asked us if we did see her too, to which I replied ‘no, because we saw ANOTHER SHOW’. I could see that he was thinking and then suddenly it clicked, but I guess by that time he was perfectly aware that some of us saw it 7 times haha. He also told us ‘Don’t sit again in the first row, I can see you all’ (that’s what I meant when I said I will get back to the issue of sitting in the 1st row :D). Sweet lord. Best week of my life.
