Hold a mirror up to a world of saints and sinners peopled by the great and the merely wealthy of the first age of trans-national celebrity.

The main protagonist and narrator, Lulu, arrives from the UK with her family vaudeville act and, as soon as the opportunity presents, flees to a celebrity newspaper. Her own identity is suppressed as she adopts a American name, and spends her time accommodating the whims and caprices of Hollywoodians while enjoying none of the splendour herself:

*The sight of Rudolph Valentino slipping beyond the grasp of millions of women into the arms of a mock-Russian from Utah;

*The cosmic clash between the female titans, Joan Crawford and Bette Davies;

*The weird preferences of that blue angel, Marlene Dietrich; straight, gay or bi, come on, give me a try;

*The covert violence of Bugsy Siegal and overt violence of Lana Turner’s home life.

Eventually her weariness at the denial of self drives her back to her family. The production closes with her being extolled to become again Lulu and the relief she evidently feels..

While Cole Porter remains a known name, the immediate association with many of his ditties may not be apparent. In 55 minutes of stage-time, one was squeezed in every few minutes and all should be recognizable. The stage was comfortably rich in Americana with at least three Stars and Stripes draped over furniture, and the songs accompanied by piano and clarinet.

The cast had fun. You should have fun. Relax, and spend just under an hour listening to tunes which were written to brightened up dreary Depression-era lives. A change in cadence came with the closing music; a mournful Armenian-like lament that conjured up images of grim desolation on the Anatolian plateau.

Alec Macpherson-Glasgow