Watching Jackie, the life of Jackie Bouvier Kennedy Onassis,
is akin to licking a salted slug off a limp lettuce leaf. A lumpy script,
which lurches between farce and docu-drama via Fast Show soundbites without
the laughs, lets down the obviously gigantic investment in props.
With the exception of Harriet Thorpe, from The Brittas Empire, the cast canters
through the production obviously anxious for the final curtain and a fast
exit.
Jackie's closing line begging the world to 'go home and leave me alone' came
two hours too late.
The show looks like a series of sketches which, presented in New York, may
have raised laughs in a 50 seat alternative comedy venue, but doesn't warrent
wasting a West End Theatre on it. Even throwing in uptodate allusions to Clinton's
peccadillos and Kate Winslett on the Titanic can't save this monster from
the iceberg.
If you really must buy tickets to Jackie, give them to a hated relative for
Christmas.
Jackie is on at The Queens Theatre, Shaftsbury Avenue for what I predict will
be a very limited run.
Published in QX Magazine © Paul Towers 26/10/1998
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