Marlene at the Herald Theatre

By MICHELE HEWITSON

Backstage in a Paris theatre, we are waiting for Marlene Dietrich to arrive. This is just another stop on the road tour of a fading star. "You know what I am in the end?" growls Jennifer Ward-Lealand's Marlene, "A long-distance truck driver."

Setting this play backstage allows for much faffing about with props by way of signalling that the star is difficult and needy. Dietrich needs drink and musical scores. And a bucket of water, scrubbing brush and rubber gloves. She scrubs, vacuums and sweeps. She can't trust anyone else to keep the place clean. She gets terrible stage fright. Flowers for the bouquets must be organised. Dietrich provided her own, to be presented by the usherettes as she takes her final bows. This is both a failure of confidence - what if nobody liked her enough to send flowers? - and another clue to her obsessive nature.

It is all show and hardly telling.

Fortunately, Ward-Lealand is glorious as Marlene. She sings; she is calculating and coquettish; she cracks one-liners with cruel glee. Unfortunately, the one-liners aren't up to much. She looks glam in Elizabeth Whiting's fabulous costumes. But they remain costumes.

Watching Marlene is not much like watching a play. For all that Ward-Lealand shines - she makes a valiant show of creating an interesting illusion out of pretty thin air - Marlene is more a mere doodle than a drama.

The real problem is knowing whether this is a bit of a play with cabaret tacked on the end; or whether it is cabaret with a bit of a play tacked on the beginning. And while the singing is enjoyable enough, it's hard to resist the comparison with those impersonators of famous singing performers like, well, Dietrich.

The bit players exist only to give Marlene bodies to throw her one-liners at. Mutti (June Bishop) hasn't spoken "since Dachau". This is supposed to indicate tragedy. The real tragedy is that Mutti remains a figure of fun.

Anna Hewlett's Vivian is supposed to provide that little frisson of (bi)sexuality. The effect is like watching Dietrich playing with a trembling mouse. And this is poor sport.

Marlene is such a slight vehicle that it leaves you with the impression of having just listened to some old gossip about a dead star.