Writer: Jonathan Tolins
Director: Kirk Jameson
Barbra Streisand has a shopping mall in her basement. Not a real one, of course – that would be silly. Instead, a corridor in her Malibu compound has been fitted with replica storefronts, providing themed environments in which to display her antique collections. A dress shop houses some costumes from her stage and screen career; “Bee’s Doll Shop” displays her collection of freaky toys and automata, and there’s even a “Gift Shoppe”.
That much is true and has been documented in TV interviews as well as in actress-writer-director-producer Streisand’s own book, My Passion for Design (writer and principal photographer, B. Streisand). In Buyer and Cellar, writer Jonathan Tolins takes the facts of the mall’s existence and plops into it the imagined character of Alex More, an out-of-work actor who is hired to work there, in case Barbra ever feels the need to pop down and “buy” something from her own collection.
The fictitious nature of Tolis’s premise is drilled into us in the first segment of Rob Madge’s solo performance. As Alex, they remind us that they are a made-up character, that the story we are about to be told never happened, and that they don’t, and won’t, impersonate the real Streisand in any way.
What that leaves us with is a show that in part venerates the eccentric multi-hyphenate actor, but also tears her – or, at least, Tolins’s imagined version of her – down several pegs in the process. From Alex’s first encounter with the star, who introduces herself as a roleplaying shopper, “Sadie”, Madge gives us a version of Streisand that comes across as the love child of Ethel Merman and Princess Diana.
One advantage of this fictitious approach is that it avoids litigation, but it also calls into question the whole point of the play. As Alex’s boyfriend, Barry – who starts out as a Streisand stan, only to get cooler and bitchier about her – begins to viciously deconstruct her crafted persona, it’s hard to know how much of that vitriol is aimed at the real person and how much at the very different Barbra created for the show.
Throughout, though, Madge is a joy to watch. Their performance as Alex, Barry, Barbra and others, including Streisand’s husband James Brolin, is frequently hilarious. There is an ever-present twinkle in their eye; they know, as much as we do, that this frippery has its weak spots. There are references in Tolins’s script to Jewish stereotypical traits that probably sit better within the New York theatre community where the play originated than they do in London some 10 years later. A pause, a slightly arched eyebrow, and Madge lets us know that they are aware.
Indeed, Buyer and Cellar is much more effective as a showcase for Rob Madge’s comedic and dramatic abilities than as a play in its own right. Together with Madge, director Kirk Jameson helps the theatre’s thrust arrangement work, ensuring that the audience feels like it is being spoken to directly even when the performer has their back to us. Subtle lighting cues from Jack Weir and a score by Emily Rose Simons, drawing on several songs from Streisand’s long connection with musical theatre, further add to the ambience.
But for all that, the play remains as artificial as the mall in Barbra Streisand’s Malibu basement. Tolins’s creation is slight and, like the roleplaying version of Barbra we first meet, ever so slightly silly. But the true gem here is Rob Madge. Just as in an antique shop full of worthless knick-knacks, there often sits an item of genuine quality, Madge is the real deal at the heart of a play that is all about artifice.
Continues until 19 October 2024
