“A dark satire of the Hollywood studio system, Screen Test is an absurdly witty burlesque in which the revelation is not skin but an ever increasing roster of physical comedy and hilarious character acting.”
An unhinged portrayal of a 1930s starlet with the energy of a squirrel on amphetamine, Screen Test’s protagonist Betsy Bitterly hurtles at you for over an hour of cutting satire and irreverence.
Following on from writer/performer Bebe Cave’s run in Edinburgh at the Fringe, Screen Test is her solo debut. She successfully utilises the conceit of a young actress trying to make it big in the Golden Age of Hollywood to satirise the unrealistic expectations placed on women in a misogynistic industry.
This is a one-woman show that sees her mold herself in more desperate ways to achieve stardom- comedy being used to excellent effect to pass commentary on mature themes such as death, childhood trauma, mental health and your husband only communicating to you in scat slang.
With her powder blue eyeshadow and blood-red lips, she resembles Jean Harlow with long Shirley Temple curls, spliced with the staccato transatlantic accent of Katherine Hepburn.
I was sat in the front row and had the dubious honour to have been chosen as an enemy of Bitterly, who frequently rewarded me by sticking up her middle figure at opportune moments. Other audience members were encouraged to throw roses and applaud on cue, or shush whilst Bitterly awaited that all-important casting call.
The Seven Dials Playhouse is a tiny jewellery box of a studio theatre, allowing Cave’s talents to shine like a sparkly vintage necklace. Quip after quip, shimmy after shimmy, character impression after character impression- there was no escape from her antics. There could perhaps have been time for a breather, sometimes the gags didn’t land because there were so many to process before the next one came along.
What stood out to me though, was how much Cave herself loved performing the show and feeding off the audience energy. The chaos of the characterisations were balanced by the sharp writing and subtle references to modern life. Cave had to compose herself a few times because the farce of the punchline occasionally got to her, which only made her portrayal of the tragicomic Bitterly even more endearing. She has clearly put a great deal of thought into how to use humour to demonstrate sexist tropes in showbusiness and you can’t help but root for her as she bounces around like a one-woman pantomime on acid. A riot of physicality and expressive, nuanced wit- not a bad way to spend 60 minutes.