An assured and thoughtful new musical that succeeds not by reinventing its story, but by choosing carefully where to stand within it.
Beautiful Little Fool at Southwark Playhouse Borough is an assured and thoughtful new musical that succeeds not by reinventing its story, but by choosing carefully where to stand within it.
At its core, this is a retelling of Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s marriage, a narrative that theatre and literature have returned to many times. What distinguishes this production is its framing. Rather than centring the familiar myth of the male literary genius, the story is filtered largely through Zelda’s perspective, with her daughter Scottie acting as both narrator and emotional anchor. This choice allows the audience to approach Zelda not as a footnote to someone else’s career, but as an artist, a mother, and a woman gradually stripped of agency.
Musically, the show is impressively coherent. The score flows naturally from scene to scene, and the interaction between the cast and the live band is well judged. Songs are placed with a clear sense of narrative purpose, and the musicians feel integrated into the dramatic world rather than added as accompaniment. That said, the score occasionally leans too heavily on lyrical repetition. While repetition can be effective in expressing emotional fixation, here it sometimes slows narrative momentum. A few numbers would benefit from clearer musical peaks rather than extended emotional circling.
The design work makes excellent use of the space. The set is flexible and responsive, allowing scenes to shift smoothly across different physical levels without disrupting the pacing. Lighting plays a key role in shaping atmosphere, particularly through the contrast between cool blues and warmer orange tones, which mark emotional and temporal shifts. Costume design is similarly thoughtful, especially in the visual dialogue between mother and daughter. These details quietly reinforce character relationships without feeling overstated.
One of the production’s strengths lies in its historical specificity. References to the Fitzgeralds’ financial difficulties, literary rivalries, and the cultural milieu of the Jazz Age feel well researched and purposeful. Most effective is the sustained attention given to Zelda’s loss of authorship. The gradual loss of her creative ownership is treated not as a single injustice, but as a process, which gives weight and credibility to her growing frustration.
The portrayal of Zelda’s mental health, and of institutional attitudes toward women at the time, marks the emotional turning point of the show. When this material is finally confronted head on, through an intense and explosive sequence mediated by Scottie’s narration, the musical’s thematic concerns come into sharp focus.
Amy Parker, covering the role of Zelda, brings a lightness of voice and physical grace that suits the character’s early optimism, while allowing space for darker shifts later on. Lauren Ward’s performance as Scottie is a particular highlight. Her delivery is clear, grounded, and emotionally intelligent, giving the production its sense of balance and perspective.
The final moments return unapologetically to the marriage itself. I found this choice effective. Rather than simplifying Zelda’s feelings, the show allows love and damage to coexist, acknowledging that emotional attachment does not disappear simply because it is undeserved.
What ultimately convinced me was how little the show let go of me, even where it was imperfect. I noticed moments where the music lingered longer than it needed to, but I never felt pushed out of the story. Instead, I stayed emotionally with Zelda, particularly in how the production holds love and damage side by side without trying to resolve them. That honesty, and the confidence to trust the audience with it, mattered more to me than polish. For all its small rough edges, this felt like a complete piece of theatre, and one I kept thinking about afterwards.