Ava: The Secret Conversations

Photo Credit: Mirvish Productions

Moritz von Stuelpnagel’s unique adaptation of Peter Evans’ Ava: The Secret Conversations showcased the cast’s acting prowess and quirks of joy and humour. However, the production fell short, as it lacked depth in characterization, featuring inadequate prop choices, and disregarded basic theatre etiquette.

From 1988 to 1990, Ava Gardner, an icon of the Golden Age of Hollywood, participated in several interviews with the journalist Peter Evans with the intention of publishing an autobiography.

In this play, their collaboration travels through time, as the narrative oscillates between Gardner’s shallow recount of her relationships with Mickey Rooney, Artie Shaw, and Frank Sinatra, as well as her time with Howard Hughes and the 50+ films that defined her career. While Gardner and Evans ultimately abandoned the product due to a worsened relationship, Evans later collected his notes and transcripts of those interviews and published his book twenty-five years later to astonishingly positive reviews.

Evidently, Gardner’s real life was colourful and storied. Ava reflects this with its eye-catching performances and visuals. McGovern’s script is witty,her physicality is explosive, and her laugh as Gardner is infectious. It is evident that McGovern holds a deep love for Gardner and wanted to create a piece of art that continues her legacy.

Thus, it is a shame that Stuelpnagel’s depiction reduced her down to crass jokes and overcomplicated drama, transforming a Hollywood legend into a caricature. Namely, this production focused on the salacious details of Gardner’s sex life, overshadowing her actual legacy. At best, this can be considered a miscalculation from Stuelpnagel; at worst, this is an insult to Gardner’s accomplishments and reflects the worrying perception of women in the media, even now.

Overall, the production’s rapid timeline stripped away any potential from the characters, as the rushed transitions cut down the characters before they even get the chance to develop. Stuelpnagel attempted multiple portrayals of Gardner and Evans, switching between their characters’ present-day selves and past impersonations. However, this chaos only caused a sense of mass confusion, especially as the visual projection offered no clarification. Of course, the mixed-media use of real-life archival film footage is novel, especially considering how Gardner’s life was intertwined with the silver screen. Still, the film suffered from technical constraints, as the images were distorted when cast on the textured walls.

Similarly, the Scenic Designer David Meyer’s set design attempted to evoke the glamorous, ostentatious, and girly atmosphere of Gardner’s flat, but failed in execution due to disproportionate scaling. When Costa Ganis lay on the bed, his legs from the knees down dangled awkwardly off the edge, visually undermining any sense of luxury or authenticity. Compounding this issue, the props remained static and untouched until moments before the performance ended, creating a sterile environment that contradicts the intimate, lived-in space the production was attempting to portray.

Lighting served as the primary device for distinguishing between time periods, with sudden shifts meant to illuminate different shades and atmospheres. Unfortunately, the similarity between these shades rendered the technique largely ineffective. Lighting Designer Amith Chandrashaker’s choice to represent Gardner’s and Evan’s separate flats through spotlighting two distinct areas of the state created further perplexity.

Most egregiously, Stuelpnagel’s blocking left McGovern and Costa Ganus frequently turning their backs to the audience, a fundamental violation of theatrical convention. I recall that, once during a drama class, my teacher faced away from our class and asked if we could see her facial expressions. Well, watching this disengaging staging choice in action, I finally understood my teacher’s lesson. It seems like Stuelpnagel prioritized the actors’ chemistry to the point that the actors were consistently angling their bodies inward, away from the audience. I’m sure my fellow audience members from that day would agree, as many people sitting near me had to crane their necks to catch a glimpse of the production they bought tickets for.

Yet, beyond the set, Costume Designer Toni-Leslie James made some incredibly bold design choices. Having McGovern perform most of the play barefoot, only slipping into heels in the final moments, was remarkably effective in its symbolism, as it reflected Gardner’s impoverished origins and maintained a connection to her childhood. Underneath all the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, there remained a part of Gardner deeply rooted to the Earth, exposing her vulnerability in an unexpected way

Conversely, the abundance of pretentious costume changes—approximately seven throughout the production—captured the newfound wealth of Gardner’s life and provided glamorous visuals to different phases of her life. Through the costumes, the audience is treated to Gardner as the femme fatale, the socialite, and the fading star. In contrast, Costa Ganis remained in a single grey suit for the duration of the performance, an intentionally one-dimensional costume choice that effectively established the hierarchical difference between Hollywood royalty and the journalist, as well as the ubiquitous nature of the media.

Moreover, McGovern’s vocal work was the production’s greatest asset. Her dedicated North Carolina and Virginian accent comedically embodied a crucial aspect of Gardner’s character. McGovern’s accent can be considered melodramatic, especially when compared to Gardner’s actual accent. Yet, as a performance for a stage, McGovern’s emphasized Southern drawl creates a distinctive and memorable portrayal. As the narrative moved through different decades, McGovern’s vocal performance shifted seamlessly along with it. From the girlish lilt of a young Ava into the hoarse rasp of Gardner’s later years, each transition reminds the audience of the harsh passage of time.

Beyond the accent, McGovern’s hysterically histrionic laugh, combined with her effervescent overuse of profanity, captured Gardner’s irreverent charm. Yet, simultaneously, McGovern used laughter as a defensive mechanism to deflect awkwardness in her conversation with Peter. This duality revealed a rare moment of nuance and vulnerability in this production.

Ava: The Secret Conversations is ultimately an unrefined paradox. McGovern’s costuming and vocal work offer glimpses into a more thoughtful portrayal. Yet, these moments are undermined by fundamental theatrical missteps like unclear staging and ill-executed technical components.

Audiences seeking a glimpse into Old Hollywood’s most captivating figures will only exit Ava feeling deflated. After all, Gardner’s real life (and her fraught relationship with her biographer) was fascinating; it deserves a production that matches its dramatic potential.