Write about kings and queens, urged Aristotle, and since celebrities are the closest thing we have to royalty (in the USA), it stands to reason that countless plays will be written about them. The latest example is Jackie Unveiled, Tom Dugan’s solo show about Jackie Kennedy, starring Saffron (“Mozart in the Jungle”) Burrows, directed by Jenny Sullivan. Now premiering at The Wallis before setting off on tour, Dugan’s latest work—following on the heels of Wiesenthal depicts a big chunk of Jackie’s life, commencing in 1968 when Jackie, still recovering from the assassination of JFK, must now cope with the news that her late husband’s brother Robert has been shot and killed. As Dugan reveals, beneath the cool, chic image she projected, Jackie was an insecure bundle of nerves and fear. She had to fight to hold herself together, reinforced by nicotine and alcohol. The dramatic question explored in Act One is whether grief and loss will drive her to commit suicide. Burrows, tricked out in a bouffant wig and tailored pajamas, manages to make us believe she is Jackie (though her strange, strangled accent is a liability). Early on, we learn about her upbringing, especially the impact of her nasty, disapproving mother and father. With parents like that, it’s no wonder that Jackie was a psychological mess, a deeply neurotic and needy woman. But she was also smart and beautiful, qualities that attracted JFK and resulted in their marriage. It was a glamorous, famous marriage that helped create the Camelot legend, only to have it shatter when JFK was gunned down in Dallas. Burrows recreates that event, makes us feel its horror and pain, but as Jackie she has no opinion on whether the murder was part of a conspiracy. Same goes for Bobby’s death; she simply relates its details but doesn’t try to analyze it. Act Two gives us a different Jackie. It’s fourteen years later, and now the big question is whether her cancer test results are positive or negative. Still sneaking smokes and scotch, she pads about her elegant Fifth Avenue apartment (kudos to set designer Francois-Pierre Couture) talking about her children, the Kennedy brothers (and Papa Joe), her puzzling marriage to Aristotle Onassis, her work as a book editor, and so on. One of the problems with Jackie Unvelied is that it covers too much ground, wobbles rather than drives to a dramatic conclusion. At the same time, Dugan’s portrait of Jackie is touching and powerful, even tragic. The playwright also has a few secrets up his sleeve: namely that Jackie slept with Bobby after JFK’s death—and that she once caught the clap from her notoriously randy husband. Juicy bits like that, plus Burrows’s vibrant performance, make Jackie Unveiled worth seeing.
