The Code with Tracie Bennett and John Partridge at Southwark Playhouse Elephant – review

Set in 1950s Hollywood, The Code is a dazzling, unsettling triumph that peels back the glittering façade of Tinseltown to reveal a rotten core. Written by the brilliant Michael McKeever and directed by the visionary Christopher Renshaw, the play skewers the Hays Code – otherwise known as the so-called “code of decency” – that demanded America’s sweethearts sparkle on screen while hiding their sexuality off it. The result is a production that feels both period-perfect and unnervingly current.

Tracie Bennett, as Tallulah Bankhead, sets the stage as she stomps on, leaving behind her a trail of cigarette smoke, Bette Davis theatrics, and razor-edged one-liners. Poised to always look as if she’s teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown, she is wickedly funny, endlessly charismatic, and capable of breaking an audience’s heart in a single line. Her entrance sets the bar sky high, and she keeps it there with a performance that proves (if proof were ever needed) that she is one of the finest theatre actresses working today. Credit too to her immaculate makeup, which makes her look as if she’d just stepped straight off the set of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, screeching “Blanche!”. But while Bennett dazzles, the evening belongs to everyone. Each actor rises to meet her, creating a true ensemble piece where brilliance is evenly shared across the stage.

John Partridge is compelling as Billy Haines, a man forced to live within the suffocating confines of the Hollywood code. His performance captures both the wit and resilience of a star who refuses to bend entirely, yet remains a byproduct of a perverse system that punishes authenticity.

By contrast, Nick Blakeley’s Henry Willson is equally as gripping, delivering a masterful portrayal of a man whose charm curdles into cruelty. His performance is as brilliant as it is horrible, exposing the ugly compromises demanded of Hollywood stars who lived and loved outside the code. It’s a turn that exposes the predator nature of Hollywood itself: like a peach that looks juicy and perfect, until you turn it and find it crawling with maggots.

Solomon Davy as Chad Manford is one to watch: fresh, talented, and clearly learning from the best around him, he shifts from light-hearted ingénue to something far more complex with impressive ease.

McKeever’s writing is quick-witted and sharp, the dialogue snapping like a beating pulse. There are laugh-out-loud moments, but they come edged with acid. Beneath the wit is rage, at the hypocrisy of a system that destroyed lives to preserve an illusion of decency.

The design team frame the drama with elegance. Ethan Cheek’s set and costumes evoke 1950s Hollywood glamour and dapper sheen without ever lapsing into caricature. Jack Weir’s lighting sculpts the stage, shifting from dazzling spotlights to creeping shadows, while Yvonne Gilbert’s sound design deepens the atmosphere without intruding. Together, they create a world that feels glossy on the surface and rotten underneath, just as the play demands.

The Code is more than a stylish period piece. It is a sharp, funny, and creeping reminder that behind every perfect Hollywood smile may lie a silenced truth. With Bennett’s powerhouse performance at its core, and a cast who rise to match her, this is not just one of the best plays of the year, it is essential and exciting theatre.