Grey Gardens is the name of the mesmerising 1975 documentary directed by Ellen Hovde, Marion ‘Muffie’ Meyer and the brothers, Albert and David Maysles (and, yes, I’m leading with Hovde and Meyer, because their names always seem to get left out when the film is discussed, just as Charlotte Zwerin’s is when Gimme Shelter – another landmark Maysles project – is cited. No idea why that could be, of course…)
The documentary tells the absolutely riveting tale of the two Edies – Big and Little Edie Bouvier Beale, aunt and cousin to Jacqueline Kennedy, who lived in the sprawling East Hampton mansion of the same name. Originally wealthy socialites, the pair wound up impoverished, living together in an increasingly dilapidated stinking mansion filled with cats, rubbish and raccoons.
Their cloistered and claustrophobic existence was marked by a co-dependent relationship, fascinating to watch and brilliantly captured by the documentary. Indeed, the story was so striking it later inspired a 2006 stage musical and a 2009 TV movie starring Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange.
Do you need to have seen any of these to understand what’s going on in House of Rot – a so-called ‘cabaret invocation’? Perhaps not. But just like that Marilyn Monroe quote from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes ‘my goodness, doesn’t it help?’; an awareness of the source material certainly enhances the experience.
House of Rot – quick links
House of Rot: part elegy in heels
There is very little talking in House of Rot, just the odd line, referencing or quoting the Bouvier Beales – as does the occasional slice of text projected onto the scrim.
The text, such as it is, is usually left-field, quirky and seemingly unrelated to anything of any great import. But it adds colour and context to the heart of the show – the music.
Described as ‘part communion, part elegy in heels’, House of Rot focuses on one element of the Edies’ existence – their predilection for singing and dancing around the house. Expanding on their love of Broadway tunes, the show is a melting pot of a song cycle, created and directed by Dino Dimitriadis and musical director Victoria Falconer to include numbers as seemingly disparate, but perfectly appropriate, as Two for Tea, Windmills of Your Mind (which is performed by Falconer and bookends the production) and I’ll Be Your Mirror.
While also selected to show off the vocal talents of the cast, the songs, staging and show itself are all about the relationship between Big (Paul Capsis) and Little (Adam Noviello).
House of Rot: Adam Noviello
The set is simple: seven simple black chairs, lined up at the front of the stage, facing the audience and individually spotlit. With this one device, the production is able to intimate a larger presence – a society residence, home to grand parties and multiple occupants, reduced to two utterly entwined characters, with its more luxurious fixtures and fittings sold off to survive.
It’s droll, quirky, queer and captivating.
House of Rot: Paul Capsis
Paul Capsis is, or should be, a national treasure. From his early cabaret days and uncanny impersonations of the likes of Shirley Bassey, Tina Turner and Judy Garland (I still swear he didn’t just mimic Janis Joplin, but merely opened some surreal kind of spiritual channel to allow her to revisit us) to his standout roles in theatre and film, he’s been one of a kind. He’s a performer you simply can’t take your eyes off on stage, because he’s simply not like anyone else and you never know quite what he’ll do next.
So to say that he makes Big a kooky, flawed and fascinating character should be no surprise to anyone. The interesting thing is how Capsis’ voice has deepened and taken on whole different layers of colour and history now that he’s in his sixties.
His tone is now drenched in life experience, which is perfect for an evocation of Big of course. And it seems only fitting that House of Rot includes a nod to Capsis’ familiar skills with a scorching rendition of Cry Baby, which has a whole different meaning in this context.
On the other hand, there is Noviello. Look, I’m not sure where I’ve been for the last four years (the performer’s debut single made quite the splash in 2022 it appears), but the nonbinary singer/songwriter/actor has not crossed my radar previously, despite being described by well-known local queer singer Mama Alto as ‘the long-lost love child of Troye Sivan and Lady Gaga’ and named as ‘a queer artist to discover before they blow up’ by Triple J.
Well, it’s fair to say they should consider themself discovered. For this reviewer, it must be the most arresting introduction to a performer since unwittingly witnessing the one and only Reuben Kaye on a Pride cruise ship several years ago.
Noviello’s singing is silky smooth but undeniably powerful, and the whole package – with a long sinuous frame, which moves as fluidly as the voice – is quite the image. It doesn’t get more show-stopping than a slowed down version of I Touch Myself sung and played while seated at the piano in the nude.
Talking of impact, it’s also hard to go past a duet mash-up of Send in the Clowns and Zombie. I don’t know whose wild idea it was to bring those two numbers together, but it’s surely a first – and an unforgettable one.
House of Rot is at the Merlyn Theatre, Malthouse, Melbourne until 20 June 2026.
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