I have great fondness for this stylish and heartfelt one-act, having caught it at the 2022 Toronto Fringe Festival (my review). Presenting a limited run of Joan & Olivia: A Hollywood Ghost Story at The Assembly Theatre, Ebb & Flow Theatre is oiling the show’s gears for the 2024 Edmonton Fringe this August.
Old Hollywood legends, Joan Fontaine (Georgia Findlay) and Olivia De Havilland (Emma Nelles), continue their iconic feud, trapped together as ghosts in their childhood home. As two young women, Molly (Crystal Casera) and Celeste (Olivia Cameron), struggle through their own sibling rivalry while occupying their famous predecessors’ adjacent bedrooms, Joan and Olivia hover over their protégées and pass down their dysfunction in the guise of maternal nurturing.
Tension mounts as each set of sisters negotiate the turbulent waters of genuine affection tainted by insecurities, egos and resentments. The story juxtaposes the elegant feminine posturing of the iconic duo’s studio personae with the contemporary vocabulary and rhythms of their young charges. The whole set-up is kind of hokey, purposely so, but the emotions that rise to the surface are sincere.
To quote myself: “Georgia Findlay’s script is a real crackerjack.” And my appreciation for it has only increased with familiarity. The dialogue is crisp and clever, finding humour in the generational divide of sensibilities yet ultimately conveying the tenacity of our inherent human foibles. Findlay weaves in some text from the pair’s most famous films. And the thematic importance of the monologue from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Olivia is coaching Celeste for an acting school audition) really struck me this time: Helena’s plaintive ode to female friendship after a perceived betrayal is a resonant echo.
The self-aware nods are also cute and wisely sparing. The cheeky poke at the mid-Atlantic accent is a favourite of mine.
Epitomized by the contrasting red and blue of their dresses and beds, dichotomies abound. The core image for the show, placed upstage centre, is a portrait of Fontaine and De Havilland locked in a dubious facade of sisterly solidarity. One of the many highly stylized flourishes of director Matt Eger’s assured staging is the eerie way Findlay and Nelle’s Joan and Olivia take their places as an embodiment of this portrait.
Every aspect of Findlay and Nelle’s dynamic is keenly observed—purposely mannered in that 1940s mode, but never slipping into parody. In both their catty banter and the deeply repressed admiration they can’t quite allow themselves to express, they charge the air around them. Mirroring them, Casera and Cameron, in a more naturalistic representation, compliment their counterparts. There is a significant time jump during the play that catapults them from adolescence to early adulthood and their nuanced rendering of subtle shifts in demeanour sell the authenticity.
The chilling final note, hinting at a perpetual cycle of dysfunction, feels like a nod to The Twilight Zone. Though the production is as thrifty as Fringe demands, the compelling material and execution is on par with the dark, playful symmetry of Rod Serling’s oeuvre.


