- Bette Davis and Joan Crawford were Hollywood’s hottest stars in the 30s, 40s and 50s.
- Both won awards, bedded leading men and took the movie industry by storm.
- But there was a problem: they hated one another. Then came the movie where they were cast together…
When Hollywood legend Bette Davis learned of the death of her long-time rival Joan Crawford in 1977, she famously remarked: “You should never say bad things about the dead, you should only say good ..Joan Crawford is dead. Good!”
It is a line that encapsulates one of Hollywood’s most enduring rivalries. Over four decades of professional jealousy, personal grievance, and the brutal realities of a studio system that thrived on pitting women against each other created the most bitter rivalries of all time.
Burge’s play leans heavily into the story. The feud, sparked, so legend goes, by the Franchot Tone incident in which one stole the other’s man, sharpened through competing studio contracts, and immortalised during the fraught production of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? provides rich material.
Yet rather than dramatise events in a conventional sense, this play unfolds as a series of direct-address monologues, with Davis and Crawford circling each other through memory, accusation and self-justification.
Jeanette Cronin and Lucia Mastrantone are well matched. Cronin, in particular, is compelling as the foul-mouthed, combative Davis, delivering lines with a rasping authority that captures both her ferocity and fragility. Mastrantone’s Crawford is cooler, more controlled—polished on the surface, but with flashes of steel beneath.
The production is stripped back, almost austere. On the small 220-seat stage, dressing rooms become battlegrounds. Behind them, black-and-white projections offer ghostly glimpses of their public selves – icons preserved in celluloid, in stark contrast to the bruised, ageing women before us. It’s an effective device, underscoring the central tragedy: lives lived for the spotlight, and the emptiness that follows when it fades.
There are moments of genuine bite. Davis snarls, “I play bitches because I am not a bitch,” while Crawford’s barbs land with icy precision. Elsewhere, the insults descend into outright savagery—“stupid bitch… fake in every department”—reminding us just how vicious this rivalry became. But herein lies a problem.
But the play depends on the precision of its dialogue. Every barb, every aside should have the audience wriggling in its seat. They are excruciating, yet compelling. But the Ensemble’s weak sound system often swallows up these lines. In a work where language is everything, losing even a fraction of that sharpness dulls the impact.
More significantly, Bette & Joan struggles to find its emotional footing. It is not quite funny enough to be entertaining, nor does it dig deeply enough to be moving. The women are presented as difficult, abrasive, and often deeply dislikeable. And while we glimpse their loneliness (both confessing, in different ways, that they dread leaving the studio to face empty homes), the production never quite earns our sympathy.
What emerges instead is a portrait not so much of rivalry, but of the damage stardom has done. Both women are casualties of an industry that prized youth, discarded experience, and forced its stars into perpetual competition. Their feud becomes less a source of fascination than a symptom of something larger and sadder: the cost of fame, and their addiction to it.
Davis said, “It’s better to be hated for who you are than to be loved for someone you’re not. It’s a sign of your worth sometimes, if you’re hated by the right people.” But we are never quite sure she means it.
By the end, the audience is left in an ambiguous space, admiring the performances but unsure what to feel. Pity never quite takes hold; nor does amusement. Perhaps that is the point. These were not easy women, nor were their lives easily resolved.
Still, one can’t help but feel that a sharper script, or simply clearer delivery might have allowed Burge’s best lines to truly land. As it stands, Bette & Joan offers glimpses of brilliance, but remains, like its subjects, caught somewhere between grandeur and disappointment.
FACT BOX
Where: Ensemble Theatre, 78 McDougall Street, Kirribilli NSW
When: March 20 – April 25, 2026
Running Time: Approx two hours, one interval.
Tickets:
From approx. $45–$95 (concessions and seniors available)
Bookings:
www.ensemble.com.au or (02) 9956 1060
Pre-theatre dining (nearby):
- Aqua Dining (Milsons Point): Upscale Italian with harbour views—perfect for a special night
- Fiore Bread (Kirribilli): Casual but excellent for a quick, quality bite
- The Botanist (Kirribilli): Stylish, relaxed modern Australian with a good wine list
- Kirribilli Club: Reliable bistro dining with one of the best views in Sydney
