Edinburgh Festivals

Fringe 2001

It was Henry Fonda's Fault
Owen O'Neill

Munira Mirza

I briefly met Owen O'Neill outside the Assembly Rooms two years ago, as I was giving out leaflets to publicise an Institute of Ideas event at the Fringe.

I stopped him and without any idea who he was, asked him if he was in Edinburgh for the Festival. He smiled a charming Oirish smile and told me that in fact he was 'famous'. Struck by his utter approachability and casualness, I laughed and told him I didn't believe him.

Two years later, Owen O'Neill is performing his highly successful It was Henry Fonda's Fault following its sell-out success at the Traverse theatre on the Fringe last year. Despite the fact that he's a well known stand-up comedian (yes, I know I was ignorant) and he has performed worldwide with stints on Saturday Night Live, O'Neill still doesn't seem like a distant celebrity. In fact, he is so normal and likeable that I didn't even recognise him when I bumped into him again outside the loos, ten minutes before his show began.

It is his sincerity that makes It was Henry Fonda's Fault so thoroughly enjoyable. The caption to this autobiographical monologue about an ill-fated desire to succeed in Hollywood is 'Beware of what you dream of - it may just come true...'. Tired as that cliche may be, this production certainly is not. As a young boy, he explains how he befriended the aged Jazz Hegarty, a self-proclaimed 'stuntman for the stars' who is now a projectionist for the local cinema and spends his time waxing lyrical about the great Henry Fonda.

Inspired by the silver screen, O'Neill goes throughout life yearning to live the glamorous life of his cinematic heroes. When it is suggested that he take his successful monologue about alcoholism to LA, he jumps at the chance, only to discover that it's not all palm trees and suntans on the west coast...

O'Neill's experience as a stand-up guarantees this show is sparkling with gems of comedy, from being on the set of Hollywood blockbuster Michael Collins to performing in a dingy Hollywood theatre. However, what is more impressive is his ability to create credible characters of real warmth. Playing himself as a child, he reminds me of Stanley Laurel, snivelling and loveable at the same time. The relationship between Jazz and O'Neill is unsentimental but moving.

Perceptive and hilarious as this show is, the pathos of his broken dream does not teach you that to dream is dangerous, but instead makes you feel more determined that he should carry on. As he is kneeling, with spirit crushed, on Hollywood Boulevard, you feel like standing up at the end and shouting out, 'Don't give up, Owen, you're better than all those losers!'. If O'Neill continues to be this talented on TV and stage, he certainly needn't give up on his dreams just yet.