Yes, that's right, we're talking Monroe and Fitzgerald. Bonnie Greer's guaranteed crowd-pleaser of a two-hander takes as its theme the true story of the unlikely friendship between these legendary 20th century women and uses it as an excuse to shoehorn in the potted greatest hits of both.

All that's missing is a birthday serenade to a president, which is excusable given that the year is only 1955.

This isn't the most insightful thing that's ever been written about either the actress/icon or the singer, and there are certainly times when it would behove Greer to dig deeper into her subject material rather than scratch around on the surface.

Nonetheless, her central thesis is a strong one: Marilyn and Ella, although hugely successful, are both feeling frustrated at this point in their careers, not least because other people's constructs of them are in great danger of overwhelming the reality.

In an impressionistic first half, the pair are kept firmly apart, with Ella on a raised platform behind a gauze screen and Marilyn writhing all over a white chaise longue at stage level.

Through alternating monologues, we learn what is stopping them from being taken as seriously as they would like: segregation and sex appeal.

Ella is held back by the 'whites-only' policy that prevails at prestigious nightclubs such as the Mocambo in Hollywood; Marilyn wants to be considered for the sort of film that doesn't employ wind machines near her skirt.

It's a relief for everyone when Marilyn wangles Ella a gig at the Mocambo, as it means the second half of Colin McFarlane's nippy production offers both dialogue and a chance for the honey-voiced Nicola Hughes to let rip on those Fitzgerald standards.

Not that we've been short-changed on sassy one-liners up to this point: "Lassie the dog makes more than me, and I talk," notes Marilyn wryly.

Wendy Morgan seems too old for a 29-year-old Monroe, although she captures those famous breathy tones beautifully and wears a variety of tight white garments to perfection.

Amusingly, when at last confronted with her heroine Ella, her voice and bearing regress until she is nothing more than a starstruck little girl. Ella must have it good, she thinks. Marilyn must have it perfect, thinks Ella. Greer has given us a decent idea of why this is very far from the truth.

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