When the curtain rose at London’s Arcola Theatre this February, audiences found themselves transported back to a time when the British tabloid press wielded unchecked power, and the private lives of celebrities were fair game for the most intrusive of journalistic tactics. The play responsible for this time travel, Monstering the Rocketman, is an award-winning, one-man show written and performed by Henry Naylor. It’s a theatrical retelling of one of Britain’s most notorious media battles: the late-1980s libel case between music legend Elton John and The Sun newspaper.
According to Pipeline Productions, the show’s run at the Arcola Theatre, which continues until February 21, 2026, marks its London premiere after a critically acclaimed, sold-out season at the 2025 Edinburgh Festival Fringe. The timing of this production feels especially pointed. As The Mail on Sunday faces a fresh round of high-profile privacy lawsuits—including those brought by Prince Harry, Elizabeth Hurley, Sadie Frost, and Elton John himself—the play’s exploration of press intrusion and celebrity privacy is as relevant as ever.
At its core, Monstering the Rocketman dramatizes the true story of how The Sun, under the editorship of Kelvin MacKenzie and ownership of Rupert Murdoch, launched a relentless, homophobic campaign against Elton John. The tabloid published unverified, lurid stories—most infamously accusing John of “sordid rent boy sex sessions”—and went to extraordinary lengths to dig up dirt. As reported by The Reviews Hub, these tactics included paying vulnerable teenagers for information, bugging hotel rooms, and even engaging in intercontinental stalking, all in pursuit of a negative headline.
Elton John, refusing to be cowed by the attacks, responded with a multi-million-pound libel lawsuit. The battle was fierce, but ultimately, the rock star emerged victorious: he was awarded £1 million in damages and received a rare front-page apology from The Sun. The case became a landmark in British media law, exposing the gutter-press mentality that prioritized sensationalism and profit over truth and decency.
Henry Naylor’s play approaches this saga from a unique angle. Rather than centering Elton John himself, the story is mostly told through the eyes of a rookie reporter nicknamed Lynx (after the deodorant he uses to mask the sweat of his ethically fraught trade). Lynx is desperate for a front-page byline but increasingly troubled by the dubious methods demanded by his editors. This narrative choice allows Naylor to probe the moral compromises that defined tabloid journalism in the pre-digital era—when stories were filed by fax, commuters all read the same headlines, and yesterday’s scandals quickly became today’s fish and chip wrappers.
As Broadway World notes, Naylor leaps energetically between a range of characters: from the green, ambitious Lynx, to the brash and unrepentant Kelvin MacKenzie, to nightclub bouncers, Elton’s mother, and even the superstar himself. The show’s direction, helmed by Darren Lee Cole, keeps the action moving at a brisk, sometimes breathless pace. Projections of historical Sun front pages and clippings—some of them shockingly homophobic—provide visual evidence of the play’s historical accuracy and deliver its most impactful moments.
Yet, for all its strengths, the production has not been without criticism. Reviewers, including those at London Theatre Reviews, have found the writing uneven and the performance occasionally under-rehearsed. Naylor’s portrayal of multiple characters, while clear, sometimes lacks emotional range, and his attempts to embody Elton John have been described as more caricature than character. One reviewer observed, “Though there is an undeniable charm to Naylor as a performer, this particular performance didn’t showcase him at his best, with repeated stumbling on lines making it feel extremely under-rehearsed.”
The play’s structure has also come under scrutiny. Some critics argue that Monstering the Rocketman struggles to decide whether it wants to be a story about Elton John, the rookie journalist, the culture of 1980s journalism, or something broader. Themes of homophobia in the media and the AIDS crisis are introduced but, in the view of several critics, not fully developed. “These are seeds that should have been planted,” one reviewer lamented, wishing for a deeper exploration of the media’s role in perpetuating prejudice and misinformation.
Technical aspects of the production have further complicated its reception. The use of projections—while impactful for some—was marred by obstructed views for others, depending on their seat in the Arcola’s three-sided setup. A lack of sound design and inconsistent use of the intimate space left portions of the audience straining to hear whispered lines. The costuming, too, left some confused: was the untucked shirt and trainers a creative choice for the frazzled journalist, or simply a reflection of the actor’s own state?
Despite these flaws, the play’s central message resonates. Monstering the Rocketman offers a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked media power and the personal toll of tabloid cruelty. The show draws explicit parallels between the press culture of the 1980s and today’s world of misinformation and social media, suggesting that while technology may have changed, the underlying issues of privacy invasion and sensationalism remain stubbornly persistent.
For those interested in the history of British journalism, the evolution of celebrity privacy, or the ongoing battles over media ethics, Naylor’s play is both a trip down memory lane and a timely warning. The inclusion of projections of Sun headlines—some so egregious that they still shock today—serves as a stark reminder of how far the press was willing to go, and how hard-won Elton John’s victory truly was.
As the current lawsuits against The Mail on Sunday unfold, Monstering the Rocketman reminds us that the fight for privacy and dignity in public life is far from over. The play may not be perfect, but its story is one that demands to be told—and remembered.