253. ALL THE WAY
Full disclosure: much as I wish I had, I’ve
never seen an episode of the hit TV show “Breaking Bad,” which made Bryan
Cranston into a superstar, although I’ve seen him in a movie role or two. Mr.
Cranston is now giving Broadway a look at his live acting chops in what has
been widely hailed as a brilliant portrayal of President Lyndon Baines Johnson
in Robert Schenkkan’s ALL THE WAY, at the Neil Simon Theatre (after a run at
Cambridge’s American Repertory Theatre). Mr. Cranston is clearly a strong actor
and holds the stage with dynamic energy for the greater part of the two hour 45
minute production; however, the nature of the writing and staging of a play that
attempts to cover all the often devious political machinations behind Johnson’s
ramming through his landmark 1964 Civil Rights bill require a kind of bravura
performance that ultimately results more in appreciation of the actor’s
commanding technique than full belief in the character he’s embodying. It’s the
kind of role that requires a deep-fried Texas accent, a passel of identifiable gestures, and enough shouting to call the cattle home. He also uses
prosthetic ears, high-waisted slacks, and two-inch heels (Johnson was 6 feet 3
inches tall). Many (not all, thankfully) of the actors on stage with Mr. Cranston are similarly big
but, given the amount of detailed information being covered and the need to
hold the audience’s interest for so long a time, it seems that anything more subtle
might have stampeded the audience at intermission.
Bryan Cranston, Michael McKean, Stephen Vinovich. Photo: Evgenia Eliseeva.
The
Broadway stage, unlike the movies, often has to exaggerate to get its points
across. If you consider the recent movie, LINCOLN, about another president’s
fight with Congress, you’ll see how often quiet scenes are balanced by more
overtly dramatic ones. There are few quiet scenes in ALL THE WAY, and even when
they do appear they’re quickly gobbled up by the next big crisis or diatribe. Still,
despite its length and the amount of historical material one must digest, the
play is often engrossing and its production impressive.
With
JFK having been assassinated in November 1963, LBJ is his at first reluctant
successor. He soon finds his bearing in determining how he’ll make his mark in
the nation’s highest office. He’ll seek to pass a landmark Civil Rights bill,
and also engage in a war on poverty. Meanwhile, the Vietnam War is heating up
and, under prodding from Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara (James Eckhouse),
serious decisions have to be made. The 1964 election looms less than a
year away, and, as the action progresses, we see titles projected telling us of
how many months are left, intensifying the pressure. Johnson, using (and
abusing) Sen. Hubert Humphrey (Robert Petkoff) as his principal defender, is
fighting to get his policies enacted as the clock ticks toward the Democratic
convention and then the election itself (opposite Barry Goldwater), and he’s
obstructed at every turn by the racist Southern Democrats, led by Rep. Richard
Russell (a suitably unctuous John McMartin), and various black civil rights
leaders, such as the Rev. Martin Luther King (Brandon J. Dirden, a pale reflection) and the fiery Stokely
Carmichael (William Jackson Harper), each with their own agenda. The murders of
young civil rights workers James Earl Chaney, Michael Goodman, and Andrew
Schwerner in Mississippi create a crisis, and, among other tension-producing developments,
there's the issue of J. Edgar Hoover’s (Michael McKean, nicely restrained)
spying on civil rights activists and LBJ himself. (The relationship
between Hoover’s surveillance and today’s NSA activities was the subject of a
scathing attack just yesterday by Senator Rand Paul.)
There
are occasional longeurs in this fact-filled drama, but there’s also enough life
to sustain most of it. Still, so many of the once-familiar politicians taking
part in the story are now forgotten that it seems only an audience of seniors
with some knowledge of who these people were might find much interest here, although Mr. Schenkkan does his best to telegraph at least an idea of
their importance. It’s always fun to learn more about what the people that run
our country are like in private; Mr. Schenkkan offers a colorful picture of the
big-eared 36th president that shows him as a volatile, foulmouthed leader, with
a penchant for vulgar anecdotes that support his political points, yet we also
see what a cunning operator he was, how capably he could twist people into
doing his bidding by the sometimes sly, sometimes bullying way he handled his considerable powers, and how
ruthless he could be to get his way.
Late
in the play, LBJ directly addresses the audience about what they’ve been
watching and asks, “Did it make you feel a little squeamish?” Only those who
have their head in the clouds would not already know instinctively that this is
how things work in the corridors of power; nevertheless, seeing it enacted before
your eyes has a kick of its own. Making this particular X-ray of our recent
political past even more disgusting is the depiction of the unapologetically prejudiced
attitudes of our elected leaders only half a century ago, when Jim Crow still
ruled the South.
ALL THE WAY is
given a rather elaborate production under Bill Rauch’s smooth direction, with
two dozen actors, many of them playing multiple roles. Deborah M. Dryden’s period
costumes and Paul Huntley’s wigs do yeoman service in taking us back in time
and differentiating one character from another. Christopher Acebo’s set
resembles a semicircular Congressional arena of wooden desks, behind which a
large screen allows for many still and video projections, excellently created
by Shawn Sagady to establish the varying locations. The bulk of the action
transpires in the well at center, often with Johnson at his desk speaking by
phone to various politicos seated around him.
Things have changed
a lot since 1964, in the South as well as elsewhere, but the parallels of 1964 with
American life in 2014 can't be denied, whether it be issues of race, poverty,
war, surveillance, backroom political deals, perceived sexual misconduct, and
so on. ALL THE WAY (“with LBJ,” Johnson’s election slogan), reminds us of this
in an episodic drama, part history lesson, part exposé, part
biodrama. Despite its broadly depicted characters, often simplistic
storytelling, considerable length, and occasional overacting, most theatergoers
should be able to go a good deal of the way, if not all of it, with this one.
