President Lyndon
B. Johnson of Texas is known for escalating the Vietnam War in the sixties. All the Way shows us Johnson before that, when he recognized
that he would make his mark by ushering in the Civil Rights Act of 1964 with
Martin Luther King, Jr. (movingly played by Brandon J. Dirden, who does an exact
rendering of MLK’s voice). Robert
Schenkkan’s play is prescient, as a discriminatory voter suppression law in Wisconsin was just this week struck
down as unconstitutional.
Bryan
Cranston’s LBJ is a non-stop powerhouse of stories, craft, and passion. Cranston gives a master class in how to pull strings, wheedle your
way with detractors, stab people in the back (Johnson would not congratulate MLK on
his Nobel Peace Prize), and gloat over any tiny victory. With his sincere
Midwestern VP, Hubert H. Humphrey (superbly acted by Robert Petkoff), they made
a formidable pair. Betsey Aidem is super as Katharine Graham and does as much
as she can with the oddly retro role of Lady Bird. Rob Campbell and Richard Poe
do those rapscallians, George Wallace and Everett Dirksen, to the hilt. William
Jackson Harper is a standout as Stokely Carmichael.
Like
the strong cast, the set and staging are marvelous. Within Senate-like seating,
often occupied by the players keeping watch, a small stage works marvels,
including chillingly exhuming the body of a civil rights worker murdered in the
Mississippi Burning, against a Johnson campaign speech. While other theatrical
productions have used video to tell the story, this time it really works, with live
performance feeds and archival footage, including Johnson’s swearing in on Air
Force One.
All the Way is part one of
a trilogy that Robert Schenkkan is perfecting at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. We’re looking forward to part two. All
the Way shows a leader
revealing his mind and soul. It’s not a criticism, but the ending reminded us
of an equally ambitious history play last season about Ann Richards, Ann by Holland Taylor. At the end,
Taylor stands at the edge of the stage and delivers her last, deeply personal
story of the night. It was a delicious nightcap that sent the audience out in
tears after thunderous applause. Cranston’s version of that, delivered with
remarkably realistic tears, left the audience cheering wildly, however dry-eyed. But
then Robert Caro, too, has had a hard time wrapping up the story of LBJ.
 |
| Memphis ribs at Justin Timberlake's |
You’d expect a
suave, swank product out of the artist who gave us “Suit and Tie,” but Justin
Timberlake’s rustic restaurant reveals his Texas roots. The signature drink is
a refreshing tequila cocktail called the 901, the area code of Memphis, with
muddled mint, raspberry and agave. If you like meat, you will love the main
course: spareribs brushed with smoky BBQ sauce or dry-rubbed. One of the sides
is mac and cheese and another collard greens—clearly very fresh collard greens
but overly seasoned. With all the strong flavors in the rest of the meal, greens
could be served on the bland side. Chopped salads and the desserts
(especially Grandma Sadie’s bourbon pecan pie) looked great at a distance.
Southern
Hospitality began on the Upper East Side, but found its true following when it moved to Hell’s Kitchen. It’s packed out with a young
business crowd every weekday at lunch and, particularly, on weekends for a brunch
that includes limitless bellinis and mimosas for $15. A bluegrass band plays on
Sundays. We expected to hear Justin Timberlake on the soundtrack, but didn’t.
Timberlake doesn’t want to hear his own music at his restaurant. That’s how
cool he is. Words lining the room are taken from a jam session at Sun Record
Studios in Memphis in 1956, with Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis,
Carl Perkins, and Johnny Cash. Manager Josh Livesay, pictured, impressed upon
us how genuine the whole enterprise is, recommended the fabulous dry-rubbed ribs, and said the cornbread is extraordinary.
