Before the curtain went up on “All The Way,” my companion passed on to me a question that was being whispered up and down our aisle. “Who was Lyndon Johnson’s Vice President?” I answered without thinking “Hubert Humphrey.” That’s when a lot of the play came into focus for me. People either hadn’t lived through the era being covered, or they didn’t really remember it very well. For those of us who came of age during the days of the Kennedy assassination and the Vietnam War, the events and the pivotal people in power are burned into our consciousness.
Yes, it’s true that Bryan Cranston doesn’t actually resemble LBJ physically, nor does he have the sheer, overwhelmingly dynamic presence of the 36th President. But what he does possess is a profound understanding of the complexity of this paradoxical individual, who could be deeply compassionate, totally insensitive, tender, cruel, megalomaniacal, and heartbreaking insecure all within the space of a moment.
But is Cranston’s ability to convey the many sides of this most complex character enough to make it worth our time wading through what turns out to be a very talky and decidedly overlong evening? The dice are loaded in the affirmative for this production, largely because of the excellence of the cast. Brandon J. Dirden perfectly captures the cadence of Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.; so familiar are we with this speech pattern, that had he been even a little off, the entire production would have hit a false note.
Betsy Aidem shows us the pure heart of Lady Bird; otherwise, we could never understand the amount of abuse she takes from her husband. Veterans John McMartin, Michael McKean, Ethan Phillips, and Steve Vinovich all bring the necessary gravitas to the proceedings, while giving us insight into just how convoluted political dealings can become.
What’s at stake is nothing less than a keystone of American liberty and justice, the Civil Rights Act of 1964. For all his public stance of commitment to the “Negro cause,” JFK was unwilling to commit all his political capital to making the bill a reality. LBJ was determined that an up-from-the-soil Texan would get it passed while a New England aristocrat could not. Johnson still smarted from the perceived slights and mockery he’d received from the Kennedys and the elite coterie of friends and advisors they’d brought into the White House. After JFK’s untimely death, Robert Kennedy remained a thorn is Johnson’s side, and possibly, a threat to his 1964 election hopes. A complete triumph was necessary for Johnson to successfully complete his current term in office and vital for the guarantee of an opportunity at a term of his own. The fact that LBJ believed deeply in what the Voting Rights Act would mean for America spurred him on in what often seemed a battle against overwhelming odds.
Cranston has perfect command of the way LBJ by turns schmoozed, told endless folksy stories, and aggressively threatened those around him to do his will. The Humphrey Vice Presidency was hard won; it was clear that had he failed to accomplish what Johnson needed done, the second spot on the ticket would have gone to someone more adept at achieving results.
All the Way should be cut, and not necessarily gently. At nearly three hours, it’s just too long to hold the audience’s attention after the same points are reiterated several times. Having said that, I’m very much looking forward to Part II of the LBJ saga, “The Great Society,” which is scheduled to debut at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival this summer, presumably on its way to Broadway. All The Way covers only the first year of Lyndon Johnson’s presidency, but the most dramatic, if not always the best, days are yet to see the footlights.
