Tony Kushner burst upon modern-day culture in 1993 like Athena emerging from the forehead of Zeus. In a complete set of armor, in the case of the Greek goddess of wisdom and war; in a complete set of armor and ferociously slashing his ballpoint like Ivanhoe flailing his lance, in the case of the playwright. Angels in America—which premiered in California in 1991, London in 1992, and in its complete two-part, seven-plus hour form on Broadway in 1993—was bounteous, blustering, unrestrained, and altogether remarkable. It remains unblinkingly bold and politically provocative in Marianne Elliott’s astounding production, imported from the Royal National Theatre to the plebeian Neil Simon on 52nd Street.
It seems unwarranted, today, to offer dramatic criticism of Kushner’s self-proclaimed “gay fantasia on national themes.” A most interesting subtitle, in retrospect; the very word “gay,” in the reign of Reagan, was as dangerous as burning coals. And “fantasia,” at that point in time, signified only one thing: Disney, whose ambitious 1940 genre-bursting animated cornucopia had just been extravagantly restored and flooded the nation’s movie screens in the fall of 1990. A “gay fantasia” indeed.
But perhaps a plot recap is not altogether unhelpful, as a middle-aged suburbanite on line at the loo—eagerly awaiting the beginning of the first act of the second play—was overheard telling her friend, “I loved it last night, but I don’t really understand what it’s at all about.” Simply put, it follows the adventures of office-worker Louis Ironson and Prior Walter, his roommate in those long-ago days when legalized marriage was nothing more than a gay fantasia.
Prior has just been diagnosed with then-lethal AIDS, which sends him to the hospital and Louis into the arms of Joe Pitt, a gay Mormon Republican lawyer who leaves his wounded, Valium-popping wife Harper so she goes to Eskimoland with Prior’s friend/lover/nurse Belize while Joe’s boss and mentor—the evil and disgraced and soon-to-be-disbarred Joe McCarthy henchman Roy Cohn—loudly proclaims that he is straight even after he winds up under Belize’s care in the AIDS ward, where Ethel Rosenberg (who McCarthy and Cohn sent to the electric chair in 1953 under what seem to have been, you should pardon the expression, trumped up charges) sits by his deathbed and says Kaddish. There’s a monumental, very much corporeal angel with prodigious wingspan, too.
Yes, Kushner’s play is uncontrolled and unrestrained; but what was (almost 30 years ago) and is (today) so remarkable is how the man spins words. Trepidatious newcomers might well wonder how you can possibly sit there through two full-length evenings, or a matinee/evening combination, without growing weary, disengaged, restless, or otherwise distracted. It’s not the tangled web of story, which indeed seems all over the place (including the Arctic and the heavens). It’s the manner in which Kushner weaves plot, character, history, and whatever else apparently came to his fever-pitched mind like a modern-day Scheherazade. Except he cuts those 1,001 nights down to two because, I suppose, only the hardiest of ticketbuyers are likely to go back to see, say, Angels in America Part 739.
Let me restate that: you sit there as these characters go on tangents, some of which are so very far afield as to seem incomprehensible. But you hang on every word, and after seven hours Kushner manages to tie each and every element into a grand fantasia (there’s that word again) that is astonishing, unimaginable perfection. Which is what we pray for when we go to the theater, no?
Having seen numerous productions over the decades, I’ve come to the conclusion that Angels, in the hands of a suitably visionary director, is always going to be astounding. Comparisons unnecessary. The present edition comes from Marianne Elliott, whom you might well consider “suitably visionary.” If the name is unfamiliar, her two recent National Theatre escapades—War Horse and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time—will jog your memory. Her work on Angels is equally stunning. The fantastical staging is abetted by designers Ian MacNeil (scenery), Nicky Gillibrand (costumes), Paule Constable (lighting), Ian Dickinson (sound), and Finn Caldwell (puppets); the latter three were part of Elliott’s above-mentioned adventures. MacNeil, let it be said, designed what is one of the most memorable sets in my memory bank, for Stephen Daldry’s production of An Inspector Calls. His Angels work is suitably monumental, built on individual neon-lined cubicles that range across the playing space. The set is impressive, but it seems to have been conceived for the National’s larger and wider Lyttleton and likely played better there (but you can’t hold that against the designer).
The cast, too, is exceptional—although one of the most exceptional moments might come when you realize that there are only eight actors up there. This iteration is galvanized by Andrew Garfield, of Spider-Man fame, as Prior, and Nathan Lane as Cohn. One might assume, by the playing, that Kushner wrote the role specifically for the oversized comic talents of the present-day Lane. The actor all but absconds with the first part in a manner which might seem overdone. But it is not; rather, Lane’s comedic rampage pays off as Cohn succumbs to mortality. There are too many extraordinary scenes in the play to start recounting them, but the hospital exchanges between Lane and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett (as Belize) are riveting. The cast is rounded out by James McArdle as Louis, Lee Pace as Joe, Denise Gough as Harper, Amanda Lawrence as the Angel (et al.), and Susan Brown (as Ethel Rosenberg et al.).
“Where’s my Roy Cohn?” the leader of the free world recently pleaded. He’s on the stage of the Neil Simon, sir; and it might do you well to stroll over from your nearby tower to watch your revered role model in the flesh, as it were. Although you’ll no doubt quickly grow fidgety, and I’d wager you won’t get cheered by the crowd. Maybe you should send your vice?
Angels in America opened March 25, 2018, at the Neil Simon Theatre and runs through July 1. Tickets and information: angelsbroadway.com
