Review: Ed Asner

Walking into the auditorium was akin to stepping into a time machine. 1930s-era radio tunes were playing, and the vintage beauty of The Paramount Theatre amplified this illusion. If not for the soft glow of people on the cell phones, one would never know what year it was. An anticipation was building as we knew showtime was approaching, and the buzz of seating patrons was growing. He, after all, is a man with a reputation that far precedes his entrance into a room. A legend in his own time, with a strong personality that seems far bigger than the corporal vessel to which he is confined.

At that moment, I realized that statement could apply to both the man performing that night or the role portrayed. Franklin Roosevelt was an incredibly powerful President, but was crippled by his battle with polio. He never let that get in his way, and projected strength while helping our country back on our feet. Similarly Ed Asner, now in his eighth decade, refuses to slow down. Although showing signs of age, not one spark of his power or energy can be diffused. Asner may be older and more frail, but I assure you his voice hasn't lost one bit of its power.

A one man show, FDR is an account of Roosevelt's years in office told from a memoir point of view. As Roosevelt, Asner would address the audience, and then at certain points would retreat into the setting behind him on stage, dressed to represent the Oval Office. At that point, the story would become reenactments of key moments in FDR's life and administration. Conversations transpire with invisible characters, but it never felt forced or awkward. The transitions were seamless and, despite no visual cues or lighting changes during these shifts, there was never a sense of confusion on the part of the audience.

It was fascinating to watch, like diary entries come to life. The entire production developed on stage like a memoir. Despite having a lone performer on stage, one could easily determine the tone and supporting characters that Asner was "playing" against. The narration had the right tone of hubris one would expect from a man who constantly defied odds and prevailed.

What was most impressive, you ask? The emotion. Often subtle, the power of Asner's performance hinted that for all of Roosevelt's pomp and acheivement, he was still a mortal man. We could diagnose the erosion of the Oval Office on FDR's relationships. I often caught glimpses of how distant Eleanor and Franklin had become. You could detect a hint of loneliness in the performance. After all, it can't be easy to be a leader of the free world when everyone thinks you're a socialist and running the country into the ground by virtue of big government. Isn't that right, Barack I mean, Franklin?

I know what you're thinking. Asner is not the ideal man to match the physical depiction of FDR. Personally, I always picture Roosevelt as long and sickly (probably based solely on the famous photo of him, Churchill and Stalin at Yalta). Ed may be short and stocky, but his age and demeanor fostered a balance of power and frailty that capture FDR's essence. What I'm trying to articulate is: Asner may not have looked the part, but I can think of no one better to embody the spirit of the 32nd President of the United States.

Not that the night was all heavy drama. There was plenty of mirth sprinkled throughout, amplified by that notorious glint in Asner's eye. Many of his monologues to the audience had humorous anecdotes. A memorable story involved regular poker games at the White House, hosted by Roosevelt. One night, a guest was General Dwight Eisenhower, who was honored and humbled to be playing poker with the President. Ike won 20 dollars that night, and wanted FDR to autograph it so he could keep it as a momento. The President quipped, "if all you want is a signature give me the 20 dollar bill back and I'll write you a check." Classic.

One could tell that Asner, a life long liberal political activist, had a blast taking shots at Republicans while in character. Heck, I'm willing to wager that poking fun at Conservatives was part of the allure for Asner to tackle the role in the first place. The digs were never mean-spirited, but were a cocktail of equal parts respect and pity. There was a particular fondness for Republican Wendall Willkie, his opponent in the 1940 Presidential election. Despite a venomous campaign, FDR lamented to the audience, "I liked Willkie, just not the company he kept."

Regardless of your own political affiliation, the evening was far from polarizing. If anything, reminded us that the course of history is shaped by flesh and blood people. We may see them now as statues of granite and marble, but they were human like us when at their best and the worst. The lasting memory that night was easily the most powerful scene. It is Dec 7, 1941, and the tranquility of Roosevelt's morning is interrupted by a historic phone call. When he took the call that notified him about Pearl Harbor, it was like the air was sucked out of the place. Everyone in the theatre was holding their breath, each imagining the terrible dialogue on the other end of the phone. When he finally hangs up and slumps in disbelief, we feel everything: the anger, the pain, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. We all were left in respectful awe, every one of us with a lump in our throat.

That emotion that evening was palpable, and only afterwards did I realize it was crafted solely out of one man on that stage. The show was a precious gift to behold, and came courtesy of one of the most talented veteran actors working today. That, dear friends, is what a legend truly is. Stepping out of that virtual time capsule back into a 21st century night, I held greater appreciation for both FDR and for Ed Asner. He's not only timeless, but also a national treasure; an actor as iconic as Mount Rushmore.