If successful theater reflects its times, Eleanor: An American Love Story has something going for it even before the curtain is drawn. The show, which began previews Tuesday in Reynolds Theater, explores the line between professional collaboration and romantic partnership in the mercurial Roosevelt marriage. This Bill-Hillary equilibrium, however, is but one of the heavy themes touched on in this splendid joint production by Theater Previews at Duke and Ford's Theatre.
At the center of the narrative is a glorious Anna Kanengeiser, whose performance is a window into Eleanor Roosevelt's frustrations and aspirations. Kanengeiser opens the show with "How the Other Half Lives," a Dickensian look at class relations in turn of the century New York. If the class theme, which persists through the third scene, is a bit trite, the songs and dances which examine it are at least fun to watch.
As Franklin Roosevelt, Anthony Cummings' very presence is presidential, and so it comes as no surprise that his best scenes revolve around power-initially as a Harvard senior making awkward come-ons to his cousin Eleanor and later as polio victim standing for the first time. The latter is perhaps the most convincing portrayal of re-learning to stand since Charlie gave Grandpa Joe the golden ticket in Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Cummings'character is constantly in flux, so if some of his transitions-falling in love, becoming a politico, regaining strength-seem forced, it is more a product of abrupt writing than of poor acting.
The Roosevelt union is complex. After a brief courtship which shows few signs of love, Franklin and Eleanor are married. Their first kiss, which seals their wedding night bond, comes after a song in which the two agree to be, first and foremost, co-collaborators. Their nuptial bed assumes the significance-and the appearance, thanks to a tasteful projection of an ocean scene-of a ship. And the ensuing marriage is one of constant navigation and negotiation-between Eleanor's desire to change society and her need for a fulfilling family, between her uncontainable vibrance and intelligence and her role as a political wife.
By the time Kanengeiser has convinced the audience of her love for the budding statesman in the brilliant "Life of the Party" sequence, Franklin, now Secretary of the Navy, has been consumed by the idea of Washington power. Only a few scenes later, he betrays her love as he kisses young political aide Lewinsky-I mean Lucy-Mercer, played by Christine Hewitt. The knowing but absent Eleanor watches from stage right as FDR waltzes with Hewitt. "It would be a shame to waste the music," he whispers in his mistress-to-be's ear.
If Franklin's credo is opportunism, Eleanor's is dedication, poignantly expressed in the song "Give." "My way to be is to give," she claims, and though Franklin wastes countless songs once he is wheelchair-bound, Eleanor continues to develop as she continues to give.
Two superb supporting characters-FDR's mother (Rita Gardner) and political advisor Louis Howe (Steve Routman)-assume a new place in the story once FDR is stricken. Mrs. Roosevelt, whose snobbery weakens with her son's legs, allows Eleanor to grow by stepping out of the limelight, whereas Howe actually endows Eleanor with political savvy.
In the final scene, where FDR decides to reenter politics, he stands and, clutching Eleanor, asserts: "To move forward, I need someone to hold on to me." Eleanor knows she is this person.
By the final curtain, so does the audience.
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