Review of ‘Mrs. President’: “Logged-off pathos”

The Charing Cross Theatre welcomes the London premiere of John Ranson Phillips’s historical play – exploring the confidante relationship between Mrs. Lincoln and her photographer after her husband’s death. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if, when it comes to any flaws, he should let ’em up easy.

It would be too easy to make a theatre-related joke of Lincoln-themed play when you didn’t care too much for it. I know I could kill you with one of those, and I would probably slay it when doing so – but I’ve decided to give other ways a shot. Seriously, though, we really can’t blame authors for focusing on attention to the woman who stood by who’s still regarded as one of the greatest American heroes (the current office may disagree, however). But the thing it’s that this is actually an excellent premise. If only that was the only thing we need for a show to work, though…

A person silenced by the prejudice of her time and the sorrows of her personal life. The drama is so exceptionally alive, all the elements should fall into place almost on the spot. Author John Ransom-Phillips understand the grounds of its concept, but he seems unaware of the extraordinary potential he’s holding in his hands – basically, because practically all of it is left unused, and replaced by a shallow, confusing, and disengaging narrative that barely manages to grasp the viewer’s interest; let alone, win them over.

A two-hander starring a historical duo made by Mrs. Lincoln and acclaimed, visually-impaired photographer Matthew Brady, here’s the story of a lovely lady desperate to restore the inner peace life had recently snatched away from her. He portrait sessions will go on to become her sanctuary, but also a reminder of all the past demons her heart is still weighed down by.

There’s so much poetry and introspection in that plot line, it’s hard to understand how the final product lacks so much depth and poignancy all throughout. Its disorganized structure, deprived from a proper third act, and leaving audiences unfulfilled as for the characters’ arc and the course of action, may indeed be the key of its, sadly, many issues. Its usually off rhythm, absence of flow and dynamism, and its constantly aimless recount unfortunately do not ease the burden either. Wistfully, it’s a few drafts away from being ready for the stage.

Continuously, we get the impression that the writer is uncertain about the style he wants to go for. A mixture of genres doesn’t mean trouble – on the contrary, it can be extremely enriching. But without a defined goal, its approach looks muddled. There is too much unnecessary symbolism – probably, in an attempt to give a sense of profundity to the script. The result, nonetheless, is quite the opposite. Not only does it not entice the viewer, but it creates a feeling of distance and superfluousness. It just doesn’t add any value to the tale – instead, it just clutters it.

Directed by Bronagh Lagan, both actors flaunt competent skills – however, they also seem to have been misguided in their performances, unable to bring too much chemistry; often feeling as if detached from each other, and slightly overly hyperbolic. On the other hand, the set design, credit to Gregor Donnelly, parts from the marvelous notion of framing a photo studio as a picture itself. Yet, its excessively figurative execution prevents it from realizing all its possibilities – as a simpler, blackbox inside would allow for smoother, seamless transitions from scene to scene.

It all begins with an idea. But even the greatest idea is irrelevant until somebody makes it work. Mrs. President is a play of promises, but not of deliveries. It’s a remarkable, hopeful starting point, but its outcome is terribly disappointing. There are so many things that could have been told, and so many themes to have shed light on – yet, all of them are to remain in obscurity.

With hardly any pathos, while all the time struggling to go beyond its much archetypical, almost caricatural depiction, the show is nowhere near abolishing the distance with its watchers – accentuating their secession from an account that scarcely boasts any ability to grip. It had the tools to make of it a stand-out piece in British theatre. But instead, it’s stayed closer to its American cousin.

Mrs. President plays at London’s Charing Cross Theatre until 16 March. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara