Flight: The Rise and Fall of Charles Lindbergh

I saw a beautiful production last night of Flight, a new play by Garth Wingfield. It’s in previews now, but it’s opening next week at the Lucille Lortel Theatre, on Christopher Street. New Yorkers: I highly recommend that you check it out. It’s fascinating, very well done, with a terrific cast. One of the things I really liked about it was that, along with telling the story of Charles Lindbergh’s life, its main theme seemed to be fame, and what fame can do to people. There’s a reporter, played by the gorgeous Brian d’Arcy James (I saw him do The Good Thief about 5 years ago, and thought: “Holy God. Who is that gorgeous man??”) – who acts as the narrator, almost, the exposition-teller. We see how reporters, from the beginning, tried to turn Lindbergh into a “story” – They wanted to make HIM the story, as opposed to making the story about his incredible cross-Atlantic flight. Lindbergh kept trying to talk about the airplane, and the reporter kept trying to get cute stories from him. This reporter shows up in different forms throughout the play – trying to get pictures of Lindbergh weeping when his baby was kidnapped, hounding him down in the grocery store … an onslaught that never stopped, until WWII, when Lindbergh became enemy # 1, and the reporter walks away from Lindbergh, not wanting to hear any more. The play tells the story of that arc.

Because fame is such a large part of this story, a lot of it is seen through that prism. For example, when the baby is kidnapped – Anne and Charles (and their Irish maid) tell the story directly to the audience, but they’re all talking into old-fashioned radio-broadcast microphones, as though it’s a press conference. I thought that was extremely effective, and made the point very very well. This was a couple’s private horror, and yet the entire world was watching.

On the back wall we often saw old footage, old photographs … home movies of the Lindberghs, newsreel footage, collages of newspaper headlines … You could not get away from the fact that these people were the most famous people of their day.

Kerry (my cousin) played Anne, with a luminous intelligent grace. It’s a painful part, and must be exhausting. Gregg Edelman played Lindbergh (originally Eric Stoltz was going to do it) – and I thought Edelman was great. It’s a difficult role – Lindbergh was not always likable.

The rest of the cast was marvelous as well.

After the show, David and I went out for a couple beers at a nice low-lit cozy bar in Jersey City. And what did we do? We sat there and talked about Charles Lindbergh. We discussed the issues that came up in the play, we hashed it all out. This then led into a huge conversation about The World We Live in Today. It was great. I love it when plays spark conversations like that afterwards.

It’s a lovely piece of theatre, very very sad – when all is said and done – but very well done. I might have to break out my Anne Lindbergh journals again. I have read them a thousand times, but it’s been a while. Last night made me feel like I should dip into them again. They’re extraordinary, all 5 volumes.

Coda: Oh, and my sage-green eyeshadow works really well. I am excited. I contoured my eyelids with a darker green, and there was a smattering of gold mixed into it … It was a thrilling change.