The Normal Heart

Every so often, I go into "theme" mode with what I'm reading and every book I pick up is about the same subject. Usually, the more depressing the topic, the more likely I'll get caught up. I once spent four months only reading novels set during West African civil wars. Another time, I dedicated myself to reading AIDS literature of the mid-80s: Paul Monette's memoirs, And the Band Played On, Queer and Loathing, the essays of Andrew Holleran...really upbeat stuff. But I had never read Larry Kramer's The Normal Heart. I had read (and loved) his scabrous novel Faggots, and knew stories of the play's original run at the Public, when the original leading man died of the disease a few months into the run, the walls of the theater were updated with the names of those who passed away, and the production went on to break records and became the theater's longest running show ever. I just hadn't actually read it, and for some reason, I anticipated that it would end up being a bit of a museum piece--political theater of a particular time that didn't hold up except as a document of a moment.



Last year, I was lucky enough to catch the reading that the current Broadway production of the show is based on. I won't lie. Part of what drew me in was the cast: Glenn Close, Jack McBrayer, and Patrick Wilson among them. But the two best things that came out of the night for me were how wonderful actor turned director Joe Mantello was in the central role of Ned Weeks, and how fantastic the play actually is. It was scarily prescient given when it was written, but it also holds up as a deeply moving snapshot of a community in crisis. It's shot through with humor, but its vitality comes from the enormity of rage at its core.



The play is, lets be real, completely autobiographical. Ned Weeks is Larry Kramer, founder of the Gay Men's Health Crisis, notorious loudmouth and asshole. And in a lot of ways, the play is his way of showing that he was right all along while simultaneously serving as a mea culpa for his less than stellar behavior. What makes it hold up is Kramer's ability to paint all of the characters around him with compassion and understanding, getting just enough distance to give every character around his space to breathe and enough saving grace not to wallow in their bad judgments.



From reading to full production, all but two cast members changed. It's not a slight to those in the reading that they are (with one exception) outshone by the current cast. After all, in the first go-around there was about a week to prepare and everyone was on script. Now in a fully realized, though still spare, production the action feels more immediate, more real, and even more moving. Jim Parsons is phenomenal as Teddy Boatwright, Southern gentleman, flirt, cad, and compassionate caregiver. He gets most of the show's lighter moments but never loses sight of the stakes around him. It was crushing to read a letter Kramer distributed after the show and learn that the real Tommy had killed himself. Joe Mantello is perfection as Ned Weeks. Along with Mark Rylance and Al Pacino, he is one of three actors this season who gave performances that are among the best I've ever seen. In Mantello's hands, Ned is a dragon, but a compassionate one--full of rage borne only out of love, unable to contain himself because of the wrongs he sees done even as his actions ruin his own life. This man who could be seen as a pretentious blowhard is portrayed with deep humanity that allows us to see him (and by proxy his creator, Kramer) for the truly heroic souls they are. As his lover, John Benjamin Hickey is so charming and so thoughtful and so romantic that his eventual illness (this is not really a spoiler--it's an AIDS play) is all the more heartbreaking.



Only Lee Pace seems out of place. As Bruce, the more charismatic, attractive, sensible co-founder of the GMHC, he seems stranded amidst greater talents and can't quite rise to the occasion. His monologue in the second act was delivered astoundingly by Patrick Wilson in the reading. Pace's speech felt hollow, tried on, and just...less real. What should be the first significant gut-punch of the night doesn't hurt as much as it should, and that's a shame.



That aside, this is a thrilling night out, if you can count as thrilling something that ends with an entire auditorium audibly sniffling and red eyes all around. That letter from Kramer which is handed out on your way out of the theater is a depressing testament to just how current the show really still is, but also to the fact that the old blowhard just won't give up. Bless him. If you see the show and get the letter, I recommend you wait until you're alone to read it. I was a wreck after reading it. The man has a way with words, and his play, perhaps his greatest achievement, is living proof.