Thurgood, by George Stevens Jr., isn’t much of a play, but that doesn’t mean it lacks drama. It’s more of a history lesson, a majestic and commanding set piece for Laurence Fishburne to reincarnate the spirit and physicality of the late and legendary Supreme Court Justice, Thurgood Marshall.
Like many biographical monodramas—Jay Presson Allen’s Tru that won Robert Morse a Tony for playing Truman Capote back in 1990, comes to mind—Fishburne transcends all of Thurgood’s textual deficiencies with apparent ease. From his first entrance—leaning on a cane, shuffling on—to the character’s head-held-high exit 90 minutes later, we’re firmly in the palm of his hands all the way through.
With those hands, Fishburne creates magic. As Marshall describes his disadvantaged youth, Fishburne caresses us by using anecdotes that humanize this lion of American jurisprudence. He gently touches us with Marshall’s forceful personality and formidable intellect. He even slaps us upside the head as Marshall’s great historical achievement—being the first African American on the Supreme Court—is slowly impressed upon us.
Having introduced us to Marshall near the end of his life, Stevens’ script begins by returning him to his youth. As staged by Leonard Foglia, Fishburne does undergo a physical transformation here, but it’s subtly and unobtrusively done; it’s never about communicating to the audience that a tour de force is set to unfold. Fishburne removes his glasses, sets aside the cane, stiffens his spine and widens his eyes in such a way that you remain focused only on the character and on absorbing on the substance of the speeches.
Early on, for example, the topic of the N-word arises. Marshall recalls how, on the advice of his father, he learns one way to handle the phrase—with physical action—and then he learns more insidiously effective ways to address it. No doubt Fishburne, like his character, is a natural storyteller, using various vocal tones to let us picture Marshall’s mother pawning her jewelry so Thurgood can attend law school. (Allen Moyer’s set—a conference table with a center podium—and Elaine McCarthy’s projection design smartly evoke an auditorium at Marshall’s alma mater, Howard University.)
The jurist’s tragic first marriage is briefly touched upon before the focus segues to Marshall’s work as a neophyte attorney at the NAACP, making sure we understand how life-threatening it was for a black activist lawyer in the prewar South. Everything culminates, of course, in Marshall’s appearance before the Supreme Court and its fateful 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision that cast off Plessy v. Ferguson, the doctrine of separate but equal, to history. Later, Marshall recalls how President Johnson named him solicitor general and then appointed him to the Supreme Court. Where the script asks Fishburne to imitate Johnson, he instead provides just enough voice and body language to conjure up the 36th president—but not so much to seem chameleonic.
In fact, Fishburne is so strong that Thurgood asks you to question whether Marshall has yet received his historical due. In the final moments of the play, Fishburne is once again playing Marshall as the aged, shuffling octogenarian. It’s now time for him to consider the specter of his successor on the court, Clarence Thomas, a man whose far-right politics and rocky Senate confirmation process have made him as polarizing a figure as Marshall, the great liberal hope, was in his day. Watch the way Fishburne finesses this moment. It’s one more bit of evidence that Fishburne has taken this wisp of a play and restored Thurgood Marshall as an American giant.
April 30 to July 20. Booth Theatre, 222 W. 45th St. (betw. Broadway & 8th Ave.), 212-239-6200; $71.50-$96.50.
Like many biographical monodramas—Jay Presson Allen’s Tru that won Robert Morse a Tony for playing Truman Capote back in 1990, comes to mind—Fishburne transcends all of Thurgood’s textual deficiencies with apparent ease. From his first entrance—leaning on a cane, shuffling on—to the character’s head-held-high exit 90 minutes later, we’re firmly in the palm of his hands all the way through.
With those hands, Fishburne creates magic. As Marshall describes his disadvantaged youth, Fishburne caresses us by using anecdotes that humanize this lion of American jurisprudence. He gently touches us with Marshall’s forceful personality and formidable intellect. He even slaps us upside the head as Marshall’s great historical achievement—being the first African American on the Supreme Court—is slowly impressed upon us.
Having introduced us to Marshall near the end of his life, Stevens’ script begins by returning him to his youth. As staged by Leonard Foglia, Fishburne does undergo a physical transformation here, but it’s subtly and unobtrusively done; it’s never about communicating to the audience that a tour de force is set to unfold. Fishburne removes his glasses, sets aside the cane, stiffens his spine and widens his eyes in such a way that you remain focused only on the character and on absorbing on the substance of the speeches.
Early on, for example, the topic of the N-word arises. Marshall recalls how, on the advice of his father, he learns one way to handle the phrase—with physical action—and then he learns more insidiously effective ways to address it. No doubt Fishburne, like his character, is a natural storyteller, using various vocal tones to let us picture Marshall’s mother pawning her jewelry so Thurgood can attend law school. (Allen Moyer’s set—a conference table with a center podium—and Elaine McCarthy’s projection design smartly evoke an auditorium at Marshall’s alma mater, Howard University.)
The jurist’s tragic first marriage is briefly touched upon before the focus segues to Marshall’s work as a neophyte attorney at the NAACP, making sure we understand how life-threatening it was for a black activist lawyer in the prewar South. Everything culminates, of course, in Marshall’s appearance before the Supreme Court and its fateful 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision that cast off Plessy v. Ferguson, the doctrine of separate but equal, to history. Later, Marshall recalls how President Johnson named him solicitor general and then appointed him to the Supreme Court. Where the script asks Fishburne to imitate Johnson, he instead provides just enough voice and body language to conjure up the 36th president—but not so much to seem chameleonic.
In fact, Fishburne is so strong that Thurgood asks you to question whether Marshall has yet received his historical due. In the final moments of the play, Fishburne is once again playing Marshall as the aged, shuffling octogenarian. It’s now time for him to consider the specter of his successor on the court, Clarence Thomas, a man whose far-right politics and rocky Senate confirmation process have made him as polarizing a figure as Marshall, the great liberal hope, was in his day. Watch the way Fishburne finesses this moment. It’s one more bit of evidence that Fishburne has taken this wisp of a play and restored Thurgood Marshall as an American giant.
April 30 to July 20. Booth Theatre, 222 W. 45th St. (betw. Broadway & 8th Ave.), 212-239-6200; $71.50-$96.50.
