To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee is one of those novels that almost feels like a bible.
I’ve carried a copy of the book from my high school English class to my dorm room in college and then, later, from apartment to apartment across state lines. It’s now sitting on my desk as I write this review of the Broadway play.
I’ve wondered about how much courage it must take to be Atticus Finch in 1931, and I still wonder about how much courage it takes to be like Atticus today.
The Broadway adaptation of To Kill A Mockingbird has been highly publicized, with some critics tearing apart the audacity of the project, well before the characters were cast and the curtains were raised.
It’s undoubtedly risky to try to adapt and retell a classic. But reuniting Jeff Daniels (you know him from HBO’s The Newsroom) with West Wing mastermind Aaron Sorkin was bound to be electric.
The second Atticus Finch was cued for the stage, the audience applauded — I was wondering what the reaction would be for the highly-anticipated role. It was loud enough to show excitement as Jeff Daniels walked into the spotlight, but not loud enough to miss his first line.
Daniels is a more powerful, assertive Atticus than what I remember reading from high school. And his commanding presence is different than when Gregory Peck played Atticus from the 1962 movie adaptation of the novel. And that’s the point.
The play threads the quote, perhaps most infamously tied to the novel.
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view […] until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”
Sorkin returns to this line throughout the play, and the theme seems more important now than ever, as I sit here and think about Charlottesville, the attacks on churches and synagogues, and so many more chilling headlines.
The bigotry is so loud in the play, it seems to body-slam the audience. Sorkin makes a point to draw alarming connections: some of the themes, tones, and words of the book haven’t changed much since it was published in 1960.
In a way, Daniels playing Atticus is reminiscent of his character, Will McAvoy on The Newsroom. They’re both unwavering absolutists. And Sorkin really pushes the concept of what integrity means.
Lee’s quote echoes throughout the play. And it’s interesting how Atticus stands in between two extremes, but he’s not torn. There’s a difference.
In one scene, Klansmen are ready to lynch Atticus for “betraying their kind.” It’s unforgivable in this “tired old town” of Maycomb, Alabama for a white man to defend a black man accused of rape. There is uproar and there is violence.
But the anger comes from all sides and Atticus is in the middle of retaliation.
Those who believe Tom Robinson is innocent are angry too. They don’t understand how Atticus can be so respectful to those going after Robinson, ready to send him to the electric chair, without really knowing the facts.
What’s different here is Calpurnia, a black woman who looks after Scout and Jem, makes her opinions clear to Atticus on stage. In a way, she pushes him to consider her point of view. In the novel, Calpurnia doesn’t interject her opinions.
Even with her pushing, Daniels holds a steady demeanor on stage.
Atticus teaches his kids, Scout and Jem, how to empathize with those they hate.
There’s that quote coming into the play again.
It’s the ultimate test.
[tweetshare tweet=”It’s the conflict of empathy: a person must not only seek to understand the victim, but also the perpetrator.” username=”myadventuresnow”]
Sorkin said in an interview on CBS’s 60 Minutes, he wanted to explore the idea behind Donald Trump’s infamous quote, “You had some very bad people in that group, but you also had people that were very fine people, on both sides.”
Trump’s response was about the 21-year-old avowed neo-Nazi who plowed his car into a crowd of counterprotesters last year at a white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Va. and murdered a woman. A jury in Charlottesville said Tuesday that James Alex Fields Jr. should be sentenced to life plus 419 years in prison.
How Trump’s quote somehow parallels Harper Lee’s words is astonishing, and at times terrifying.
“I wanted in the play for Atticus to be forced to wrestle with the question if there is goodness in everybody,” said Sorkin. “Should these things be excused?”
The Atticus on Broadway seems more realistic than the Atticus in Lee’s novel.
Lee’s version depicts a noble Atticus who is steadfast and unwavering on what is right. He’s also convinced it’s too hard to judge a person, and by association, most people are still good.
But it’s hard to accept that in the modern day.
Sorkin more than acknowledges this.
Because while Daniels plays a confident Atticus, it’s also very obvious in moments where Atticus isn’t even sure if he’s right. He goes through more of a process to understand his values, evolving his own sense of right and wrong.
It’s more relatable and human than the flawless Atticus in the novel.
Atticus makes a point to explain to Scout and Jem there is a difference between an explanation and an excuse. And to crawl around someone’s skin provides that background, that greater picture, and that explanation for why someone is the way they are. But it doesn’t mean their actions are excusable.
“In the last few years, we as Americans have very abruptly faced questions that we didn’t think we needed to ask ourselves anymore,” said Sorkin on 60 minutes. “Questions of, ‘What is decency and morality?’ ‘What is it to be a person?’ We are fighting with each other about these things.”
There’s a struggle to answer all these modern-day questions in the play as well.
While Atticus wants to teach Scout and Jem the right lessons, his children don’t always know what it means to do the right thing, or if there is such a thing.
With this crucial message, the actresses in the play are front and center of the production and plot line.
Celia Keenan-Bolger plays a convincing, torn Scout, who’s character development centers around her coming-of-age: the minute Scout learns what cruelty really means is the moment she loses her innocence.
And it’s painful to watch, in a convincing way.
My stomach dropped when I felt Keenan-Bolger’s voice crack on stage during a crucial scene. It was that visceral.
I made the rookie mistake of not bringing tissues, and the audience begins audibly crying during this moment. The sniffling seems to echo all the way up to my nosebleed seats.
Erin Wilhelmi gives an incredible performance as the 19-year-old girl, Mayella Ewell, who accuses Robinson of rape.
There are striking moments in the play where Sorkin highlights questions about what makes one’s character break. When does a person crumble? And why that moment?
Atticus finds his breaking point. As does Tom Robinson. As do Scout and Jem. Everyone does. And that’s a more realistic story, to me, than what’s played out in the novel.
Watching Mayella’s breaking point on the witness stand to the (imaginary) all-white male jury is gut-wrenching. And it’s especially painful as Sorkin brings to light a different take on the #MeToo movement. The anger, the embarrassment, and the rage are clear on stage.
In watching characters crack, I wondered what my breaking point would be, too. Would I try to do the right thing, no matter the circumstance? It’s an existential question that the audience begins to grapple with as more and more characters fold in their most vulnerable moments.
There’s a part where Scout’s innocence completely shines. Keenan-Bolger sells that scene, and for a moment, Scout truly does crawl in another person’s skin. It’s a collective epiphany from the audience, as everyone gasps and mumbles. And there’s more crying, the sniffling goes all the way up to our nosebleed seats.
It’s heart-warming to see, and yet, the play still stabs when it’s clear innocence is ephemeral.
Scout and Jem are robbed of their childhood right before intermission. I’m crying. The audience is crying. Our whole section is loudly crying, although it seems to be worse at the front.
Pay attention to the conversation Scout has with the man on the witness stand who’s initially known as “the drunk.” There’s an important lesson there, again, going back to the quote.
[tweetshare tweet=”I will say for such a weighted book with piercing themes, Sorkin excels. His style is obvious: a heavy, pointed plot peppered with quick quips that make the audience laugh, if only briefly.” username=”myadventuresnow”]
The most impactful difference between the play and the novel is, Robinson has a voice. His testimony on the stand is huge, the dialogue during the cross-examination is not present in the novel.
I wanted the ending to be different for Robinson. But the play was more impactful, simply because it’s what you hope you wouldn’t see.
Of course, there’s book Atticus, the movie Atticus, and now the Broadway Atticus.
You watch a noble figure like Atticus Finch, and you wonder if there will ever be a modern-day Atticus in the world that can seem so cruel, so unjust.
Harper Lee takes to her pen; Andrew Sorkin takes to the stage. And they both answer this.
