Satire

The premise of “FDR’s Power Suit” is quite far-fetched. In 1942, Franklin Delano Roosevelt discovers a suit of powered time-travel body armor that allows him to travel backwards in time, right to Braunau am Inn, Austria – Hitler’s birthplace. There, he is confronted with the dilemma of killing Young Hitler, despite the fact that the world doesn’t yet know the monster he will become.
This is a first effort by playwright Preston McDaniels and comes across as such, though McDaniels should be applauded for having the guts to put the idea to paper and the focus to write it all out, because it takes a lot of time to do that. Not to mention, his mother died last year while skiing and he’s had a very tough time of it. Knowing that McDaniels has been quite sad as of late makes me hesitant to point out such historical inaccuracies as his FDR having working legs.
From the get-go, it was obvious that the role of FDR was miscast. Annette Carlisle, in addition to being a woman, has much trouble pronouncing the letter “s” without a severe lisp. The end result was often comedic, even in scenes that I believe were supposed to be dramatic. Honestly though, in these times of daily bad news a good laugh is a nice thing, so the comic relief was much appreciated. No doubt the audience was meant to cry during the song “She Sleeps Alone, She Sleeps, She Does” but it was such a hearty laugh that a “thumbssss-up” is in order. I still chuckle when I think back to the closing tearjerker “So, So Sorry.”
Director Francis Daly was apparently very sick in the month before opening night, so many of the inconsistencies I saw can be forgiven. The awkward transitions between scenes were sometimes charming, and one had to wonder if watching the actors fumble around the darkened stage wasn’t actually a stroke of artistic brilliance on Mr. Daly’s part. Probably not, but there’s always a chance it was, and I believe you’re innocent until proven guilty – so kudos to Mr. Daly.
The freestyle approach to blocking was unique. In one scene featuring Michael Chris Finnegan as Young Hitler, all the actors crowded upstage in a small, unlit area. I later learned that someone had placed all their marks in one spot (a practical joke, apparently). Though the actors seemed disoriented and the cacophony made the lyrics impossible to understand, and the resulting chaos seemed to disturb the actors for several scenes following, the joke was quite funny. Certainly they’re not to blame for it.
The role of Hitler was quite slapstick and physically demanding, requiring Finnegan to frequently fall forward to the floor, with his arms by his sides. Though Finnegan is not the best-suited for physical comedy and frequently broke character during these moments, he often regained it after the nosebleed stopped.
In retrospect, Casting Director Martina Turlough might have been better-off going for a less morbidly-obese Young Hitler, but she was also working on a Columbia student film so she was quite busy. Besides, Finnegan has a great headshot, though it’s quite dated. It’s easy to see how Turlough may have cast Finnegan by his misleading photo.
Eva Braun, played by Ania Gonzalez, was tough role to tackle, in part because the character was limited to grunts and cackles. Playwright McDaniels obviously based Ms. Braun on his own mother, as she dies in a skiing accident halfway through the play. After her “death” she dangles over the stage in a Christ-like pose that was as distracting as it was unnecessary. Nevertheless, McDaniels still seems very upset about his mom, so I shan’t make a point of it.
The weakest link in the performances was that of Karl Tather as Joe Goebbels, whose wooden, monotone delivery often ran the risk of bringing each scene to a screeching halt. I later learned that Tather is a third cousin to actor Adrian Brody, so it’s hard to understand what happened. Obviously he comes from brilliant actor stock, so I can only assume he didn’t feel well the night I saw the show.
The tech folks didn’t quite have the lighting down, in part because they have very complicated new software. Technical director Karen Key has a new puppy, and you know how time consuming that can be. In one scene, set in Hitler’s loft apartment, a refrigerator is illuminated by five spotlights. One spends the majority of the scene wondering why, until one realizes that there is no reason why. A soliloquy by FDR about Eva Braun’s crossbow was interrupted when Carlisle was blinded by a strobe light. They’ll probably have these things worked out for future shows, so I’m not going to dwell on them.
Overall, “FDR’s Power Suit” was a very different play in many respects. I think all the elements combine to offer the viewer a unique experience, and one well-worth the $25 admission. I’m giving it 4 out of 5 stars, only because of the few minor problems I’ve mentioned.
Though it may be inappropriate for me to suggest – I believe McDaniels deserves a standing ovation because it will make him feel better, and he really seems down.
“FDR’s Power Suit” at the New Millennium Project Actor’s Theatre; Lower East Side. Seats $25-50. Annette Carlisle as FDR, Michael Chris Finnegan as Young Hitler, Ania Gonzalez as Eva Braun, Karl Tather as Josef Goebbels, Peter Anton Walczak as Hutton Gibson. Shows all month, except Mondays. Tickets are available through TicketPlace.

STARBUCKS (SBUX): The Starbucks on Chambers Street in Tribeca was really busy. The barista was pleasant and the Whole Milk thermos was full. I poured a little coffee into the trash because I needed room and no one yelled at me. This is good a business strategy. STRONG BUY.
MICROSOFT (MSFT): Windows has cornered the market in crazy computer viruses. Apple will never catch up. BUY.
FORD (F): Some hooligan in an Explorer was blocking the crosswalk. Not only that, he was blasting what sounded like Salsa music with satanic maracas. This is really rude behavior, and not the first time someone in a Ford has ticked me off. There will probably be some kind of backlash some day. SELL.
HOME DEPOT (HD): I need to repair the floor that the Genovese-crime-family-connected building contractor installed very poorly. The Arab deli across the street doesn’t have belt sanders or drill bits. The hardware store four blocks up has narrow aisles and is overpriced. The answer: Home Depot. They test employee urine so I can rest assured no druggie touched my plywood. BUY.
XEROX (XRX): At the agency the other day, the assistant had to make me a few copies. I thought for every me, there are probably many other people just like me who need copies too. And there are billions of people worldwide. Since Xerox is in the copy business, their stock will probably go nuts, I figured. Then I thought about it and realized there are others like Ricoh and Konica. And people from Bangladesh don’t make copies. MARKET PERFORM.
3M (MMM): They make adhesives. I don’t know about you, but not too many days go by when I don’t use something with adhesives in it. Maybe if the Genovese-crime-family-connected building contractor had used adhesives, my floor wouldn’t be warping. BUY.
CALIFORNIA WATER SERVICE GROUP (CWT): Did you see ‘Dune’? Need I say more? This company must have something to do with water. STRONG BUY.
BORDERS BOOKS (BGP): I just saw a bunch of school kids, and I promise you not one of them has ever read a book. That’s the future: non-book-reading kids who scream a lot and chew gum without a modicum of grace. STRONG SELL.
WRIGLEY’S (WWY): As I mentioned, non-book-reading kids who scream a lot and chew gum without a modicum of grace are the future. Those little black stains all over the sidewalk? Pure gold. STRONG BUY.
STARBUCKS (SBUX): I have to revisit this one, because the Starbucks near Rock Center was out of Whole and Non-Fat milk and I had to wait over a minute for the coffee to brew. Barista mumbled. Looks like they’ve peaked. SELL.
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Four years ago, all of you seated before me were blank slates. You came here from all over the country eager to learn, passionate, excited with the prospect of studying, experiencing and mastering the great art of filmmaking.
I’ve gotten to know most of you in that time. All of you shared similar dreams. You wanted to be filmmakers. For many of you, this was a path you had taken at an early age, and you carried with you the passion of a lifetime of anticipation for the very moment you’d set foot in your first film class.
Many of you chose the fiction production route ‘ the route that one hopes will lead to fame and fortune. You were the aspiring Spielbergs and Kubricks, Coppolas and Allens. Others, the not-so-smart, chose the non-fiction film route. You were the aspiring Ken Burnses.
You can’t learn about film without seeing films. And, for the past four years you’ve seen a lot of them. Many of them were black & white, out of focus, German, and 60 years old. They don’t make films like that anymore. Did you see that huge shadow going across the man’s face? That represents the dichotomy of good and evil within each human being. Remarkable filmmaking, that.
For four years now, you’ve been taught by some of the finest teachers in this noble field. People who have foregone the professional track so that they may pass their knowledge on to you. People who have chosen to educate others in the hopes that they’ll get out there, root themselves in the industry, and make a difference.
Let us remember these fine professors, shall we?
There was Paula, the Marxist/feminist/bisexual whose specialties were seeing the things that aren’t on the surface of the film. The things underneath. Subtext. Hidden meaning. She helped you understand that E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial was about Jesus. She made you realize that the character of Plato in Rebel Without A Cause was a homosexual because he had differently-colored socks. And she helped you see the light and realize that Luke Skywalker was a communist.
With Paula, everything was a penis. A shot of a skyscraper was actually, subliminally, a penis. A train was a penis. A tall man was a penis with a penis. Swords, trees, school buses, solar flares: all penises. Paula made you realize that penises were everywhere using her simple formula: tall or long = penis. She explained to you man’s domination of women through the use of phallic imagery.
Oh, how Paula opened your mind. Though you came to this school thinking you just wanted to learn how to make a good film, Paula taught you what you really needed to know. She helped you realize that all men were bad; but mostly white, Republican men. She made you realize the fallacy of making films for profit. She helped you see that the corporation was the enemy. That Hollywood was the evil empire. You too found yourself rooting for the Worker’s Utopia where evil, white Republicans would be in gulags under the watchful eye of President Mumia.
Perhaps you came to this school wanting to direct the next Godfather or Annie Hall. Certainly a noble goal, but not the most noble. Paula had you convinced you wanted to direct a not-for-profit documentary about the indigenous cannibals of Madagascar, and the evil white Republicans who made them that way.
That was the glory of Paula. Let’s have a round of applause for her.
And then there was Kevin. Kevin, the quiet little guy who made an award-winning film you’d never heard of and can’t seem to find mentioned anywhere. Perhaps you never quite understood what he was getting at, or where you stood with him, but one thing was for sure: you knew you were in the presence of an artist.
Artists don’t need to not mumble. They can talk in circles, if it pleases them. And they can arbitrarily like or dislike whatever it is you have created, be it a four-minute black & white exploration of a telephone pole, or a twenty-minute color feature about a woman who sits at a table.
With Kevin, you learned that you need not be boisterous and mean to succeed in a film career. You could always be quiet and meek and teach somewhere, hiding from Paula whenever you saw her in the hallway.
Please, a round of applause for Kevin, who’s not here because he’s afraid of crowds.
An education in film is not complete without studying the craft of writing. There was no better man to introduce you to that art than Steven. He is the author of 14 self-published books, all of which you became familiar with as they’re course texts. Let us pay homage to the author of On Writing Films, Film Writing, Writing a Film, Writing for Film, and How to Write for Film to name a few.
You have to ask yourself, how can a man so knowledgeable about writing films never have written one? The answer is forthcoming in A Life Writing Films, due out in May.
A hand for Steven, please.
Graduates, I look out among you and see your faces, and I remember those faces as they were four years ago. It seems like only yesterday that you were girls and boys fresh out of high school, wide-eyed, coming here wanting to learn all there was to learn about film.
Now you leave here, having learned. You saw the The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and the Dali short with a donkey and a piano. You know that Big Ben is a penis. Reagan a demon. You know how to splice. You could probably write your own book about writing a film.
We’ve done our best to pass what we know on to you for these past four years. Now it’s your turn to take what you’ve learned and tackle the world. Your experience here comes to an end, but your future is just beginning.
Now get out there, and start scrubbing.

Barry Bailey (’03, Theatre) and Lynda Krotz (’03, Humanities)
Barry and Lynda rushed into marriage after graduation in an underwhelming ceremony in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. “A lot of people thought I was gay,” writes Barry, “but I hope to put those rumors to bed once and for all. Pun intended.” In attendance at the inaudible beachside ceremony were Mary York (’02) who lives with her parents and Ryan Sarkis (’03) who notes that the vows the couple wrote were hilariously tacky. The marriage is doomed.
Karen Anne Beezer (’01, Communications)
Founder of the university’s first improvisational comedy troupe, “Beez Neez”, Karen writes that she was emotionally devastated by her cheating son of a bitch husband Blake and is now a hollow shell. She’s raising daughter Aimee by herself and spends an inordinate amount of time pampering her cats. She’s gained 23 pounds.

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