Tuesdays With Morrie

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

It could be classified as entertainment, but that would be underestimating its power.

Scott McLean and Roger Simon in the Miner’s Alley production of Tuesdays with Morrie.

It could be classified as thought-provoking, but that would limit its power to the mind.

In 1997 Mitch Album grabbed national attention with his best selling book Tuesdays With Morrie. On December 5, 1999 Jack Lemmon, in his final role, and Hank Azaria took center stage in “televisionland” with the movie. At last count there are over 12 million books in print worldwide. Even though the book might not have been read or the television movie not seen, it is difficult to imagine anyone not having heard about this engaging story between an old man and a young man.

Reading the non-fiction true story is one thing. Seeing it on the tube quite another, but experiencing the impact on stage takes the breath away several times in the period of two hours, especially if its produced at Miners Alley, directed by Richard H. Pegg, and preformed by Roger Simon and Scott McLean. The result: a deep journey into the heart and soul where life meets death head on emerging with a magical sense of celebration for life.

Based on the experiences of Morrie, a Brandeis sociology professor diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) better known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, and one of his ’70s students, Mitch Album, who left his love for music to become a well-paid sports writer.

Technically, nothing is said in the play that hasn’t been said a trillion times before. There’s nothing new in Mitch’s reactions to signal anything new.

New, in this case, isn’t the point.

The point is the expressing of honest human emotion at the same time, hiding what doesn’t want to be flaunted, truth tempered with excuses, courage fed by fear and aloneness.

Simon and McLean melt into their characters with incredible natural ease wearing their hearts and truth on their shoulders for all to witness, and all to experience.

Mitch ended up taking all of Schwartz’ classes, but if he’d had his way, he would have dropped the very first one. With only nine students in the class, Mitch couldn’t hide very well, and Morrie’s perceptive eye pulled him into the forefront. From there on Mitch called him Coach.

With music in his soul, Mitch dreamed of becoming a piano payer ready to set the world on fire.

McLean feeds the beginning narration setting the scene with such ease, there is the sense it is his story, and in a sense it is an everyman’s story.

The two, the old man and the young man become friends feeding into and off each other. After graduation, they promise to stay in touch, but daily life takes over and they don’t.

Mitch moves to New York with a treasured uncle, to pursue a music career that never quite takes off. The dream hangs on until cancer sweeps the uncle out of his life, with Mitch allowing music to be swept right along with it. Angry, confused to lose his uncle to death, he returns to school to Columbia for a degree in Journalism pursuing the thrill of sports writing.

With a piano on stage, under the auspices of a gorgeous set designed by Michael R. Duran providing unique lighting and a comfortable wherever they might be atmosphere, McLean has the music in him allowing Mitch to sally forth with his own music.

Coach and the promise to keep in touch becomes a thing of the past, and the past is not a place where Mitch wants to visit.

Until.

One late night surfing through televisionland, he stumbles upon Nightline to find Ted Koppel interviewing Morrie following his diagnosis.

Arranging a quick trip to Boston, with the demands of his job hanging over his head, Mitch could fulfill an obligatory visit, then leave.

McLean shows it all: the hiding, the running, the filling his soul with making money and more money, the climbing up in his profession, the nervousness, the running, the smooth professional persona, the busyness, the importance, the professional jealousy toward a younger sports writer taking an assignment, using the demanding schedule as an excuse.

Simon’s adaptability into Morrie’s personality, the comfortable dry sense of humor, the perceptive eye he fostered for so long into perfection, the learning to observe his own physical deterioration, his having made piece with himself, all shows through the actor in a striking honest believable fashion.

Morrie wants to know why Mitch is there. What happened to the promise of keeping in touch? Reading the question Mitch doesn’t have the nerve to ask: what’s it like to die? Musing, Morrie comments, “dying only is one thing to be sad over, living unhappily is something else again.” Mitch listens, struggling not to hear. Morrie doesn’t give up, wanting to know if Mitch Is trying to be as human as he can be.

Having been said a skillion times before, one can’t really know what it means to be alive until one has faced death squarely into the eyes, our society continues to insulate itself from the reality. Children are protected, old people are protected, and people in the middle don’t allow time to think about it. Morrie gives it comforting flesh and blood with his wonderful sense of humor that falls easily over the ears.

His funeral was last week, he tells Mitch. He thought it sad people wait until a funeral when the person can’t hear all of the wonderful things that people say at funerals, so he held an early one so he could be there to hear.

Mitch’s hurried up visit gets shot out of the saddle. Morrie expects him every Tuesday, and every Tuesday Mitch comes.

Simon’s disciplined marking of the physical deterioration from shaky stance, to wheelchair, to being unable to move his arms or head is a study in an actor’s highly-developed expertise. His mind knows the lines, his heart knows the expression, and his body remembers the precision forgetting not for a second who he is and where he is headed. McLean perfects the human nature aspect of wanting to look, not wanting to look, wanting to be a part of, not wanting to be a part, until he finds comfort in the dance the old man carved out for himself with the invitation of welcome.

Simon wonderfully employs his eyes and wry smile to demonstrate the inside stuff that paralyzed nerves can’t touch. McLain’s sharp physical moves stands in juxtaposition to the inside stuff Mitch runs away from that Morrie teasingly brings him face-to-face with.

Pegg’s sensitive direction for Simon and McLean keeps the play moving with stunning naturalness.

Assistant Director and Stage Manager Julie Sigala adds intently with her brief but vital moments on stage as Janine, Mitch’s wife, and Connie, Morrie’s caretaker. Morrie wants to meet Janine. Mitch holds onto excuses as to why she can’t come, until he finally admits to the audience his own selfish fears. Janine visits because Morrie asks, and to the chagrin of Mitch, she sings for him. A golden voice with golden music and Simon reveals a shut down body with a dancing soul. Mitch points it out, but Simon gives it to us in a moment worth all of the words in the play.

It reminded me of a prominent actor, several years ago living in a nursing home under intense pain, wanting to die, yet finding strength to talk about his highly-acclaimed career. I wished I had gone more often, but at the time I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to watch what he was living through. Simon’s portrayal brought it home.

Karolyn “Star” Pytel’s lighting design, feeds into the mood with a sharp, gentle, and subtle disposition. Rick Bernstein’s sound design waltzes with the lights as though it knows what Morrie aches to say. Tuesdays With Morrie at Miners Alley is a masterful collaborative effort by a great many people, but brought right up front to the eyeball of the mind and heart by Simon and McLean that should not be missed by anyone whose heart is still beating, for what it says, how it says it, and why it says it.

Opening night gleaned a standing ovation, as well it should. It speaks with warmth, honesty, truth, and humor living in our midst. All we have to do it breathe it in.

Go. Call for reservations now. The world outside your window will dance with colors you’ve never before seen. Simon and McLean will have you laughing and crying all at the same time leaving you want to hug your life from the mundane, irritating, challenging, and magical victories for all it’s worth.