• Nixon’s Nixon
• By Russell Lees
• Directed by Jerry Whiddon
• Produced by Round House Theatre
• Reviewed by Tim Treanor

There will come a time when we remember Nixon only in outline and when that time comes, it will be impossible to explain him to those who come after us. This towering figure who opened up China, secured détente with the Soviet Union, founded EPA, invented revenue-sharing, and laid the groundwork for his party to win seven of ten Presidential elections – he did what? To whom? It is like hearing that Tchaikovsky, whose music opens the piece, plagiarized from Neil Sedaka, or that the New England Patriots cheated against the New York Jets.

And yet, outrageously and tragically, the whole thing is true. To those of us alive at the time, it was like watching a man being pulled under by quicksand. Nixon’s Nixon, which is, except for a few lines at the end, entirely a work of historical fiction (and largely of historical caricature) recalls those moments with dizzying authenticity, and lays bare a way to understand what happened. Nixon, the play tells us, was a man made up entirely of tactics without a moral center. It was at once his greatest asset – it permitted him to abandon longstanding positions and negotiate with China – and it was the basis of his destruction.

Round House’s fine production, which reprises its fine 1999 production, finds a perfect metaphor for the play’s singular insight right at the outset. Nixon (Ed Gero) on the eve of his resignation is enraptured in the Tchaikovsky piece when Henry Kissinger (Conrad Feininger) walks into the Lincoln Sitting Room. The stirring, dramatic music is set at an ear-splitting level, and the President is dancing – as only Richard Nixon can dance. His arms spasm uncontrolledly, his legs move about as if on marionette’s strings, his fingers  occasionally splaying into his signature V-for-Victory sign. But his torso is motionless, and his baleful face is set in a mask of pain. He is separated from himself, as he was on every day of his adult life. His body is dancing, but he has been left behind.

Nixon’s Nixon is an astounding piece, which accomplishes the highest purpose of theater. It promotes understanding – not only of the fantastical Nixon, but of his times. Here’s the story: with impeachment all but certain, Henry Kissinger has taken it upon himself to persuade Nixon to take the final step and resign – and also to make sure that his successor, Gerald Ford, retains him as Secretary of State and National Security Advisor. Nixon, bewildered by what has happened to him, sees everything he ever wanted being pulled away from him. He knows he must go, but he cannot bring himself to do it.

And so he decides instead to plunge into the past, and drags an unwilling Kissinger along with him. At Nixon’s insistence, they reenact his greatest triumphs: the summit with Brezhnev (“I’ll be Brezhnev, you be me,” he implores), the meeting with Mao (which Nixon insists be done in faux Chinese), even Nixon’s heroic decision not to contest the election with Kennedy (here bitterly regretted).

A play like this is an actor’s showcase, and it is wonderful to see Gero and Feininger put it on. Gero, who is arguably the best actor in Washington, infuses Nixon with a sort of demonic energy, as though he was being chased out of his own skin. But it is Feininger who really shines in this production. His Kissinger is good enough to open up our memories: the basso profundo voice, the sighing, world-weary intonations, the Teutonic accent. He also does a brief but excellent Jack Kennedy, and applies dialect convincingly when the President insists. It is, in short, a virtuoso performance, a tour de force. I do wish we could see him more often.

Having said that, I must note that there were a couple of times on opening night when Gero and Feininger didn’t seem to be on the same page. Lees’ text requires that the actors come in on each other hard, interrupting each other as the stakes get higher. That didn’t always happen, although it is a problem which doubtlessly will go away with later performances.

What will remain, however, is the play’s overarching and largely fulfilled ambition, which is to find in its baffling subject common ground with the rest of us. Lees’ Nixon is pitiably human though outrageously odd; he longs to do great things (Nixon dreamed of the presidency all his life) and, led away from the White House, he seems like a child being stolen from his parents. Former Reagan Chief of Staff Ken Adelman, who hosted a forum on the play last Sunday, compared it to Richard II in portraying the pain of surrendering power. Kit Marlowe’s Edward II might be an even more apt comparison: the King, knowing that his abdication will also be his death warrant, clings to power until power abandons him.

As is customary at Round House, production values are unobtrusive but high. Matt Neilsen’s sound was particularly noteworthy.

• Running Time: 1:35 no intermission.
• When: Wednesdays through Sundays until June 22.  Wednesday shows are at 7.30 and Sunday shows are at 3. All other shows at 8; there is in addition a Saturday matinee at 3.
• Where: Round House Theatre Bethesda, 4545 East-West Highway, Bethesda, MD.
• Tickets: $50-$60, depending on the performance time. Call 240.644.1100 or go to the website.