Review: Too Good to Fail: The Lehman Trilogy Takes Stock of Greed and the American Dream
Given the breadth of its run time, one might be tempted to call this story a saga, but to do so would ignore what makes The Lehman Trilogy one of the most exquisite plays of the modern age. Playing at Shakespeare Theatre Company through March 30.
By D.R. Lewis
March 4, 2024
This review originally appeared in Washington City Paper.
Forget The Big Short. And Margin Call. And Too Big to Fail, Inside Job, and (even as it prepares for its musicalized coronation in Boston this summer) The Queen of Versailles. Despite spending less than five minutes on the 2008 financial crisis, in which its titular firm was vanquished in a legendary collapse, The Lehman Trilogy assuredly claims its place as the definitive retrospective on the run-up to that particular financial meltdown. Playing in a first-rate production at Shakespeare Theatre Company through March 30, The Lehman Trilogy spans 150 years of American “progress” through the lens of one family. Given the breadth of its three-and-a-half-hour run time, one might be tempted to call this story an epic, saga, or rhapsody. But to do so would ignore what makes The Lehman Trilogy one of the most exquisite plays of the modern age. It isn’t merely an examination—it is an autopsy. And if the American Dream is the beating heart of the American experience, The Lehman Trilogy diagnoses greed as the lethal clog in its coronary artery.
So how is a play that lays bare the hard truths of American financial gluttony so wholly seductive and compelling that it easily clips along like a play half its length? Simple: Henry (Edward Gero), Emanuel (René Thornton Jr.), and Mayer Lehman (Mark Nelson). Written by Italian playwright Stefano Massini and adapted by British writer Ben Power, The Lehman Trilogy makes quick work of developing the original Lehman brothers into a dream team of underdog immigrant success. Emigrating to Birmingham, Alabama, from their native Rimpar, Bavaria, the three Jewish brothers arrive in America seduced by a drive for familial success. Obsessively cataloging their income potential, profit margins, and commercial scalability through lean years in Alabama, they set the course for their progeny to expand their empire from a humble fabric shop into one of the largest financial services firms in the world: Lehman Brothers.
The young Henry (Hayum, originally), Emanuel (born Mendel in Rimpar), and Mayer (nicknamed “Spud,” not so lovingly) probably could never have dreamed of the glass towers, priceless art, thoroughbred racehorses, and cash that their descendants would come to accumulate. But if the advancement of their family was at the core of their journey, Massini and Power argue that the steep price of such success was assimilation and, with it, the loss of identity and tradition. Observant Jews, two of the brothers close their store and sit shiva for a full week when the third passes. One generation later, when Philip Lehman dies, the firm closes for a mere three minutes to avoid disrupting the momentum of their trading success.
If content dictates form, then, fittingly, for The Lehman Trilogy, momentum is certainly the name of the game. It permeates every aspect of the story and the staging, which barrels along like the machines combing out the Alabama cotton on which the family made their initial fortune, or the railroads that catapulted the second generation into its place as titans of industry, or the third generation’s round-the-clock trading of risky, speculative stocks that eventually brought down the firm. To lose momentum on the stage would be calamitous, as evidenced in the scant, but nonetheless heart-stopping moments when the actors fumble a line or elongate a pause. Maintaining the breakneck pace of the show is an incredible feat, and the trio of performers tasked with stewarding the work prove that they are, thankfully, up to the task.
Gero, Thornton, and Nelson breeze through the story like a well-traveled vaudeville troupe, bounding between seemingly dozens of characters that range from silly to devastating. With credit to director Arin Arbus, as well as casting directors Danica Rodriguez and Jason Styres, the three actors combine their respective strengths to form one exceptionally united ensemble. Well known to D.C. audiences, Gero shines as Henry and others, wandering onto the stage like a lost-to-history third vagabond from an early draft of Waiting for Godot. He then draws the audience into the Lehmans’ blossoming new world with a welcoming familiarity akin to the Stage Manager in Our Town, but soon transitions into a gruffness reminiscent of his Roy Cohn in last season’s Angels in America at Arena Stage.
Thornton is a charismatic chameleon, as captivating as the brooding middle-aged Emanuel as his is the glad-handing New Deal governor Herbert Lehman. And as Mayer and many others, Nelson is refreshingly hokey and a little devious, cutting through the gravitas to inject much-needed humor. Arbus makes near-constant use of the entire playing area, allowing the actors to slip in and out of focus through intricate choreography (with assistance from physical movement coordinator Lorenzo Pisoni). By her hand, it is always clear where the focus should be and the performers serve her well; in their dance, they leave little opportunity for the eye, let alone the mind, to wander.
And that they are able to do so on Marsha Ginsberg’s towering, hollow set without getting swallowed by the space is thrilling. In her concrete box, which contains a mound of shredded paper and simple set pieces to evoke the respective eras of the play, Ginsberg provides a canvas for Hannah Wasileski’s ravishing projections that range from blazing Antebellum cotton fields to the shifting digits of a stock ticker. Yi Zhao’s overhead grid of long fluorescent bulbs executes a wonderful coup redolent of The Phantom of the Opera’s iconic chandelier. Sound designer Michael Costagliola skillfully employs illustrative sound effects and his original scoring seamlessly fades in and out. And costume designer Anita Yavich, too, successfully evokes the respective time periods through her straightforward contributions. Arbus’ production is cohesive and original, elevating the sterling text still further into an electrifying night at the theater.
Even so, the play is not immune to questionable choices. Without a doubt, the Lehmans initially built their fortune on the backs of slaves, peddling southern cotton to northern industrialists as middlemen. Though the presence of slavery is palpable in the subtext, in proportion to the rest of the script Power and Massini largely gloss over the human toll of American slavery, save for one exchange with a local doctor, who reflects, “Everything that was built here was built on a crime … the ground beneath our feet is poisoned.”
Or, as the Wall Street Crash of 1929 plays out on stage, so, too, do several fictionalized suicides that perpetuate now-debunked rumors of distraught traders taking their lives as their portfolios crumbled. And, conveniently, a tightrope walker named Solomon Paprinskij, who allegedly spent decades performing his daily feat without falling, finally stumbles for the first time just as the market begins to crash. One can’t help but wonder if such striking historical omissions and fictional inclusions are the byproduct of non-American playwrights handling uniquely American circumstances, or simply functions of the writers prioritizing the lore and the legend.
And that raises the biggest question: Should we even be mythologizing these men? After all, the full financial impact of Lehman Brothers’ collapse is unconscionable. How many lost jobs? How many lost homes? How many lost everything? Sixteen years on, we still live with the legacy of the Lehman Brothers, triumphs and tribulations. Even as the sharp edges of the 2008 collapse smooth with time, the material illustrations of the Lehmans’ legendary wealth endure untouched, like the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s 2,600-piece Robert Lehman Collection.
Smartly, in such mythologizing, The Lehman Trilogy reliably draws on its stylistic ancestors, from Antigone to King Lear, to illustrate the unmistakably corrupting nature of power and greed. In slotting this uniquely American tale into a classic tragic structure, Massini and Power deliver an exceptional odyssey that neither fully lionizes nor glorifies. Even through rose-colored glasses, hindsight is 20-20. And in looking back so comprehensively on this American tragedy, The Lehman Trilogy practically implores us to stare forward. Regrettably, the very greed that rots in the heart of this play remains as abundant in our economic system as bad stock tips. Still, if every investment paid off as well as The Lehman Trilogy does, we’d all be wealthy.
The Lehman Trilogy, written by Stefano Massini, adapted by Ben Power, and directed by Arin Arbus, was originally scheduled to close on March 24 but has been extended through March 30 at Shakespeare Theatre Company. shakespearetheatre.org. $35–$129.
René Thornton Jr., Mark Nelson, and Edward Gero in The Lehman Trilogy; Credit: Teresa Castracane Photography