Farewell to a pro

There aren't too many television programs that I watch regularly, or would worry about setting the VCR for (no, I don't have TiVo yet), but The West Wing has always been a favorite of mine. And a big reason for the show's appeal was the beautifully nuanced work of John Spencer as Leo McGarry. I was surprised by how sad I was to hear of his sudden death last Friday. It must be because he let so much of himself seep into his portrayal of Leo that I felt I knew him somehow. He was a fantastic actor, whose thoughts registered in his eyes with a subtlety and truth that is not easy to find when surrounded by crew, lights, sets and a camera. And his Leo was not only wonderfully human, but he also made us believe he could run the country. Some actors get on that show and seem lost in the haze of dialogue, acronyms and Washington-speak. Not John Spencer. He owned every word with a quiet dignity. In reading obituaries it sounds like he had his own demons. A drinking problem that he finally kicked about 15 years ago. No mention of any kind of family. But his work lives on every night in the endless West Wing re-runs (that I must watch if I stumble upon them!). I chose this picture because he is receiving his one Emmy for Leo (he was nominated, I believe, five times), and the quiet, dedicated actor looks so happy for the recognition. God bless.

The Givers

I remember when TIME magazine's "Man of the Year" was a real media event. Partly because we didn't have too many media events. There was the newspaper and the evening news. On only three networks. Now the airwaves are filled with media events. Top 100 everythings. Best of this. Best of that. Constant competitions, battles, titles, and ceremonies to review and honor them. So TIME's renamed "Person of the Year" now seems something of a quaint holdover from another era.

Nevertheless, each year I wonder who it's going to be. This year I was sure they'd name Mother Nature. After all, between hurricanes, tsunamis (I know that was 2004, but it was after last year's Person was named), and earthquakes, that cranky old broad had arguably affected more lives than anybody else in 2005. And, perhaps most important, it was during the Hurrican Katrina media coverage that the American media finally got over its fear of criticizing our callous and incompetent president and his pathetic appointments.

I was not alone in my surprise, then, that the editors at TIME picked Bill & Melinda Gates and Bono as Persons of the Year. High level philanthropy. Debt relief. The global battle against HIV/AIDS . These three "haves" have advocated articulately and persuasively on behalf of the have-nots, and the Gates family has certainly put their money where their mouth is. But at first it seemed jarring to see their faces on the magazine cover. I wondered if their outside-the-box thinking and generosity had somehow been coopted in a way that made them less effective. I wondered if they were now the do-gooders whom we can all feel good for praising, but, with their wealth and status, we'll continue to let them do the work now, thank you very much.

Then I took a breath and realized how great it was to acknowledge that one of the most powerful forces on earth this past year was the simple act of thinking about others. That "good news," for a brief, shining moment, had won the day, earned the banner headline, and made the top story. Hooray for the guys in the white hats.

And, as someone who spends a good deal of time working on fundraising projects, how fantastic to have the idea of philanthropy celebrated. JFK was fond of the biblical quote, "Of those to whom much is given, much is required." How nice to see some living embodiments of that ancient sense of obligation to a greater good.

Microsoft products often make me crazy. I hate monopolies. And Bono's messianic missions can be a little hard to swallow sometimes. But after letting myself think about it for a few moments, I am now thrilled that, for a day, Bill, Melinda and Bono are the story. Good move, TIME.

A memorable Goat

I've been asked to write a "best of" article about 2005 theater for a local magazine. This has gotten me thinking about productions I've seen this year. There has been a lot of great theater this year in Los Angeles, some of which I missed, unfortunately, but one production really stands out in my memory: The Taper's winter production of Edward Albee's The Goat: or, Who is Sylvia?

I knew the basic premise of the play going in, but I was not prepared for the power of the production or the play. Brian Kerwin (pictured here) played Martin, an architect at the top of his game who, as he turns 50, is the youngest man to receive the treasured Pritzker Prize. But all is not well in Martin's home, despite a longterm, seemingly happy marriage with his only true love, his wife Stevie.

The problem is Martin has fallen in love. With a goat. A goat named Sylvia.

At the top of the show he is trying to figure out how to tell his wife. Instead, he confides in his best friend, Ross, who ends up spilling the bestial beans to Stevie. Then all hell breaks loose. Throw a gay teenage son into the mix, and Albee has given himself ample opportunities to raise all kinds of interesting questions about passion, attraction, betrayal and hurt.

What made this fable-like premise work for me were the performances of Kerwin and Cynthia Mace (Stevie). They were so committed to the reality of the situation that it was sometimes difficult to watch them. Her pain was so real (and therefore hilarious) and he was genuinely conflicted about loving this goat. He really did want his wife to understand. Which of course is preposterous on its face, but quite moving when played with conviction and honesty. Kerwin and Mace were masterful and I genuinely believed they had been married for 20+ years.

The whole thing eventually heads into Greek tragedy territory, but comes back down to earth for a messy, human ending. I left the theater asking all kinds of questions. Obviously Albee raises questions about "acceptable" love. But there are more universal issues in The Goat. How much pain do we have the right to inflict on those we love? What would happen if we acted on every passionate impulse? Would that be so bad?

Now in his late 70s, Albee is a clever cat who can still surprise us, shock us, and move us. He's been showing us how dysfunctional we are for more than 40 years. And as I look back on 2005, his Goat is a dramatic highlight.