“A Letter to Lyndon B. Johnson or God: Whoever Reads This First”, King’s Head Theatre
Jeremy Malies in north London
10 September 2024
Accustomed to tricksy titles at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe where I missed this play, I came here worried that there would be no mention of Lyndon Johnson. There is in fact a good deal; more than enough to frame this discussion of gender stereotyping, imperialism, and ready-to-go youth soldiers.
Using clowning techniques to show the vulnerability of their characters without needing lengthy monologues or asides, Natasha Roland and Xhloe Rice take us from a Norman Rockwell idealized childhood environment of hideouts, bamboo rod fishing, and spit-shake alliances to a blood oath between two Vietnam rookies on a jungle battlefield.
Unless I’m misinterpreting them, Roland and Rice (who also wrote the show together) draw a connection between Boy Scouts of America and boys who (a few years later) would have volunteered rather than waiting for the Vietnam draft and would have excelled at bootcamp as a result of their scout training. The writer-performers are concerned that scouting back home in the US being followed by scouting for Viet Cong in paddy fields became too obvious as a progression.
That is probably a simple historical fact. Always reflective and measured as writers, I’m sure that Roland and Rice have focused on a point in time. They would not level similar criticisms at present-day scouting and similar organizations such as Alert Cadet and AWANA in which boys and girls train together. This play needs to be seen in its period, roughly 1963–1970. But the sophisticated script draws a few contemporary parallels, and we are prompted to think of petrified young Russian conscripts in Ukraine.
By depicting two pre-adolescence boys in scraps for bragging rights, Roland and Rice make us think about stereotypical nostalgic views of boyhood in a way that two male performers could never do. This is a brave, straightforward project of total sincerity and zero artifice. It is acted close to us, in the round, and with no scenery. The only item is a huge truck tyre which the actors use with precision and exact timing. In other scenes, their own bodies are props.
The boys are shown being raised in what we would now call a “flyover state”. The youngsters learn that Lyndon Johnson’s campaign train (or maybe it’s just a general PR exercise) will be passing through their hick town. Rice clambers on top of a station building to give the leader of the free world a trumpet salute. The scene is truly affecting with the Oath of Allegiance being modified to involve Johnson himself. There is deliberate bathos for comic effect. The script is technically accomplished, modulating its mood and genre. It is also non-linear and we flit between the two time schemes.
Across what is normally 50 minutes (the night I attended there was a break when an audience member fell ill) I didn’t detect a single slack moment, predictable turn of events or lazy option. The actors’ ability to immerse us again after the interruption emphasized their technique and charisma. This is an outstanding fusion of script with acting of great physicality, and of course since the performers have written the piece there is no distance between character and lines spoken.
Lighting (design by Angelo Sagnelli) is restrained until pulsed beams are projected from floor level to suggest a strafing attack. The costumes have what seem like authentic badges, but I’d defy anybody to tie them down to organization or regiment. This means that they can serve as scout uniform and military fatigues. It’s another example of stagecraft. I was moved when the youths agree that to be properly male you never hold hands except in extremis. Overseas in battle conditions, they hold hands at a climactic moment. You could go backwards on this as well; Trojan soldiers – often little more than boys – would hold hands and comb each other’s hair before battle.
Both actors play harmonica in great swooping lilts. When they play together there are intricate moments with one carrying the melody and the other riffing. Cleverly, we hear recognizable Beatles hits but only instrumental snatches, this being another example of rigour and restraint. Sound design has the chirruping of mosquitoes and ominous tones from the forest canopy.
Lyndon Johnson never got the peace with honour that he sought and was more successful with civil rights and his Great Society. The script might perhaps make a nod to two significant facts. Johnson inherited an unholy mess from Kennedy and the really vile elements of the Vietnam campaign were down to Nixon and Kissinger.
Roland and Rice both come from service families. They will have lived some of this and researched other strands. The play won them a third consecutive Fringe First at Edinburgh. The script is elegant without being mannered, and the close physical work (it’s often down to a split second for the partner to be there) seems to balance the whole space around them. I’m now glad that I didn’t see this amid an Edinburgh scrum (the venue was often sold out) and could give this marvellous play the attention it deserves.
