There’s a repeating motif in David Simon’s passionate, gutting adaptation of Philip Roth’s 2004 novel “The Plot Against America.” A Jewish boy in early 1940s Newark is sitting in his bedroom when he hears an airplane overhead. Maybe it’s a warplane. Maybe it’s the president. Neither is a comforting thought.
The president is Charles Lindbergh (Ben Cole), the famous aviator who, in this alternative past, defeated Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1940 on a platform of antiwar isolationism laced with anti-Semitism, made nice with the Nazis and began a gradual program of persecuting American Jews in the name of assimilation.
That airplane motoring overhead is a symbol of what Simon and Ed Burns’s dazzling mini-series so mightily conveys: the ominous approach of history from a vantage where you can hear and see it but can’t touch it. It can only touch you.
“Plot,” beginning Monday on HBO, asks the audience to imagine the outlandish idea that the presidency might have been won by a celebrity demagogue new to politics who appeals to bigotry and fear, who ran on the slogan of “America First,” who boasts of having “taken our country back,” who sees fine people on the most reprehensible side of history, who cozies up to despots and behaves as if he were their puppet.
Roth, who died in 2018, insisted that he did not intend “Plot” as a political allegory. But history doesn’t always care what you intend.
In the 2020 version, Simon draws not a frighteningly different America — as in “The Man in the High Castle” or “The Handmaid’s Tale” — but a chillingly familiar one, both in its echoes of current fears and in its evocation of the past. The opening of “Plot” could be any remembrance of urban life just before World War II. Families gather for dinner, kids chalk up the street to play games, “Begin the Beguine” plays on the radio.
Roth created an unsettling intimacy by writing his novel like a memoir, from the point-of-view of 10-year-old Roth — Philip Levin (Azhy Robertson) in the series — as his family suffers from the rise and triumph of Lindberghism: first open bigotry on the street corners, then official singling out from Washington.
Simon and Burns trade Roth’s internal perspective for a third-person that captures the sweep of history as experienced by the whole Levin family. Philip’s father, Herman (Morgan Spector), an outspoken F.D.R. Democrat, unwinds by listening to Walter Winchell, the MSNBC of the anti-Lindbergh movement. Philip’s cousin Alvin (Anthony Boyle) is itching to take more direct and physical action.
America’s turn to smiley-faced fascism hits home when President Lindbergh establishes Just Folks, a program to foster urban Jewish children with gentile families in the country — deracination disguised as integration — which attracts Philip’s rebellious older brother, Sandy (Caleb Malis). The program, ironically, is the brainchild of Rabbi Lionel Bengelsdorf (John Turturro, with southern-fried smarm), an accommodationist convinced that Lindbergh has made anti-Semitic comments “out of ignorance” but regrets them “privately.”
When Lionel begins dating Philip’s rudderless, impressionable aunt Evelyn (Winona Ryder), she clashes with Philip’s mother, Bess (Zoe Kazan), who is both more cautious than her hotheaded husband and less starry-eyed about their chances in a country of emboldened bigots.
“Like it or not,” she says, “Lindbergh is teaching us what it means to be Jews.”
It’s a frog-in-boiling-water situation, and Simon keeps a steady hand on the burner dial, patiently moving through the stages — denial, anger, desperation — of realizing that you are a stranger in your own country.
The six-episode series builds to a fevered, violent climax. But arguably the most disturbing episode follows the Levins on a long-planned vacation to Washington, D.C. What should be a patriotic, educational family trip becomes a pilgrimage to the fallen monuments of a now-dead pluralism, a frightening recon mission into occupied territory. Herman, unable to stifle his disgust at what’s become of the country, is dismissed by pro-Lindy tourists as a “mouthy Jew.”
It’s a depressingly believable horror story, an invasion of the body-politic-snatchers. Even Philip’s stamp collection becomes a symbol of what’s been lost: tiny portraits of the wide world and of America’s idealized past brought into one book, as America is slamming the door on that world and renouncing those ideals.
“Plot” is a departure for Simon, who has not adapted a work of fiction before, yet it feels natural. Simon is an artist of granular realism, and the lived-in middle-to-working-class Jewish New Jersey he creates gives the series its power.
The Levins are a family in full, not just plot-advancement devices, and Kazan and Spector are especially strong anchors. (The depictions of fictionalized historical figures — Lindbergh, Winchell, the anti-Semitic Henry Ford, now treasury secretary — are thinner.)
Simon, like Roth, loves a good argument, and the ones here are all too familiar and believable. The accommodationists believe that they can guide the administration away from its worst tendencies. The resisters debate whether simply listening to the radio and getting mad counts as action, or if more active steps are needed.
“Plot” is something of a thematic risk for Simon, too. His past work — “The Wire,” “Show Me a Hero,” “The Deuce” — is driven by the belief that individual acts can do only so much in the face of overpowering social systems. That might have made “Plot,” the story of how one man’s run for president might have nudged history off course, an uneasy fit for Simon’s philosophy, as much as it might mesh with his politics.
Instead, he’s produced a translation that’s at once fully Rothian and fully Simonian. He hasn’t changed a lot in the story, but where he has, it’s to emphasize that the charismatic bigot in the White House is not simply an aberration who can be erased and forgotten like a bad dream. The problem is as much the passions and cynicism that made him possible: the citizens whose prejudice was validated, the officials who got a taste of thugocracy, the society that learned the norms of decent behavior were always optional, the minorities who found that equality is revocable.
That merger of visions makes the difference between a dutiful adaptation of a great novel and a series that is great in itself. There is plenty of pugilistic optimism in this “Plot,” but it’s tough-minded. Maybe the clouds will part. Maybe the next plane to fly overhead will be a friendly one. But you will never feel as safe under that sky again.
Source: Television - nytimes.com
