Tuesdays With Morrie

by Ann Thurlow

Bill McFadden has been, at various times in his storied career, a town crier and a clown. Lost, perhaps, in all these antics is the fact that he is an actor of extraordinary gift and remarkable talent. He got the chance to prove that again in his leading role in Tuesdays with Morrie, the final offering this year at the Victoria Playhouse.

Tuesdays with Morrie tells the story of Morrie Schwartz, university professor, sage, wit and, finally, victim of ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease. He becomes friends with one of his students, loses touch with him and then reconnects in a series of visits near the end of his life—the Tuesdays of the title. The story is true, though it hardly matters. Because it is also full of truth … about the right way to live and the right way to die, about the importance of forgiving and the necessity of love. It is both heart rending and funny. And all through the performance I could hear members of the audience murmuring “yes!” and “huh!” as if the play’s great aphorisms had been directed right at them.

This is a wonderful play, though, in less capable hands, it could have become mawkish or discomfiting. But Bill McFadden played his part with such believability and such great humour that it was impossible to not to be impressed. He is called on to be an old man, then a dying man. He must maintain his wit and gentleness, yet make us sympathize and rage against the disease that left him incapable of movement. McFadden rose to all challenges and exceeded them.

He was aided, of course, by Erskine Smith’s sensitive direction, and the imaginative set. But he was aided most by his own son, Will McFadden. Will plays the other hand in this two hander—the hard working, stressed out journalist who learns important lessons from his old professor (and who, as writer Mitch Albom, brought Morrie’s story to the page). Glib and sure of himself, Mitch is the person in the play who is really the audience—the lucky twenty-first century everyman who comes up against Morrie’s great grace. McFadden the younger is wonderful, briskly sure of himself and heartbreakingly vulnerable at the same time.

When I heard that this father and son team would be together to perform this wonderful story, I fully expected I would cry when I saw it. I brought Kleenex. But I didn’t cry, not until the curtain call. There’s a piece of business early in the play where Morrie signals to Mitch to plant a kiss on his forehead—a pivotal moment about how important it is to express love. During the curtain call, after the bows and the well deserved standing ovation, McFadden the elder signals for a kiss on the forehead from his son. Will obliged and I burst into tears.

Lesson learned.

A note about the general great success of the Victoria Playhouse season this year. I’ll will admit to a bit of bias (I had a slight connection to one of the productions). But from first to last this year’s season was exciting, fresh and imaginative. Kudos.