Plot Against America: Captivating, but where’s Lindbergh?

The Plot Against America

Pupule rating: 3.7 (out of 4)

HBO

I did a bit of research about Charles A. Lindbergh before delving into Plot. Did not realize the enormity of his celebrity in the 1930s. Also didn’t realize the extent of his political and cultural views. Going into Plot, I expected a huge presence. 

Instead, Plot focuses entirely on a working-class family on Summit Ave, a Jewish neighborhood in Newark, N.J. The most explosive moments on a national scale are left off screen, or transmitted only by radio. David Simon puts the viewer into cocoon, like it or not, and we experience what the Levin family experiences. That’s more than enough when the riots and hate crimes burst into the story during the final episode, aside from the void of Lindbergh being almost completely off camera. 

The performances are outstanding. Zoe Kazan as Elizabeth Levin, the glue of the family, is tenacious and vulnerable. Morgan Spector as Herman Levin sticks by his morals and nearly loses his nephew and oldest son when his convictions don’t match their ideals. The sons, Sandy (Caleb Malis) and Phillip (Azhy Robertson) are key to the storytelling. Their naiveté and disappointments often carry the series. Malis and Robertson are good actors, shouldering the emotional weight without a whole lot of words. Anthony Boyle, as nephew Alvin, has a storyboard that mirrors the series, in a sense. We never see the actual scene when he suffers a horrific injury on the battlefield.  Simon thrives in the crescendo-crafted retelling, which comes in small pieces during the remaining episodes. 

The writing pushes all buttons. But the lack of conversations with Lindbergh, who wins the 1940 presidential election in this alternate reality, is puzzling. There are discussions between a rabbi (John Turturro with a Carolina accent) and the first lady, Anne Lindbergh. 

Why avoid Lindbergh the president? It does work as a method to 1) limit the series to six episodes, 2) maintain the mystery of what Lindbergh, Henry Ford and vice-president Wheeler are actually scheming, and 3) remain consistent from start to finish as the family stays literally tuned via radio about the changing, radically dangerous times for minorities while Nazi-backed leadership takes control of the White House. 

No, everything starts and finishes at the family home. The period, 1938-44, means every prop is a relic. The cars are beautiful. Winona Ryder? When she and her sister carve out a heartbreaking final scene as the world appears to be crumbling, perfection. Complexity. Impossibility. 

But the lack of any Lindbergh aside from speeches on the radio and old black-and-white footage spliced into the narrative was and is perplexing. Going full “Lindy” probably would have made this a 10-episode effort. Maybe two seasons. But this was adapted for the screen from Phillip Roth’s 2004 book of the same name, and intended for a good flurry and finish. Nothing more. 

The common denominators of Simon's story and today's political climate — nationalism, isolationist rhetoric, white supremacy, rigged balloting — make this period piece relevant despite the gap of eight decades. I just wanted to see Roth's take on Lindbergh up close. And I suppose we got it — from a distance. 

As Jerry Seinfeld said earlier this week to Howard Stern, it’s always better to leave the audience longing for more rather than wear out a welcome, words to that effect. It just feels like Lindbergh was used as a puppet in this adaptation, which leaves key characters explaining the underwhelming climax with words rather than actions at the highest political level. 

Working strictly from the family’s perspective still wins. But I would’ve liked a longer stretch.