Ann Broadway Reviews

“Ann” does honor Richards’s achievements as governor and, later, as advocate of liberal causes. The warm sparring with Clinton and especially their shared reverence for Congresswoman Barbara Jordan is moving. But this meandering hagiography unbecomes the swaggering doyenne who, for a time, outgunned the sharpshooters around her.

Taylor's Richards is a hoot yet she almost gets upstaged by another character, which is hard to do in a one-woman show. But two purring phone calls between her and Clinton are some of the play's highlights, perhaps proving that only Clinton can outshine Ann Richards.

To put it as the plain-talking Richards might, this one-dynamo show — Ms. Taylor is the lone cast member — is neither a shapely work of drama nor a deeply probing character study. But admirers of Richards probably won’t give a darn. She was a brightly shining political star and an inspiring figure during the years of her renown, and Ms. Taylor is essentially just giving this beloved dame one more chance to bask in the spotlight.

In head-to-toe white from her hair on down, Taylor is splendid, capturing the humor, decency, and abrasive energy in the woman while smoothly going from speech to phone call to more yakking.

It’s cliche to say it, but Taylor becomes Ann Richards, mostly thanks to her witty script, and with a nice assist from costume designer Julie Weiss, who’s clothed her in a white, all-business jacket and skirt, with a sparkling Lone Star brooch. The transformation is all the more remarkable for the fact that Taylor only once met Richards, when they were briefly introduced at New York’s Le Cirque in 2004 by the columnist Liz Smith.

The best parts of the show come at the beginning and the end when Taylor is back at the front of the stage, comfortable at the podium, making eyes with the crowd. That's where Richards became most prominent and established herself as a political force. Sure, she needed time to campaign behind the scenes to get voters behind her. But that's the part of politics that's left unseen. We prefer to see our politicians in the spotlight. Otherwise, they look just like the rest of us.

Taylor’s intention is admirable in shining a spotlight on a woman driven by a heroic passion for public service. But the longer the show runs on, the more its lack of shading becomes apparent. She peppers the dialogue with pandering audience nods to racial and gender equality and gun laws. But she glosses over the potentially juicy stuff such as the dirty politics that tried to keep Richards out of office the first time and succeeded when she ran for a second term. It also might have been interesting to include a wry acknowledgment that Richards’ failed re-election bid gave her the dubious distinction of opening the door to the political career of George W. Bush.

One might easily think that a solo show would be swallowed up on Lincoln Center Theatre's largest stage, but given Richards' dynamism and Taylor's outsize talents, the ladies had no problem filling the space.

Richards is treated, in other words, much like a sitcom character. Her notable achievements are alluded to -- revitalizing the local economy, reforming the prison system, championing civil and reproductive rights -- but in ways that are both simplistic and pedantic. There's also something slightly patronizing about all the 'y'all's and 'yegods' with which Taylor -- a Yankee, as she admits in her author's notes -- litters her speech.

Even her defeat by George W. Bush and her cancer, which killed her at 73 in 2006, do not sour her gusto for a fairer government. The production, which already toured Texas, Chicago and Washington, feels primed to get out there on the road again. A 'fresh from Broadway' label can't hurt the marketing. Otherwise, this trip does not feel necessary.

Taylor, who often plays snarky WASPs on TV shows like Two and a Half Men, looks almost unrecognizable with her high white perm (dubbed 'Republican hair') and Texas drawl ('I wudn't drinkin' for nothin''). She may be a workmanlike playwright, but as a performer she commands the stage with authority as big as Texas itself. No wonder they call it the Lone Star State.

You can’t fault her performance. Strapped in one of Richards’ trademark suits, a halo of white hair perched on top of her head, she brings the late politician back to life, dropping bon mots in a light drawl. The problems stem more from the writing. The show’s framing contrivance has Richards looking back on her life in a commencement address. This is a cradle-to-grave journey, starting in a Waco lower-middle-class family and ending with the Texan’s death of cancer in 2006, at 73.

The show would also be better suited for a more intimate theater rather than the extended thrust stage of the Vivian Beamount at Lincoln Center. Still, Taylor gives a dynamic turn that ought to please Democrats and Republicans, Southerners and Northerners alike.

This isn’t a political ad, and anyway, the audience is already sold. How could it not be? With no live foils onstage — another unavoidable condition of the genre — Taylor works the room relentlessly. Every laugh is procured and brought home like pork. And while she is a fine enough actress to integrate that kind of wolfishness into her characterization, you can’t help thinking it would be nice if she could press some actual onstage, co-star flesh. After all, it’s not just a good line and good politics, but good playwriting advice as well, when Taylor has Richards say, near the end, “Why should your life be just about you?”