Finding my narrow way out through Broadway's broad Hudson Theatre stairway, I couldn't help wonder how Arthur Miller would have reacted to Marianne Elliott and Miranda Cromwell's gaudy recreation of his eternally ageing salesman who never ever called for the crutches of jazz music, fancy light, and acrobatic movements to reign supreme on stage. He stands tall on his stooping shoulders on his own merit.
Miller's pithy lines are ready-to-deploy, the lead players and support cast simply had to mouth them, not mount them, to convey what Miller intended: William Loman's inability to come to terms with the reality of his humdrum existence, and his futile attempts to make him and the world believe in a non-existent version of his, a ludicrously persistent effort rooted in blatant denial.
The bizzare West End version is also rooted in a blatant denial of a simple fact: that distinctly audible dialouges suffice to convey the protagonist's pain. Sprawling windows and door frames, moving furniture, and distracting light beams all come to a naught if the soul is missing. No wonder, the reimagination makes way for a Greek tragedy that makes the play's inherent tragedy seem like a drag. In consequence, epic lines like "I'm a dime a dozen, and so are you" are lost in the din of the vaccumed spectacle.
The makers and the cast members may have conveniently sought refuge in the standing ovation by an overobliging Broadway audience, but a deeper introspection may yet help them make amends to do justice to this monumental work of one of the world's best playwrights, essayists, and screenwriters. What can be more tragic than the fact that a great work is unknowingly trivialised by the makers and takers. As it is, for a large part of the audience, watching a play like this one is more a staged exhibition of their 'intellectual' propensities than an earnest desire to know the play and the playwright better. It should come as no surprise if they pounce on anything that even remotely sounds frivolous.
On the bright side, Wendell Pierce and Sharon D Clarke are truly believable as Willy and Linda Loman, so are Khris Davis as Bliff and André De Shields as Ben. Wish they had been alloted many moments of good ol' plain vanilla dialogues and monologues - devoid of landing furniture, background glitz, overwhelming light effects, and animated gestures.
It is indeed a great idea to make a black family the epicenter of action, but it takes much more to recreate the magic of Miller's narrative style and technique which brings to life a metaphorical death that wakes up the 'Willy Loman' lurking in each one of us and forces us to seek larger truths.