A dusty reproduction of Miller’s classic tragedy.
9th February - 2nd March 2019
Arthur Miller’s timeless tragedy Death of a Salesman premiered in 1949 to much acclaim, winning multiple Tonys and a Pulitzer, and described as the best American play since Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire by critic John Gassner. The question is, does Jason Klarwein's production for Queensland Theatre at the QPAC Playhouse, live up to Miller’s legacy 70 years on?
Peter Brook’s The Empty Space talks of ‘deadly theatre’ which does not progress: “there are occasional new movements ... but as a whole, the theatre not only fails to elevate or instruct, it hardly even entertains.” Brook’s concept can be applied to the dusty museum replica that is Jason Klarwein’s production of Death of a Salesman. It features all the right elements that make up a good theatre production; well-respected actors, a well-regarded play, yet this production is reverential towards Miller’s original, rather than engaging and compelling. Failing to shine a new light through the dust - I was certainly not the only member of the audience nodding-off.
A play or “two acts and a requiem” about the illusion of chasing the American dream, Death of a Salesman depicts the unravelling of Willy Loman (Peter Kowitz), an ageing travelling salesman, who strives to be ‘well-liked’. The events unfold at his Brooklyn home, after the return of his prodigal son Biff (Thomas Larkin), the once all-American high school football player now lost in the world. The play draws on both Miller’s personal life and the schools of theatre in which he was taught, specifically Yiddish Theatre’s focus on families. Theatre served us well when it confronts what society is feeling at the time, yet this production feels old, as if Klarwein has just taken the script from the shelf and dusted it off.
Thankfully, the award-winning television actor Kowitz, was not a letdown. He worked well with Klarwein’s abstract-realism production, playing Willy with believability, transitioning through the character’s life with ease. His accent was consistent, and he had chemistry with most of the cast. As his ‘like-able’ facade slipped Kowitz delicately played out the ugly ‘death’ of Willy.
Redfern Now’s Ilai Swindells enchanted the audience, stealing the stage with the force of an armed-robbery as the young successful lawyer Bernard - Biff’s foil character. Swindells had a brilliant presence and was naturally engaging on stage. His conversation with Willy, near the denouement, was a powerful moment of realised empathy.
In contrast, Angie Milliken, despite being an award-winning actress, was feeble in her role as Linda. She didn’t have the necessary subtle control of stage presence, voice and physicality on stage, resulting in a Linda that was less than believable. It’s a shame because Linda can be portrayed as a complex female lead, but Milliken’s overcompensation distracted from the nuances of the character, as she dropped lines and had a flawed control of accent. Together Kowitz and Milliken didn’t have the on-stage chemistry to keep those long scenes going, which contributed to my drowsiness.
Despite the age of Miller’s modern tragedy, the narrative has much to offer to the contemporary discussion of toxic masculinity. 1 This can be illustrated by the scene where Biff finds Willy cheating on Linda and bursts into tears. The image of Larkin’s Biff crouched on the steps as Willy hushed him disparagingly, reflects the ‘man-up’ element of toxic masculinity.
After what was an arresting opening of the dolls-house set, Richard Roberts’ design then became underutilised with Klarwein’s direction. It became a two-dimensional television-realism re-production - using the stage like a dated sitcom studio. The front of the stage was a desert - devoid of actors - for the majority of the performance. Utilizing unconventional lighting techniques in the flashback sequences behind the facade of the house felt like a cheap trick. The set was the epitome of deadly technical production, void of true purpose or symbolism, brimming with happily-accurate nostalgia. Thomas Larkin amusingly stretching over the edge of the tiny bed emphasised the idea of displacement, and the nostalgia for their childhood. The characters are unable to leave the past - much like this production, unable to escape the clutches of the 20th century. The attempt to build tension through the derailment of Willy’s mind and the helplessness of his family trying to save him, feels like an inadvertent metaphor of trying to stop this production from dying even though we know it is.
Not to be cynical - okay, maybe a little bit - but Klarwein’s production doesn’t encourage the audience to think or feel beyond the surface. See it if you want to be part of an ageing white audience and be spoon-fed ‘deadly theatre’. It felt like a night away from the kids, to dress up in your second-best, drink overpriced wine and indulge in a ‘cultured experience’. Astoundingly, despite these misgivings, many in the audience enjoyed the production, especially those who could associate with the character of Willy - they were engaged with piecing together the mysteries of his collapsing life.
Klarwein’s production attempts to resonate with a modern audience, but there is no doubt it cannot live up to Miller’s legacy of exploration of new boundaries in theatre, unless that legacy is the catering to the singular narrative. There was nothing extraordinary nor exciting about this production - which begs the question, why do it?
Photograph by Dylan Evans
Comments
Post a Comment