The American Dream: a vision that not only shaped a country and its citizens, but also its theatre. From Oklahoma! to A Chorus Line, from The Iceman Cometh to Glengarry Glen Ross, its inescapable influence and driving force steer characterisations and storylines to dramatic conclusions, both triumphant and disastrous. An arch-critic of the American Dream, Arthur Miller turned his writing career around with the success of All My Sons, first performed in 1947. Apparently, he had decided that if the audiences didn’t appreciate his new play, he would ditch playwrighting and find more lucrative employment. It’s to everyone’s benefit that it ran for 328 performances, picked up various awards, and was adapted into two films.
After the doldrums of the recession, Joe Keller has done well in the aeronautical industry, although his business partner Steve Deever was jailed for shipping defective parts during the war which caused the death of 21 pilots. Joe was also accused but exonerated. Now living in a grand house with his wife Kate and son Chris, all that’s missing is their other son, Larry, who never returned from the war. Kate is convinced Larry is still alive which is why she won’t agree to Chris marrying Ann Deever, who was Larry’s girlfriend. Ann’s brother George also can’t support their union as it would mean marrying into the family that caused the destruction of their own family. Will Larry return? Will Chris and Ann marry? Is Joe innocent? If you don’t know the answers, firstly, where have you been since 1947?! Secondly, I’m not going to tell you. It’s not for me to ruin Miller’s masterful plot revelations.
This is only the second time I’ve seen an Ivo van Hove production, the first being the thrillingly avant garde Hedda Gabler produced by the National Theatre. That production was also designed by Jan Versweyveld, as is the case with All My Sons – van Hove and Versweyveld go together like a horse and carriage, as the old song goes. All My Sons starts with a visceral shock to the system – Kate Keller caught in a violent storm in her garden, battling against the howling winds to save the tree that was planted when Larry was born, 27 years earlier. Her efforts are in vain as the tree cracks mercilessly and falls to the ground, dominating the stage. You won’t find that short scene in Miller’s original text, but it truly sets the pace for a rollercoaster of a production.
Versweyveld’s design places the tree at the absolute heart of the play, representing the lingering presence of Larry in the family dynamic. Family members walk around it and sit on its branches, like designer garden furniture. This becomes visually even more brutal in the second Act, where Chris starts sawing branches off with his chainsaw, literally eradicating Larry from the family. The grand house is relegated to somewhere in the background, captured in a circle of light, resembling a rifle sight, from where characters can look down on the action.
Elsewhere, van Hove’s direction is crisp, clear and emotional, driven by the beautifully unfolding plot and opposing characterisations, identifying the reality as a contrast to the artificiality of the design. My only quibble is that the production has chosen to remove any intervals – unnecessarily in my view, as this is a truly intense play and production which would lose nothing by having a few minutes to regain your breath and pay an urgent visit to the loo. The scene changes within the play necessitate the curtain coming down anyway, so it’s not as though it’s portrayed as one long unbroken event. I reckon something with the power of All My Sons can sustain a comfort break.
The extraordinary cast deliver some of the best performances currently on stage. Hayley Squires gives a clear, powerful performance as Ann, the epitome of reason, conveying that difficult balancing act between being as accommodating as possible with her potential in-laws and asserting her right to live her own life and marry who she wishes. Marianne Jean-Baptiste is outstanding as Kate, portraying those maternal qualities that have always served her – and the wider community – well, but also create her own psychological damage. The interactions between Ms Squires and Ms Jean-Baptiste emphasise how Arthur Miller stands out as one of the few 20th Century male dramatists who can get to the essence of what a woman thinks and feels.
Paapa Essiedu, who was one of the most intriguing Hamlets you’ll ever see, beautifully underplays the role of Chris as the typical second son and people-pleasing underachiever. He is a master of the quietly delivered, throwaway line that conveys so much of the character whilst never demanding attention. This makes his moments of true assertiveness even more effective. Leading the cast, Bryan Cranston gives a tremendous, finely judged performance as Joe; a mixture of happy bluster and family man, teetering on the edge of taking responsibility and slowly coming to terms with the enormity of his secret. The confrontations between Joe and Chris spark with theatrical electricity and you cannot take your eyes off them.
Miller populates the play with a number of minor roles, including an entertaining performance by Zach Wyatt as the astrology-mad Frank, Aliyah Odoffin as his upbeat, positive wife Lydia, Cath Whitefield’s down-to-earth and fearless Sue, Richard Hansell as her frustrated husband Jim, and Tom Glynn-Carney as the seethingly resentful George. At our performance, 8-year-old Bert was played by Sammy Jones who was crackingly confident opposite such esteemed actors.
Issues of responsibility, deceit, the handling of grief; the need to move forward versus the desire to look back, and how emotional selfishness and instability can affect all those around you, All My Sons piles on the themes to create a blistering piece of theatre that will remain with you long after curtain down – as will the memory of those remarkable performances. The show runs at Wyndham’s until 7th March; a surprising number of tickets remain available but watch out for that dynamic pricing.
Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!