Justice done to a Miller masterpiece

Press, 14 July 1980, Page 4

Justice done to a Miller masterpiece

ißy HOWARD McNAUGHTON “Death of a Salesman,” by Arthur Miller. Directed by Elric Hooper for The Court Theatre, Christchurch Arts Centre. Running time: 7.45 p.m. to 10.35 p.m. That tragedy should be born from trivia was not a new idea when Miller wrote this, his masterpiece, just after World War IL T. S. Eliot had attempted a similar dramatic combination a decade earlier, and it is not altogether surprising that Miller’s first draft was actually written in verse: his problem was to demonstrate that even the most unattractive, self-deluding menial of the business world still retains a.. sense of personal dignity,.and so dignified language seemed the obvious medium.

At the same time, Miller was conscious that the notions of the “timeless family and a rhythm of existence,” which Wilder had presented in “Our Town,” were an illusion which would be destroyed by better characterisation. So Miller needed ugly characters, talking . an ugly language in an ugly ■ envrionment — only then could his idea of human dignity properly test itself. Of course, the scheme

misfired and the play became a huge Broadway success, because many theatregoers missed Miller’s ironies. In London, however, the ugliness was more readily identified and confronted, and it is to this British tradition of interpretation that Elric Hooper’s production belongs. At the centre are the sordid rage and bleary dreams of the salesman and his elder son, grappling with the truth about their shattered relationship. Richard Mayes and Stuart Devenie do these roles splendidly, with a thunderous presence that brings conviction to their often-midsguided determination.

Richard Mayes gives an imperious performance on which the memory scenes hang well, and he also ages effectively in both face and gait. Stuart Devenie at times reflects the salesman’s seediness, but he also manages to retain the integrity that is pivotal to the ending. The numerous secondary characters are, appropriately, dwarfed by two such lead performances. John Curry seems altogether too affable as the neighbouring successful businessman, and on Saturday Alistair Browning’s performance of the younger son seemed to solidify only in the Requiem.

The part of the mother has long been recognised as a weakness in the script, and Judie Douglass’s treatment is uneven, though rising to a strong first-act episode with the sons. As conflicting influences on the salesman, Elizabeth Moody (the Woman) and Selwyn Hamblet (Uncle Ben) come through most powerfully, but ultimately the minor parts are governed by the faltering consciousness of the salesman, and this is always dominant. The number of scenes and delicate transitions make this a difficult play to mount, and Elric Hooper takes particular care with the first time shift, a noisy, dizzying affair, after which the other transitions flow acceptably. Costumes and hairstyles have their inconsistencies, and Simon Allison's set, though heavily atmospheric, brings the surrounding tenements so close that they tax credibility when the neighbour walks across the yard. But to get such a variety and intensity of action on to the Court stage is a remarkable achievement',, and the production as a whole certainly does justice to what is widely regarded as one of the very few modem tragedies on. a distinctly modern theme.