Set in New York during the late hours, a weary man returns from work, his posture slumped and tired. With the vintage coupe he drives and the style of his briefcase, it’s clear he’s a character from Arthur Miller’s classic play, “Death of a Salesman,” originally penned in 1949. The scene evokes the postwar boom era that many long for, yet the set at the Winter Garden Theatre defies a specific time frame. Instead of a traditional home, the Loman family resides in a garage, marked by a sheet metal door and worn pillars reminiscent of industrial spaces in Brooklyn. In this revival, directed by Joe Mantello and featuring stars like Nathan Lane and Laurie Metcalf, the family navigates their struggles within a stark environment of benches, tables, and an old car, all enveloped in a dusty, ashy palette. Even nostalgic flashbacks are tinged with decay.
While theatrical minimalism can often raise eyebrows, this gripping new rendition of “Death of a Salesman” succeeds in creating a chilling atmosphere. It reshapes the mid-century text while addressing the timely question of its revival. Although this iconic play has been part of the American theater canon for decades, it has only seen six Broadway revivals. The lengthy three-hour runtime poses a significant commitment for audiences, as well as for the protagonist Willy Loman—a role that has challenged esteemed actors like Dustin Hoffman and Philip Seymour Hoffman. The story’s journey toward Willy’s public humiliation may not resonate well with contemporary theatergoers.
In the last Broadway revival, merely four years prior, the Loman family was portrayed as a Black family from Brooklyn, creating new layers to Willy’s character and his struggles with self-worth and shame. This new production sees the Lomans return to their original white ethnicity, with the character Charley, the generous neighbor, played by a Black actor. This casting shift serves as a thought-provoking contrast, revealing deeper societal reflections amidst the familiar narrative.
From the outset, Lane’s portrayal of Willy Loman is infused with a sense of grievance; he’s toiled for years in a flawed system, dedicated to raising his adult sons, Biff and Happy, with the belief that they would rise to success. Despite his infidelities with a co-worker, portrayed with crudeness by Tasha Lawrence, and Biff’s academic dishonesty, Willy is convinced that these missteps were all part of paving a path to prosperity. Yet, back in their shared space with mounting bills and lost dreams, this fantasy crumbles.
The unraveling of Willy, marked by his erratic behavior and haunting memories of better times, underscores the tragedy at the heart of the play. Miller’s examination of the American Dream’s failures resonates throughout the performance, especially during the agonizing moment when Willy’s employer, Howard, coldly fires him. This moment brings to light a pervasive sense of white entitlement and masculinity in turmoil, offering a eulogy for a man, a dream, and an eroded sense of privilege.
The balance of sympathy and disdain towards the Loman family is a testament to Lane’s performance, a role he has pursued throughout his career. Despite the production’s prolonged journey to the stage, Lane’s unique energy brings a compelling desperation to Willy, making his final moments profoundly impactful. Conversely, Metcalf’s Linda is depicted with gritty practicality, her fierce determination striking as she strives to keep her family intact, reflecting the exhaustion of someone who bears the weight of everything.
In the end, this rendition, while maintaining its tragic essence, finds nuances that resonate deeply. Though I may not have wished to embrace it entirely, I ultimately found myself moved by the compelling narrative it presented.
