By special arrangement with the Roundabout Theater Company, Broadway's Eugene O'Neill Theater is the new home for the Goodman Theater of Chicago's acclaimed production of Arthur Miller's great, tragic social drama, Death of a Salesman. As imaginatively staged by Robert Falls (the Goodman's artistic director), and empowered by a trio of extraordinary performances among many fine ones, this Salesman comes as close to a fresh approach as you are ever likely to have seen. Brian Dennehy's grandly idiosyncratic approach, as the traveling salesman who rode "on a smile and a shoeshine," proves no match for the brilliant Elizabeth Franz's stunningly realized portrayal of Linda. However, the overall effectiveness of their entwined delusions and illusions puts a wonderfully unfamiliar slant on Miller's bold play. This is first and foremost a production designed to give full sway to Miller's illusory visions of memory and fantasy.
Especially noteworthy is that this American classic had its official opening night on February 10 (previews began January 22) exactly 50 years to the day of its premiere in 1949. Along with Tennessee Williams' The Glass Menagerie and A Streetcar Named Desire, Lillian Hellman's Little Foxes, Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey Into Night and Thornton Wilder's Our Town, Miller's lyrical elegy to the working man has become permanently entrenched in our hearts and minds. Almost fifty years and countless memorable Willy Lomans later (Lee J. Cobb, Fredric March, George C. Scott, Dustin Hoffman, to name a few), the impact of the play has not diminished. Salesman so eloquently and masterfully parallels the disintegration of one man's life with the changing values around him, we can only marvel at how awesome and timeless is what we see and hear, as if for the first time.
At his best moments in the later portions of the play, Dennehy marks his growing disorientation with nervous ticks. It is poignant and painful to watch Dennehy's imposing burly body appear to disintegrate, as he grows more heroic and resolute. Just as the play is embossed with some mighty powerful visual imagery, it is also hampered by designer Mark Wendland's overly active set. Always keeping pace with the turntable and crossing set pieces, Dennehy clings to his significantly original conception of the emotionally disintegrating salesman.
As Willy's protective wife Linda, Elizabeth Franz (with catches in her voice that recall the great Mildred Dunnock, who created the role on Broadway and in the film) gives a stunning performance. In Franz's hands, Linda becomes a heroic figure on a par with Willy. If it isn't enough for her to richly enhance the prerequisite poignancy of her role as the stabilizing force in the household with fierce flashes of anger, she will surely break your heart with her soliloquy at Willy's grave.
As Charlie, the good friend and neighbor who loves Willy with no questions asked, Howard Witt delivers conviction and the no-nonsense voice of practicality. Even Ted Koch gets an original, gently dumb beat on the younger brother Happy's philandering nature. Others in the cast who perform with notable distinction are Richard Thompson, as Charlie's nerdy son Bernard, Allen Hamilton, as the Willy's adventurous brother Ben, and Steve Pickering, as Howard, Willy's callous boss.
Despite the unsettling activity of Wendland's set, lighting designer Michael Philippi casts some awesome lights and shadows upon Willy's crumbling world.
