Death of a Salesman

"Death of a Salesman" has made almost every critical list of the most important American dramas of the 20th Century. And countless high school students (subjugated to sit through the show) roll their eyes and wonder why.

Even theatre aficionados mutter, "God, if I have to sit through that play one more time..."

So why should you sit through another production of "Death of a Salesman?" Because some of the performances are as original and interesting as you've ever seen before.

Cast member Larry Coen said that at the time of "Death of a Salesman" the "lives of men went entirely unexamined. Men at that time kept their heads down, minded their business, and supported their families and mowed the lawn... Part of what was so shattering about 'Death of a Salesman' was Arthur Miller was telling a story that had never really been told before."

I would disagree with this. Clifford Odets explored the plight of the middle class (and the lives of men depressed and suicidal about their economic condition) with searing social criticism and the rich vernacular of the common man. And we can't overlook Eugene O'Neill who had long made the everyman the subject of the modern tragedy.

This play isn't even the first drama to address the fallacy of American capitalist idealism and manifest destiny (though it does this very well). Nevertheless, "Death of a Salesman" is a nearly perfect blend of psychological study, social criticism, and American tragedy, which contradicts every element of Aristotle's "Poetics," fracturing time, space, character and reality, while still maintaining a sense of realism.

Willy Loman is a traveling salesman suffering from episodes of dementia, and his wife Linda is worried that they are caused by stress. She wants her husband to ask his boss Howard Wagner to allow him to work in his home city.

Willy complains that his eldest son Biff has never amounted to anything. This preoccupies him because Biff showed so much potential in high school; then he flunked senior-year math, never went to college and never amounted to anything in the business world. This not only reflects badly on Willy, but holds a mirror to his own business failings, which he refuses to acknowledge.

The stakes are raised when Linda reveals that Willy's dementia is accompanied by suicide attempts, so the entire family works to assure Willy there are no problems. Biff will get a loan from a former employer so the he and his brother Happy can pursue entrepreneurship, and Willy will ask Howard to let him work in New York.

The next day the family is forced to face reality when Willy's entreaty to Howard results in the salesman getting fired from a commission-only job, and Biff realizes that his pursuit of a loan is a fool's errand.

While Biff is driven to face reality, Willy falls deeper into delusion and despair, convincing himself that the only thing his life is worth is the insurance money his death will leave behind.

Much has been written about the role of Willy Loman and many fine actors have played the role, but Ken Baltin has nuances that I have never seen in the part before. At moments, this actor has an empathy and understanding of the everyman's plight that even great actors like Dustin Hoffman and Philip Seymour Hoffman did not capture. The portrayal of Willy and his wife are by far the highlight of this production.

Linda Loman is not considered the role of a lifetime. The part asks for little more than a stereotype of the endlessly devoted 1950s housewife, troubling feminist scholars. But Paula Plum digs deep into unanswered questions about this woman that need not simply be a display of blind devotion. There is a severity in the way that she condemns her son Happy for being a "philandering bum" that is startling in contrast to the fa�ade of comfort and happiness she shows her husband, even as he tell her to "stop interrupting."

This family is as "dog eat dog" as the business world, and Linda has made a place for herself in the hierarchy of the pack. "That's all you are, my baby!" she says to Happy, silencing any protestations.

The another role that is played with surprising complexity in this production is Omar Robinson in the roll of Howard, the employer who silences Willy with the same belittlement as Willy attacks his wife: "Shh, for God's sake!" But Robinson doesn't present us with a simple, blustering tycoon; he's far more divisive, gently crushing Willy, while claiming that this termination is an act of compassion.

Much has been said about the extensive stage directions that Miller wrote into the play, but less has been said about substantial influence the original director Elia Kazan must have played on the formation of those stage directions. People also overlook, Kazan's connection to Odets and Tennessee Williams and the obvious links to the themes of personal and social realism that contributed to similar methods of staging in the same time period.

Janie E. Howland and Anat Mano's set design maintains most of the instructions set down in Miller's script, but The Lyric Theatre's tight playing space is actually an asset to the Miller's prescriptions. The boys' bedroom is cramped and the beds are necessarily too small. The effect is that of grown men returning to the roles of their childhood in a world they have outgrown. And the kitchen is so tight, and the proximity between the actors so intimate, that the scenes in this room rumble and vibrate like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

The real tragedy of this production is the melodramatic staging of the climax. Linda watches her husband wreck his car.(Presumably she's looking out a window as she's in the bedroom.) She dramatically screams, "No!" then quickly turns around and dresses for a funeral.

This manic moment creates an effect of theatrical alienation, completely distracting from the emotional significance of the moment. True, it's a difficult transition to stage; but as the action is created through sound effects, the script leaves room for a subtler interpretation.

Through March 16 at the Lyric Stage. For more information go to: www.lyricstage.com.