Death of a Salesman

Saw it yesterday afternoon.

I wanted to love it and never quite got there. The play is all about subtext, and the production seems to go to very great lengths to underline every last piece of subtext with a red felt-tip pen. The music, in particular, is lovely, but it's also too much. This play is more moving if the directors don't leave the audience a trail of crumbs telling them what they should be feeling in every big emotional moment. A couple of the central performances, too, could use a more restrained approach - Wendell Pierce starts Willy Loman's slowly-developing breakdown too far up the scale, and doesn't leave himself far enough to go in the play's later scenes, and the final confrontation between Willy and Biff is too overwrought on both sides. That scene can be an emotional earthquake, and here - for me - it just wasn't.

I liked the set, I liked most of the supporting actors, and everybody involved clearly loves the play. Sharon D. Clarke is superb, and not coincidentally never falls into the go-big-or-go-home trap that ensnares some of her colleagues. Those really BIG performances from Mr. Pierce and Mr. Kene may well work better in the Piccadilly than they did for me from row F in the Young Vic - but still, the production surrounding them is a bit too heavy-handed for my taste.

It was the other way around for the last night. Arinze lost it before the end and stood sobbing while Sharon did her best to complete the sung conclusion. Loud sobbing from the audience had set in earlier. Particularly emotional evening.

It was, inevitably, more honed than earlier in the run.This was so rounded, so complete; the writing and the creatives doing complete justice to each other. Difficult to imagine seeing a better version.