Death of a Salesman WYP May 26^th

It’s always instructive to look at a familiar object with a fresh eye. Like many English literature students “Death Of A Salesman” was one of the books that we looked at, although not a set text and I went along the other night under the impression that it would be a lecture on the American Dream, and what happens to those who fail to make the grade. I must have been half awake because I seem to have completely forgotten the key familial issues and self-delusion which seemed to be more prominent in this excellent production.

For those who don’t know the plot of Arthur Miller’s famous play, the salesman in question is Willy Loman, who sees himself as a “well-liked” man who is a travelling salesman. Unfortunately for him, he is travelling in New England and lives in Brooklyn. The play begins with the start of his mental disintegration after he returns early from a trip having nearly had a couple of accidents on the road. It soon becomes clear that his explanation of absent mindedness is not all that it seems. His long-suffering wife also has to put up with her two sons, Biff and Happy, the former a drifter who can’t hold down a job and the latter a philandering under-achiever.

The overall theme is plain enough – the American Dream of prosperity and success coming to those who work hard doesn’t take account of the fact that you can work hard, try to raise your children the right way, be a good law-abiding citizen and still fail, in which case The Man will grind you to dust. But it was really only on Wednesday that I saw that the real theme is delusion, especially self-delusion.

Because Willy isn’t really a good man. In his own words about someone else, he’s liked, but not “well-liked.” He cheated on his wife at least once, and it was Biff’s accidental discovery of this that really caused the rupture of his relationship with his eldest son. And I realised that poor Happy is actually disregarded by both parents (as a middle child I sympathised) because it’s Biff that counts most to them. Happy is truly the most ironic name in theatre. Another delusion – because Biff was the handsome, championship winning quarterback who all the girls chased, he was certain to be a success as Willy believes that its personal relationships that open doors. Instead, it’s dull cousin Ben who is the success in life, because actually it’s ability that matters in the real world. He also believes that because he knew his current manager’s father his plea for a desk job in New York would be approved. It isn’t. Willy’s not even a particularly good salesman – he boasts earlier that he is waved straight through to the buyers when he comes to town in New England. It seems that actually that happened once, the day after his liaison with a woman in a Boston motel. Now, he can’t sell enough to pay the bills and constantly ‘borrows’ from his neighbour.

Everything unravels at what is supposed to be a celebratory meal in a diner, which ends with Willy being deserted by his children and finally Willy deliberately crashes his car as the only way out of his torment.

A fine production – the seed bed Willy optimistically begins in his yard is turned into his grave and the acting is excellent throughout, especially Phillip Jackson as Willy and Lex Shrapnel as Biff. The constant timeshifts and ‘voices off’ is evidence of a sophistication in form that was truly groundbreaking at the time and demands full attention. This time, I managed it.