by Arthur Miller
MTC at Fairfax Studio until August 26, 2000
Reviewer: Kate Herbert
Watching Willy Loman's deterioration in Arthur Miller's
Death of a Salesman, is like having emotional sandpaper dragged across one's
nerves. It is excruciating.
The tragedy inherent in the play resides in the ordinariness
of the characters. Willy (Frank Gallacher) is no hero. He is not even a success
in his chosen profession as a salesman. He spent his entire life puffing
himself up and raising expectations about his prospects. If tragedy is "a
man in a mess", then Willy is its personification.
As Willy, Gallacher is flinty, patriarchal, irrational but
still able to evoke our sympathy. He is a disillusioned and broken man with
shattered dreams about himself and his sons. His pride is his demise.
He appeared to be an
honourable man to his sons and wife. In fact, he was deceitful, unfaithful and
overbearing. Now he simply fabricates stories about himself to bolster his
fading self-esteem and relives the glory days of his youth.
In his older age, we witness Willy's failing mental and
physical health. He cannot sell. He is on commission. He finally loses his job
and, in 1949 when the play premiered, there were no redundancy packages, no
unfair dismissal laws and no unemployment benefits in the US.
The scenario is frighteningly relevant to our contemporary
world. We still value people according to their earning power, their work
history and their public achievements.
Sue Jones is exceptional as Willy's loyal and obliging wife,
Linda. She finds a secret strength in her acquiescence to this domineering man.
Matthew Dyktynski portrays the journey of the older son,
Biff , with great subtlety. He moves from bravado to self-awareness, anger to
confession. His final plea to his father is moving. Luke Elliot is a charming
counterpoint as Biff's philandering and superficial brother, Happy.
A collection of roles are played with great finesse by Terry
Norris, Rhys McConnochie, Ben Harkin, Amanda Douge and Marco Chiappi (all)
Director, Kate Cherry keeps the focus on the relationships
and maintains and intensity that leaves one gasping for breath. She sets the
play in a stark, autumnal design (Richard Roberts), the scattered leaves and
bare branches being symbolic of Willy's lost years and faded dreams.
Even in his final moment of self-sacrifice, Willy is unable
to tell the truth. He dies in a tissue of lies and deceit.
By Kate Herbert
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