The Lehman Trilogy on the West End: Incredible Acting in an Early Draft Playby Randi / June 13, 2019It’s Theatre Tuesday! Today’s show is Death of a Salesman, playing at London’s Young Vic until July 13.
We’ve had quite the run of Arthur Miller plays lately. After this year’s decent The American Clock and meh All My Sons, it’s time for the most famous of them all, Death of a Salesman. DOAS was never my favorite play, maybe because I don’t like death, maybe because it’s so depressing, maybe because being forced to dissect it as a teenager and having my critique of ‘how can Arthur write all these plays and never once mention that he was married to Marilyn Monroe?’ dismissed was fairly annoying, but it is a classic. I guess I’m supposed to say ‘it’s a classic for a reason’, even though that’s such a clichéd line, but it’s true. More than Miller’s other plays, and more than most plays, DOAS pays attention to an ordinary man, Willy Loman, and thereby ‘the’ ordinary man, with all his frustratingly relatable problems and failures and bad luck. Willy’s wife Linda famously states at one point that her husband is not a great man or the finest character, but he’s a human being. And that’s why “attention must finally be paid to such a person.” Her line states the reason for this play’s longevity, and why it’s still worthwhile.
In this riveting and heartbreaking production from Marianne Elliott (responsible for the gender-swapped Company) and Miranda Cromwell, the Loman family is now black, which adds a deeper sense of suffering to the already sympathetic family’s troubles. Instead of seeing all of Willy’s tribulations and failures as the result of unfair, terrible luck, there’s the hint that it’s also the result of racist treatment, which today feels a lot more compelling than feeling sorry for yet another white man. But the universal nature of his collapse remains prominent, with this story of an average man’s average problems continuing to engross audiences. Few other plays more successfully show that you don’t need magical plots or far-fetched characters to achieve magic in the theatre, as the longevity of DOAS shows it’s enough to pay due attention to real life.
Those of you more familiar with the play are probably like “average problems, what?” and yes, he is losing his mind and he does die (spoiler) (in the title) because of this not-very-hum-drum problem, but that’s not the most striking aspect of Willy’s plight. His daily shortcomings and his ordinary mediocrity and his unremarkable disappointments are what have kept his story at the pinnacle of theatre for so many decades. And in Wendell Pierce’s shattering performance, that’s what hits hardest, how Willy is a pitiable but common man, one that everyone probably knows in real life. This is a huge feat from Pierce considering how impressive his portrayal of the mental breakdown was throughout the show. His ticks and losses of concentration build subtly, making you more and more uncomfortable and more and more anxious about this poor man. Pierce gives an incredible performance, the kind where you really can’t understand how he can put himself through all that 8 times a week.
Equally great is Sharon D. Clarke as his wife Linda, which is no surprise since Sharon D. Clarke is great in everything. Her delivery of the aforementioned famous summary of the play reverberated through the room with its significance. She made a relatively small role feel much larger, and any excuse to hear her sing or even hum, as she does a few times, is welcome. As for Biff and Happy, who usually bother me to no end, Arinze Kene and Martins Imhangbe made them come alive. The family’s story was best told through Willy’s flashbacks, shown brilliantly here with slideshow clicks and flashes to represent Willy’s memories taking over the forefront of his mind. This bit of directing was genius.
The only time the show fell really flat (an accomplishment in its 3 hour length) was in the Act II bar scene, when the Loman men meet a few women and flirt with them. Everything about this scene felt kind of amateur and off, mainly because there’s only so far that basic slinking around with an ‘ooh aren’t I gorgeous’ gaze can take you. Aside from that, the rest of the cast and really the rest of the show makes for probably the best production of this classic play you can see.
INFORMATION
The Young Vic run is sold-out, but you can try for rush tickets or cancellations. As is the annoying as all get-out Young Vic tradition, the shows start late as they fill all the empty seats with people from the cancellation line. Otherwise, the play is transferring to the Piccadilly Theatre (current home to The Lehman Trilogy) on October 24, 2019 until January 4, 2020 so you can buy tickets for that run, although I fear the power of the intimate, small theatre will be missed there.
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One Jewish Boy at Trafalgar Studios is Incisive, Upsetting, & Too Relevant
Honestly, forking finally. Stephen Laughton’s One Jewish Boy is the Jewish representation London’s theatre scene has been not only severely lacking but opening mocking the need for. A four-hander (that’s right) telling the story of a couple – one Jewish boy and one mixed race girl – over their 15-year relationship, Laughton’s work is like all our (the chosen our) anxieties about identity and prejudice in anti-Semitic England and the world at large distilled into an hour and a half of excellent, inventive, heartbreaking story-telling.
One Jewish Boy shares the relationship of Jesse and Alex and how anti-Semitism (and specifically its effect on the titular boy) affects their happiness. The storytelling jumps around through time to show Jesse and Alex at different points, from the day she serves him with divorce papers to the day they first meet, from their wedding day to the day he proposes, the day they decide to have a baby, in seemingly random but ultimately poignant order. The key flashback is glimpsed multiple times but never fully shown: a 2013 attack that left Jesse hospitalized. He was beaten on the street for being Jewish, as his white supremacist attackers shouted things about Hitler and gassing (lines that are played several times on the speaker system, definitely necessitating more of a trigger warning than I saw anywhere). Jesse rightly deems this a hate crime, and understandably suffers a sort of PTSD for years and years to come, as this realization of how much hate exists threatens his ability to live fully and without constant fear, for him and his son and his community. Alex thinks he should get over it.
Now I said that a little flippantly, and Alex does give him time (although the anti-therapy vibe is so very British and so very infuriating (and accurate)), but ultimately she cannot abide his inability to get over it. Even though it’s impossible not to be haunted by that sort of trauma, she sees a line where that crosses into debilitating preoccupation. And this is one of the several incredibly difficult and heavy ideas that this play handles so well. Even though I tended to side with Jesse, you see where Alex is coming from, regarding this and all their problems. Alex wants Jesse to stop letting his attack define how he sees the world. As someone who is mixed race, she definitely has experience with racism and with coping with it, and her view is valid. (Although it’s kind of ridiculous to ask a Jew to stop being anxious, like is she new.)
Where the play excels is in presenting these significant issues in a provocative way, where even if you side with one of them, you understand both and there’s no clear answer. The content is difficult because it’s so relevant, for really all young people trying to navigate a world of more blatant racism as well as longstanding cultural differences with the people in their lives. Laughton touches on incredibly important concepts like inherited trauma (done so well on season 2 of Transparent, btw), circumcision, and even who to vote for. (I appreciated the very new bits about Labour and Corbyn’s anti-Semitism in the recent general, since people are still blaming Jews for his loss and I could go on a big long rant as I have before about how Jews are really the only group to be blamed for not happily supporting people who have clearly shown to be against them but I won’t do that right now.)
A lot of the content is distressing and leaves you with a “well, fuck” kind of sigh, so the amount of laughter throughout is pretty remarkable. That’s due to the writing (some of the jokes, my god, RightMove is the Tindr for married people?? THAT IS TRUE) as well as the superb performances. Robert Neumark-Jones makes his Jesse open and vulnerable and deeply felt while also remaining likeable even when he’s being a dick, driving Alex, a vibrant Asha Reid, crazy in the good and bad senses of the word. It seemed obvious to me that in the sort of battle where no one is right or wrong, Jesse was clearly not wrong, but it could be that I identified with and understood him more for the obvious reasons. Or maybe I side so strongly with Jesse because he liked to stay home and Alex seemed like a ‘fun girl’ who likes to go out, yeesh. But they both feel so authentic and so connected to each other’s performances, making their characters’ fundamental differences all the sadder.
The only thing I actively disliked was putting forward as fact, through Jesse’s statements, the dangerous idea that white Jews are not white. This is an ugly battle that Jews face, and to give in to the idea that Jewish is a race and not a religious or cultural identity plays into and gives ammunition to the ever-increasing othering. It wasn’t clear if this was a statement being made by the author or a nuanced way to show that Jesse was going over the top with his obsession about the world rejecting him, but even if it was the latter I don’t think it will be clear to many theatergoers, who might think ‘oh I guess white Jews aren’t white’ (and London audiences are traditionally mmm not the best at getting nuance with these sorts of issues; see e.g. every single other review of mine).
Aside from that, One Jewish Boy is an exceptionally discerning and sensitive play, with sharp writing and strong performances. It’s a must-see for anyone who cares about society’s prejudice and racism and rising hate, which should be everyone.
INFORMATION
One Jewish Boy is playing at Trafalgar Studios 2, the small studio, until April 4. Studio 2 is on the bottom level, the same as the bar, with one 4-stall ladies room next to the bar. There are no bad seats as it’s a small square, but I had the best seat in the history of theatre and I’m super thankful – right next to the door. Also it was 20 minutes shorter than I anticipated so I was OKAY (shout out to Greg Serrano (you know what I mean)).
There is some smoking, not to much but amplified by the tiny unventilated room, which got a little rough for me but most people should be fine. If you’re in the front row you will get vaped in the face.
You Are Here at Southwark Playhouse: A Pleasant Surprise
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is the new musical You Are Here, playing at the Southwark Playhouse until June 12. I watched via livestream but unforch I think only in person tickets remain for the rest of the run, even though no one under 40 gets second doses till August.
All I knew going in about Southwark Playhouse’s new musical ‘You Are Here’ was that it was ‘roughly about the moon landing’, according to my husband. I assumed that meant it was going to feature a sparkly Neil Armstrong doing jazz hands with comic relief Buzz Aldrin as they sang “I’m walking on the moooooon, yeah yeah, look at us leap so hiiigh, yeah yeah” or something like that (there is a reason I do not write musicals). So, it’s not like that uh-TALL, as you Brits would say. ‘You Are Here’ is the super personal and heartfelt journey of one nice little old lady who is inspired by the moon landing to bring a little joy into her humdrum life.
Starring Wendi Peters (from Coronation Street which I still haven’t seen an episode of; will they revoke my citizenship) as a woman who is onstage singing literally for an hour and a half without stopping and possibly without ever having water, which I just cannot fathom, this show was a pleasant surprise, as it says on the tin/title. When her Diana sees muhfucking men walking on the gd moon, she’s like a) that’s my moon and b) I should do something brave and exciting and something with my life instead of simply cooking and cleaning for my husband and playing canasta once a week with that nosy gossip next door (I’m paraphrasing but that’s the gist. Do gentiles play canasta?) So, she’s inspired by this momentous event, naturally, inspired to…walk out her door…and keep walking. She takes the subway (!) at night (!) alone (!) into the big city (!) (Chicago) and gets a motel room (!) all without a plan or a note left for Gerard.
And she does it all with an American accent that didn’t make me squirm! Although, as per uzh, husbo and I both shouted IT’S AMERICAN ACCENT TIIIME! we will miss being able to shout that once we return to in-person theatre.
With music by Neil Bartram, the score has some lovely moments and shows promise, although I had issues with a few bits. The first few songs struck me as a little bit not passing the ‘does this need to be sung/is this improved by being a song’ musical theatre test, although both improved within themselves as they progressed. The second song’s improvement was drastic: it starts with pedestrian (no pun intended) lyrics like “I’m walking to the station” “I’m looking for a token” but then, once it makes some incred The King & I references, it turns around and has a great second half. Once the show gets moving and hits its groove though, the music strengthens, or maybe the show just started growing on me more. Everything fit well and I didn’t even think about the music – in the good way of it melding into the story.
There’s a lot of heartfelt emotion infused throughout, as well as great humor (we laughed out loud at the Bonanza line, even though we are not old). I cracked up at the lyric that drew out saying Jackie O’s entire name with all her last names so it could rhyme with glasses. Brian Hill’s book had really hilarious parts too, like when Diana said “I’m having my bags sent round”, which made us giggle. But the book and the show’s magic is the twist reveal of Diana’s home life, a real dramatic shock that brought an already lovely show to a higher level of poignancy.
In this exploration of Diana’s relationships – with her husband, her moon, her life in general – I loved the friendship that Diana formed with the maid Ruby, or as I called it, “Pursie and Hoover, being best friends” (sing that like Kimmy Schmidt would). Having Diana find someone to help her navigate this adventure brought a lot of heart and love into a story that was already all heart. (“I’M ALL HEART MUHFUCKA!” I know I have cursed more than I should for a play this Safe For Families but I couldn’t not just quote that line; I walked right into that.)
There are some ridiculous parts, like when this lady gets high with a homeless 20 year-old (ridiculous! in a fun way), although their relationship was often glorious to watch too. Or how poor Evan Hansen’s mom was sitting smack dab in the middle back of the stage for like, the entire second half (ridiculous in a bad oversight way). Just snitting. Not even snittin next to Borpo. And Ruby’s cooking song could have been cut; it was very See Spot Run in its lyrics and my attention dropped at that point. Their friendship was so lovely to watch; literally any other sort of song or use of that time to show them together would have been stronger.
But these little dips didn’t really affect the overall quality too much. Diana’s song/s about her moon (Diana is the goddess of the moon after all, or at least related in a triad, mythology is all very magoo), her song in the mirror about being old, all had high levels of artistry and emotion (except that latter one is kind of rude to have this actress sing?? like how very dare you). And that reveal. I pulled a full-on Chris Pratt as Andy Dwyer in that ‘wowwww’ gif face, I tell you. This was a lovely gem of a truly original show and I couldn’t have appreciated it more even if it had tap-dancing astronauts.
