Following a critically acclaimed run in London, this vibrant and timely production of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman comes to Broadway for 17 weeks only. Olivier Award nominee Wendell Pierce and Olivier Award winner and 2022 Tony nominee Sharon D Clarke reprise their roles as Willy and Linda Loman in a revival told – for the first time on Broadway – from the perspective of an African American family.
A new cast of supporting actors joins the production in New York, featuring Khris Davis and Tony winner André De Shields. Directed by Miranda Cromwell – who won an Olivier Award alongside co-director Marianne Elliott for the West End and Young Vic productions – this powerful interpretation of Miller's classic drama illuminates the dark underbelly of the American Dream and its elusive promise of equality and opportunity for all. Don’t miss the brilliantly reimagined revival The New York Times called "vital and electrifying."
Whether it's the right casting, aside from the peerless Clarke in stand-by-your-man mode, is another matter entirely. Pierce overplays Willy's almost-constant anger - at life, at Linda, at his 'disappointing' sons, Biff (Khris Davis) and Happy (an almost too-charismatic McKenley Belcher III) - making him less-than-sympathetic and, at times, almost insufferable. There's some subtext in his physical portrayal that suggests this Willy may be suffering from a brain tumor or dementia, which would explain a lot of his behavior. And one can certainly argue that a Black man in 1949 Brooklyn has a lot to be angry about. But all in all, Pierce's Willy seems to have far too much fighting spirit left for his ultimate decision to make sense.
Some of Cromwell's stylizations go a bit too hard, honestly. While Mikaal Sulaimanthat's sound design, Femi Tomowo's music, and Jen Schriever's lighting are often very appropriately and effectively disorienting, and a few transitions blossom beautifully into quasi-musical numbers (and why not, when you have Andre De Shields in your cast?), a few of the director's gambits play like just that, as gambits: A key flashback is segmented into bright-line subdivisions, as if clicking through a vintage slide carousel; one phone conversation has an offstage character's voice played, awkwardly, by a clarinet.
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