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All
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All My Sons, Arthur Miller's masterful dissection of the cancer lying at the heart of the American capitalist dream, is far from an easy play to stage. A single location, a small ensemble group of players, a massive change of tone and an amazing emotional intensity calls for a genuinely thought-out, and perfectly executed performance if the play is to succeed. This performance managed not only to make the play a success, but brilliantly to exploit each of those difficulties as the kind of dramatic opportunity that only a playwright of Miller's calibre could provide. The single set, serving as the backdrop for three longish acts, included enough ripe symbolism to lend it new significance with each passing moment - the gradual realisation that the apparently perfect family house is disjointed and set against black, for instance, is simultaneous with the breakdown of the family ideal within the play. The ensemble playing, so often a flaw in Oxford student productions, was here singularly effective. There was a convincing evocation of family dynamics, an excellent ability to adapt to the lighter moments in the script - a difficult task - and a well-orchestrated acceleration of pace towards the latter stages. Within such a good team, it's invidious to single out performers, but those who most impressed each managed to believably develop their characters in the most dramatic way over the course of the play. Gabriel Vick's Joe Keller effortlessly metamorphosed from an avuncular, wise-cracking everyman into an empty man, devoured by his own guilt. Lorna Beckett achieved similar heights with her gradual descent into despair, and Harry Lloyd, as Chris, was singly effective in his shift from an underplayed family boy - led by his principles - to an emotional wreck, driven to confusion by them. Lloyd's acting, particularly, was so emotionally raw as to be almost painful to watch. Whilst this is not a flawless production - some rather contrived violin music served to dull, rather than intensify the atmosphere, and there was a rather unnecessary puppet plane moment between Acts 2 & 3 - it is without doubt one of the best I have seen in Oxford. A standing ovation, inexplicably patchy, was well deserved. Greg Sanderson, 4/2/04 |
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