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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