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Philip Seymour Hoffman stars in Mike Nichols’ Broadway revival of Arthur Miller’s classic

BY MICHAEL SOMMERS

NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM

BROADWAY REVIEW

You cannot back travel in time to witness a celebrated stage production of yesteryear, but director Mike Nichols offers the next best thing to it in his wonderfully reverential revival of “Death of a Salesman,” which opened on Thursday at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre.

Rather than devising his own concept, Nichols gracefully employs designer Jo Mielziner’s famous original setting and composer Alex North’s original score to re-create the same visuals and musical moods that Broadway audiences experienced in 1949.

In choosing 44-year-old Philip Seymour Hoffman to portray Willy Loman, Nichols directs an actor who easily incarnates the man’s age in the drama’s present day, when Willy is in his sputtering 60s, and also in the flashbacks to his prime 20 years earlier. (Lee J. Cobb, who first played Willy, was 37 at the time.)

Speaking of time, flashbacks and age, I must note here that watching “Death of a Salesman” becomes more poignant the older you get. Like this great American drama’s more glamorous musical counterpart, “Follies,” which was so brilliantly revived earlier this season, the question that haunts the characters is “What the hell did I do with my life?”

Both Willy and his troubled son, Biff, come to realize that they have missed their opportunities and their growing rage over it is directed inwardly and towards each other. Their intermittent fireworks light up Arthur Miller’s masterpiece, which otherwise might be too gloomy to endure. If today the play seems repetitious in spots, and the language a tad florid, there is no denying the grandeur of its American Dream theme and the powerfulness of Miller’s dramaturgy, which melds time so effectively.

Nichols’ excellent company of actors seamlessly handles the classic’s demands, capably navigating the ebb and flow of time and emotion.

Looking like a grey ghost and suggesting Willy’s wearying burden with a trudging shuffle and often a dazed look, Hoffman boils up into a fury whenever the character confronts his dismal realities. But he noticeably brightens when Willy dreams of his better times. The scene where Willy literally goes hat in hand to talk with his boss is a painful study in humiliation that leads to a heartrending meltdown.

An initially quiet Andrew Garfield grows in force as Biff awkwardly copes with his father and his own failings. As his younger brother, Finn Wittrock reveals more dark self-awareness than the typically glib portrayal of Happy. Linda Emond gives Willie’s loyal wife, Linda, a sweet, conciliatory manner that frays and finally snaps when she condemns her disappointing sons. The gradual implosion of this once-joyful family circle is well orchestrated by Nichols’ masterful handling of their contrasting domestic scenes.