Death of a Salesman
Reviewed by Martίn Hernández
CASA 0101
Through July 16
RECOMMENDED
Arthur Miller’s 1949 classic challenged the USA’s post-World War II optimism, serving as a pungent indictment of the country’s drive for economic success and the toll it took on working class people in their scramble for The American Dream. Almost seventy-five years since its Broadway debut, Miller’s seminal work is still relevant in its skewering of capitalist delusions and the filial havoc they can wreak on financially stressed families. Director Corky Dominguez’s textbook production is a must-see, not only for its historical significance but for Dominguez’ thoughtful staging and Vance Valencia’s stirring turn as the tragic Willy Loman.
President Calvin Coolidge once said, “the chief business of the American people is business,” and what better dramatic symbol for America than the traveling salesman? Willy Loman is a loyal and long-term foot soldier for free enterprise, storming the mercantile beachheads of the Eastern Seaboard armed only with a sample case and a smile. Living in Brooklyn with his loving but long-suffering wife Linda (Christine Avila), Willy loves the freedom of road life. But he is now in sixties and exhausted —not only are his sales slipping but so is his mind into possible dementia. He is also having disturbing visions from his past, such as visits from his older, wealthy, and dead brother Ben (an exceptional Jack Bernaz) from whom Willy desperately seeks the secret of his success.
We never learn what Willy sells because it does not matter — nor does Willy, especially to those he loves, like his son Biff (Eddie Diaz). In flashbacks, we see that teenaged Biff idolized Willy, but he is now a thirty-four-year-old drifter with an enigmatic contempt for his “pop” that is aggravated whenever he returns home, a perennial habit when Biff is broke and unemployed. Biff reconnects with his younger brother Happy (Adam Hollick), a good-looking but mendacious rake who spends his money on women and booze rather than helping his broke parents. When the siblings hit on a plan to raise money for a joint business, Willy is overjoyed that his wastrel offspring have matured and his dreams for their success and his own may finally be fulfilled.
Valencia’s hang-dog expression and body language ably telegraph Willy’s deflation as long-held self-deceptions are revealed as pipedreams. Valencia can turn on a dime from the melancholy to the irate and even the humorous. Despite some opening night jitters, Avila is a sympathetic Linda, loving Willy, flaws and all, and fiercely defending him from her ungrateful progeny. While Hollick is spot-on as the shallow Happy, Diaz is a tentative Biff who eventually holds his own in pivotal scenes with Valencia. Other standouts are Daniel E. Mora as Charley, Willy’s teasing yet sympathetic neighbor and Jared Treviño as Charley’s son and Biff’s nerdy childhood devotee Bernard who, as an assured adult, schools a befuddled Willy on the true meaning of success.
Marco de Leon’s set, with the walls of the Loman home jaggedly askew and suitcases hanging above the stage, delivers an expressionist dynamic appropriate for Miller’s dive into Willy’s skewed memory. The intimate space offers director Gonzalez opportunities for inventive moments, such as a scene where key characters circle around Willy like a slow whirlwind and confound his already fractured psyche.
CASA 0101, Gloria Molina Auditorium, 2012 East First Street, Los Angeles. Fri. – Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; through July 16. tickets@casa0101.org or 323-263-7684. Running time: two hours and thirty-five minutes, not including a ten-minute intermission.
