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Karen and I saw *Death of a Salesman* on Broadway on April 16, 2026. I had never seen the play onstage and knew that a production starring Nathan Lane and Laurie Metcalf directed by Joe Mantello would be brilliant. It was even more extraordinary than I expected.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lane was devastating as Willy Loman. He's known for his wacky scenery-chewing roles in *The Birdcage* and *The Producers* but having seen him in O'Neill's *The Iceman Cometh* back in 2015 I knew that he'd have the depth and gravitas to play Loman. Metcalf was perhaps even more impressive as Willy's wife, Linda Loman. Lane gave a committed and fully engaged performance but Metcalf gave that plus an added layer of spontaneity and a seemingly authentic embodying of the character.

 

Much of the play takes place in Willy's imagination. A typical production of the play takes place in the Lomans' living room with the realm of the imaginary characters indicated through lighting. Mantello made the bold choice to set the play in a bleak, run-down, sort of warehouse setting. We saw exposed brick pillars, a grimy floor, and harsh lighting. It amplified the desolate aura of the play. I'll share a video of the curtain call so you can see the set:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'll give you two examples of the powerful impact of the play. First, I didn't weep during the play but wept a bit after we left the theater on our walk to the subway. That was probably a first for me. And second, Karen and I both noticed that the play made us physically uncomfortable. The anguish and desperation being communicated by the actors was ingested into our bodies to the point where we were in actual low grade pain. That had definitely never happened to me before.

 

The play starts with Willy's entrance and the way that Lane walked across the stage with his two sample cases was devastating. He gave such a sense of exhaustion and hopelessness. Arthur Miller lays things out so clearly from the start of the play - - the stakes are very high from the get go and they only get higher as the story progresses. It was an anxious and grueling night in the theater. Which I mean as a compliment!

 

Willy and Linda's two sons were played by Christopher Abbott and Ben Ahlers. I hadn't seen Abbott in anything, he was outstanding, very strong and direct. I knew Ahlers from his role on *The Gilded Age,* he plays the young servant who invents an alarm clock. He held the stage, he gave an impressive Broadway debut. The play has a few flashbacks to when the sons are in high school - - Mantello chose to have those scenes done by younger actors, which Karen said is not typically done. We both liked having those scenes played by younger actors.

 

One of the most upsetting scenes, for me, was a scene for the parents and two sons in which Willy was continually belittling to his wife. The scene was made even more upsetting by many members of the audience laughing at it.

 

I'm often annoyed by the use of music in a play but the music by Caroline Shaw was essential to the quality of the production. It provided focus and intensified the emotions.

 

Mantello made a few perplexing choices in costuming. The play takes place in the late 40s and the costumes gave a vague impression of that time period. But in a few scenes the costuming was more contemporary - - Linda started the second act in a blouse and slacks combo that was very much of our time. And Willy's boss wore a zippered vest that conveyed what Karen called Finance Bro. He also drank out of a Starbucks-style cup, totally not true to the 40s. Plus the car that was the centerpiece of the stage was from the 60s. We didn't understand these choices but we went with them. Maybe Mantello was trying to illustrate how the issues in the play are still relevant today...? In any case, they didn't derail the play, they maybe made things a bit more unsettling.

 

The play seems to be both a product of its time and a timeless expression of our American failings. Miller delivers a postwar feeling of barrenness and failure, the poisoned heart at the center of The American Dream. That was a timely message in 1949 and it's sadly just as potent now. Those issues are deep in our national identity.

 

 

 

 

 

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