Esbjorson Does Ample and Timely Justice to Classic Miller

A bolt of lightning splits an apple tree—the paragon of American wholesomeness—in a hallucinatory sequence at the start of the Huntington Theatre Company’s production of Arthur Miller’s “All My Sons.” The fallen symbol remains onstage for the bulk of the show as a subtle reminder of the decaying values “Sons” explores in this electric and moving production.

Running through February 7th, “All My Sons” has not felt so timely since its 1947 debut, owing in part to the current national culture of profit-hungry egocentricity. While the main action is set just after World War II, the play’s examination of capitalist greed and personal culpability is all the more relevant in today’s society.

Director David Esbjornson shrewdly recognizes this relevance and elucidates the play’s ideas for a modern audience through his effective and restrained use of video footage and dream sequences. While such contemporary touches to a firmly historical show might risk losing the substance in the spectacle, Esbjornson is careful to only use these effects to enhance the material and maintain the integrity of the play.

Miller’s writing—some of his finest—is, in fact, the star of this show. The focus here is not on style, but on the people: the community, the nuclear family, and the conflicts that tear them both apart. Esbjornson remains faithful to the playwright’s masterful work, providing the standard Midwestern backyard set and then letting the sparks fly between his skilled actors.

Yet, even this setting, the backyard of a typical two-story home owned by the model Keller family, provides subtext. The fading yellow façade and wilting gardens of this house suggest sickness and neglect, reflecting the stagnation of the three Kellers after their son Larry goes missing in action during the war.

Patriarch Joe (Will Lyman) and his surviving son Chris (Lee Aaron Rosen) are ready to move on—the latter by marrying his missing brother’s fiancée, Ann (Diane Davis), who comes to stay with the Kellers. However, Joe’s wife Kate (Karen MacDonald) rejects Larry’s presumed death because, as she says, “Certain things can never happen.”

Ann’s visit also triggers a re-examination of earlier strife surrounding the sale of defective airplane parts to the government by the company run by her father and Joe during the war. Suddenly, the troubles of the past re-surface, unable to be denied any longer. Responsibility must be taken, and natural order restored.

Kate, who dictates the family’s terms of life, generally maintains the broken, dysfunctional order. MacDonald excels as the delusional matriarch, her grief and desperation palpable in her every word. She grounds the show in its emotional core, providing some of the most devastating moments of the production. Her performance is heartbreaking and multifaceted, especially during those instances when she must confront the unsavory reality of her world.

Lyman, too, provides an intricate study of his character. His Joe is one part Mister Rogers and one part Gordon Gekko, with a hint of Vito Corleone mixed in for good measure. A suggestion of darkness hides in Lyman’s friendly neighborhood persona, the many aspects of which he effectively explores throughout the play. Lyman’s only fault is the apparent mouth full of cotton balls he possesses every time he speaks, but his diction is never so unintelligible as to be distracting.

Compared to the commanding presence of MacDonald and Lyman, the performances of Rosen and Davis as the betrothed Chris and Ann seem overpowered and artificial. Davis delivers her lines with a permanent smile affixed to her face, yet she lacks Ann’s inner strength and natural verve. Rosen is charmingly naïve, but fails to capture the depth of Chris’s changing, complex emotions. Together, the two actors have only minimal chemistry, and instead simply recite their lines at each other rather than to each other.

These weaknesses, however, do not detract from the intensity of Miller’s play and Esbjornson’s skillful direction. Esbjornson’s opening lightning-struck apple tree is eventually brought offstage: many American principles, too, have been shattered in the process, their damaged pieces ready to be reconstructed to establish a more positive national morality.

—Staff writer Ali R. Leskowitz can be reached at aleskow@fas.harvard.edu.