“Any day with Arthur Miller in the house is a good day.” A director pal of mine recently uttered these words during a discussion about theater. Saturday turned out to be that very good day at the Mark Taper Forum as Arthur Miller’s The Price opened to an expectant crowd. Five minutes into the first act I was alarmed; the pacing was off. I felt my husband Thom tense up in his seat beside me. Whether it was opening night jitters or a misstep by Director Garry Hynes, Esther (Kate Burton) and Victor Franz (Sam Robards) poked along through text that ought to fly off the page. Soon, though, they found their stride and so began the peeling back of the many layers of one of Miller’s most complex family dramas.
The Price opened on Broadway on February 7th, 1968, and ran for 429 performances earning two Tony Award nominations, for Best Play and Best Scenic Design. No wonder. Miller’s story of two estranged brothers who come together to settle their father’s estate digs deep beneath the surface of their wounded exteriors, excavating the ground of their wretched beginnings, the choices they made as young men, and a long overdue reckoning of family myths. The play pops with authenticity because like the deceased father of the story, Miller’s own immigrant father lost his fortune in the Crash of 1929 leaving the family’s younger son to take up menial work to help.
Showing every bit of her pedigree and resume, Kate Burton moves Esther back and forth between disdainful drinking wife with one foot perpetually out the door, and caring life partner — keeping us wondering until the final scene which of her selves will win out. Sam Robards plants Victor in a garden of resentment with roots so large they rupture the ground for all to see, but also so entrenched they cannot be unearthed. His bitter resolve is such a force it sparks the desire to call out, “for the love of God, forgive him!” John Bedford Lloyd resists any temptation to prematurely reveal the many complexities of Walter, instead showing shadow and light, accuser and confessor all in perfect concert with the text. Smart actor.
Throughout it all, eighty-nine-year-old antique appraiser/furniture salesman Gregory Solomon (Alan Mandell) connives to relieve the family estate of its valuable antique furniture. What a wonder is Mandell stretching and reaching past clichés of “little old man.” Loveable throughout, his last scene shocks in the revelation of Soloman’s true nature—and ours.
Director Garry Hynes has brought out of his actors the complexities of Miller’s rich characters but he seems to have put a damper on the final confrontation between them. A 1967 play does not employ the F-bomb, but Victor’s animus toward his brother ought to have been dripping with that subtext. Hynes stopped short of letting the lid fly off of the pressure cooker of Victor’s emotions.
Matt Saunders’ set is startling, somehow melding realism and symbolism into one slice of time. Tip of the hat to Meg Fister for spot on casting. Note to the Taper, whether it is artistic choice or a lack of technology, there is no excuse that Alan Mandell’s full performance could not be heard throughout the house. Much smaller ninety-nine-seat Equity waiver theaters often employ microphones. Surely the Taper can make use of them when necessary, as has been the case several times in recent Taper history.
The Price was Miller’s biggest hit since Death of Salesman and is arguably even more laser-focused on the ravages of familial grief, long held family myths, and the consequences of choices made in defense of deep emotional wounds. It is as powerful and as meaningful today as it was in 1967. Indeed, any day with Arthur Miller in the house is a good day. Don’t miss this one.