The story of Willy Loman, the titular character whose myriad disappointments in life—and impending senility—literally kill him, Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman is one of the creakiest classics of the theater. Repetitiousness, melodramatic flourishes and a lack of poetic language are all justifiable criticisms of Miller’s play.

 

So it’s not surprising that director Miranda Cromwell would want to make Salesman relevant for our era, where striving to do well is getting ever more difficult for many Americans. Her decision to make the Loman (“low man”—get it?) family Black might give Willy; his suffering wife, Linda; and his sons, the sensitive Biff and carefree Happy even more baggage as they navigate the postwar era, which was anything but welcoming to minorities. But only the scene where Willy is fired by Howard, his boss (who’s the uncaring son of Willy’s original boss, one of Willy’s oldest friends), does the subtext scream racism instead of classism and ageism. 

 

Missing, however, is any overarching directorial idea; aside from beginning and ending the play with spirituals stirringly sung by the cast, the play lurches forward in the usual way, the clumsy flashbacks to the boys as young kids and the contrived hallucinatory conversations with Willy’s long-dead brother Ben (whose scheming and wealth gave Willy his belief in the American dream) that rarely illuminate or prove insightful.

 

Cromwell is better with the intimate, often painful moments between Willy and Linda. Of course, this has a lot to do with the towering performances of Wendell Pierce and Sharon D Clarke. Willy has been a linchpin role since Lee J. Cobb played him in 1949 premiere, his tragic trajectory irresistible for any actor. Pierce trenchantly catches the quiet desperation of Willy, his anger and fear of failure, culminating in his anguished attempts to be loving and honest to his family amid a lifetime of dejection and dishonesty. And Washington makes a wonderfully compassionate sparring partner whose moments of pathos and emotion ring unerringly true.

 

The decent supporting cast is led by Khris Davis, whose Biff isn’t as heartrending as he could be, and McKinley Belcher III who, as Happy, makes the most out of the least thought-out Loman family member. This Death of a Salesman, running more than three hours, feels every bit as long and drawn-out as Willy’s final demise.