2 hours and 50 minutes, with one intermission. At the Winter Garden Theatre, 1634 Broadway.
The vast stage of the Winter Garden Theatre is grimier than usual. The boards are covered in mounds of dirt and dust, and tiles have fallen off the pillars. Dingy and in disrepair, the dimly lit space looks like an abandoned garage that squatters might hide out in.
The squalid room makes a quick first impression: This place, whatever it is, has certainly seen better days.
Then, at the end of the superb and unforgettable revival that hauntingly unfolds there among its shadows, there arrives an altogether livelier takeaway: That was the best “Death of a Salesman” I have ever seen.Who knew Willy’s still got it? Seventy-seven years after Arthur Miller’s drama of dashed hopes and stinging truths about American life debuted, the tale of a working stiff’s downfall didn’t seem to have much gas left in the tank. As recently as 2022, a sedate Broadway production starring Wendell Pierce provided plenty of tricks and no punch.
Yet director Joe Mantello’s pummeling revival, which opened Thursday night, accomplishes what this play at its most potent should. Yes, you leave raving about the sterling performances of Nathan Lane and Laurie Metcalf and the striking stagecraft. But, for more than a few people I overheard on the way out, it also powerfully summoned a tougher topic: their own lives.
That renewed vigor begins with Mantello, who is doing some of the finest work of his long and diverse career. His passion here is palpable and infectious.
“Salesman” is one of a number of titles for whom the designation “American classic” is an albatross. Productions are frequently overacted with too much awareness of the play’s historical significance. There’ve been some wail-y Lomans over the years. And artificial, attention-seeking staging can easily get in the way of the characters’ abundant humanity.
Neither reverent nor irreverent, Mantello, his designers and actors approach the drama as a brand-new work. The simple costumes express personality but are not bound to the 1940s. The crumbling environs have a whiff of German opera to them. And instead of the ol’ park and bark, the cast intensely mines energy from each other.
Of course, Lane’s self-generated electricity could power Times Square.
Going in, I had my doubts about the Broadway vet as Willy, the traveling seller who can barely support his family as he lies to their faces about being a huge success. What does the comic genius of “The Producers” have in common with previous leads like Brian Dennehy or Philip Seymour Hoffman? Not a lot.
However, he shares an important quality with Loman — Lane’s a showman. Whether as Max Bialystock, Pseudolus, Roy Cohn or Hickey from “The Iceman Cometh,” no one can more captivatingly spin a yarn. Add to that some years under his belt, and what you have is an especially sad and desperate Willy — a tap dancer who’s running out of breath. He’s also a movingly sensitive one. Lane can be genuinely scary at one moment and fold like a wool sweater the next.
When Willy realizes that he’s afraid of his 34-year-old son Biff (Christopher Abbott), 1,600 people all take a deep breath.
Tending to her husband’s fragile ego like a bonsai tree is Metcalf’s heartbreaking and mistreated Linda. Perhaps unsurprisingly from one of our greatest stage actors, she makes stern Mrs. Loman feel bigger and hit harder long before she obliterates us with, “I can’t cry.” Nobody embodies working class rage and malaise with as much guts or ferocity as Metcalf. Plus, she’s never a pushover. It goes against her nature. Her Linda has real fight, and a welcome sense of humor.
Maybe jokes help distract mom from her disappointment in her layabout kids Biff and Happy (Ben Ahlers). The modernity of this “Salesman” is most obvious in rebellious Abbott and Ahlers, who have both the last names and genuine camaraderie for a buddy act.
Abbott’s Biff is not a Broadway-fied version of what a jobless 34-year-old looks like — he just is that. Could be that his old gig on HBO’s “Girls” helped him learn the couchy ways of the perpetually unemployed. The unpredictable actor also has a scrappy pugilist’s build that makes him physically imposing even though charm is Biff’s best weapon, like dad.
Adorable Ahlers innately understands the curse of his character’s name. His Happy is destined to be the frivolous sideshow to his main-event big brother. The “Gilded Age” actor leans into that clownishness and puts on a last-ditch show to win his parents’ love. Tragically, he loses.
That quartet leads an ensemble that’s sublime from stem to stern. John Drea is the quintessential mean, young boss, while Jonathan Cake is devilishly enticing as Willy’s fantasy image of his wealthy brother Ben.
The first sight of this revival of “Death of a Salesman” is piles of dust. By the time the curtain falls, the cast has not only blown all the dust off an aging play — they’ve rendered it more forceful than ever.
