Did you hear about the latest plane crash? What about the latest protest resignations by our most experienced government officials? And the firings, all the firings. And dismantling of essential federal agencies that protect us from foreign invasion (both human and microbial), our environment from climate disaster, our food and air and water … in essence, insure our quality of life? Even our cultural life (what really makes us human) is hanging by a thread from all the cutbacks to education, the arts, and book bans designed to keep “dangerous” inquiring minds from ever questioning the wisdom of our billionaire overlords.
The post-WWII McCarthy era targeted anyone who challenged the American Dream – aka the pursuit of riches as the ultimate (at any cost) goal. Happily, more enlightened, socially-conscious decades followed. But now? We’re turning back the clock to a crueler, more dangerous ethos at a dizzying pace. Sorry Chicken Little: you’re battling bird flu on your own. And maybe the sky is falling down.
In today’s troubled times, who can we turn to for clarity – if not hope? Our best writers and playwrights, that’s who, because they also serve as humanity’s conscience. In 1947, Arthur Miller’s Tony Award-winning ALL MY SONS (his first Broadway success), questioned how far one should go for personal gain, to support one’s family and legacy versus the common good. Because Miller’s work placed our capitalist ideal squarely in the crosshairs of conscience and responsibility toward one’s fellow man, he was accused of being a communist … as were so many creatives during Senator McCarthy’s reign of terror. The clear message was: Conform to our ideology, denounce others to save yourself, or face the consequences of being ostracized, banned from working, or worse.
Who would have thought that Arthur Miller’s cornerstone 20th century masterpiece would resonate so chillingly seven decades on? Did the playwright’s spirit guide New City Players (NCP) – our preeminent, local professional company dedicated toward building community – to produce this painfully honest and traumatic family drama as a flashing sign of warning? If so, Miller chose the ideal ensemble whose stated mission is to help us become more thoughtful and empathetic human beings through the power of transformative theater.
Mark Davis, Laura Turnbull, and Michael Gioia star in ALL MY SONS. Photo by Ryan
Arnst.
NCP went on to recruit experienced Miller-director (and co-artistic director of Thrown Stone in Connecticut) Jason Peck, who perfectly understood and would do credit to the master’s work. (It also allowed NCP’s artistic director, Tim Davis, to devote more energy into perfecting his emotionally demanding role as Chris Keller, and thus adding yet another high-achievement notch to his impressive acting career.)
Every character in “All My Sons” (and Miller plays in general, notably “Death of a Salesman” and “The Crucible”) presents a dream role for actors. And, as director Jason Peck points out, a grave responsibility to connect with their audience. Says Peck: “What makes Miller so great is he writes incredibly flawed individuals we can all relate to. We laugh at ourselves, we laugh at the universality of moments on stage. More than anything, we’re living at a time of great narcissism, a time and a place where people are focused on themselves … and this is a really important play for now reminding us we have a responsibility not just to ourselves but to our fellow man.”
We’re immersed in the 1947 world of the Kellers – whose family home lies in the outskirts of a typical American town – soon as we cross the threshold of Island City Stage, New City Players’ current home base. A handmade dollhouse from the period (proud find of props & set dressing designer Jameelah Bailey) is featured in the lobby. Taking our seats in the excellent-sight-line 60-seat theatre, we feel like we’re practically inside the stage’s wide, grassy backyard – furnished in white rattan with a large, paned window in back (thanks to scenic designer Michael McClain). Popular 1940s radio songs set the mood and are played between the three acts (board operation by Elon Donovan). But what I find most entertaining (and only later realize may be a comment on capitalism) is a preshow series of early TV commercials projected through the “back window,” thanks to sound and projections designer Tyler Johnson Grimes.
All of a sudden, the friendly, nostalgic atmosphere is abruptly shut down. A commercial cracks into a black void, and we hear bursts of thunder and lightning (a precursor of dramatic shocks to come), all aided by lighting designer Annabel Herrera.
In the dead of night, Kate Keller (Laura Turnbull) is awakened by the storm. Visibly shaken, she comes out back and watches the slender apple tree the family had planted three years earlier – to honor her missing-in-action older son, Larry – snap and topple over. This occurs in August, Larry’s birthday month, which is telling according to her son’s astrologer friend Frank Lubey (Juan Gamero) – who’d never served in the war because of being born a year ahead of draft age and Kate had recently asked to do Larry’s horoscope. Frank claims because Larry went missing on November 25, which is a “favorable day,” he must still be alive. Now Kate sees the broken memorial tree (which she’d always claimed was “planted too soon”) as further evidence of his imminent return.
The rest of the family calls her delusional but finds it easier to play along. We can also sympathize with a mother’s deep, if irrational, grief. But we change our mind when we learn that her second son, Chris (Timothy Mark Davis) – a man of conscience who served honorably overseas but can’t get over seeing the men under his command perish – found solace by corresponding with his longtime friend, and deceased brother’s fiancee, Ann Deever (Caroline Tarantolo) for the past few years. Hesitant and shy, Chris finally admits to falling in love (as had she). and has now invited Ann back home to ask for her hand in marriage.
There are complications, however, beyond his mom declaring that Ann belongs to Larry, and “He’s not going to marry her.” Ann Deever’s family used to live next door. Her father, Steve Deever, and Chris’s dad, Joe Keller (Michael Gioia), were business partners in a local factory that produced parts for military aircraft. But Ann’s dad, Steve, is in prison, having been found guilty of knowingly shipping out cracked engine cylinder heads which caused 21 P-40 fighter bombers to crash, killing all the Americans G.I.s onboard. (This scenario was partially based on a true news scandal of the time.) Meanwhile, Joe Keller managed to get himself exonerated. Though many of the locals suspect his guilt, Joe went on to expand his business and basically enjoy his life.
Now Ann’s former house is occupied by Dr. Jim Bayliss (Carlos Alayeto), who tends to Kate and the neighborhood but feels thwarted from his more idealistic research ambitions, and his wife Sue Bayliss (Laura Argo) who resents Chris’s moral influence on her husband and can be quite the snake when it suits her selfish ambitions. Offering a welcome breath of fresh air is Lydia Lubey (Kristi Rose Mills), another young friend of Chris’s and Ann’s. Lydia married Frank when others left for war, including her former beau (and Ann’s older brother) George Deever (Brandon Campbell), a WWII veteran who went on to become a successful New York attorney. Lydia serves as a model of domestic tranquility despite having given birth to three children in quick succession.
When Ann’s brother George suddenly pays a surprise visit, all hell breaks loose (nothing to do with his former girlfriend). There is a steady churn throughout the play from warm scenes of neighborly friendship and domesticity to brewing fault lines that shudder, crack, and ultimately explode. Arthur Miller’s incredibly deft and pithy dialogue, brimming with wisdom and wit, alternately brings us to laughter, deep recognition, dread, and poignant sympathy. No matter what happens, we remain breathlessly engaged with this play. A lifetime of revelations flies by in two hours and 30 minutes (with one 15-minute intermission). I couldn’t believe an hour had passed when intermission came after the first act. I almost didn’t want to get up and stretch … and couldn’t wait for more.
I won’t get into the details of what happens because if you don’t know (and even if you do), the play builds toward so many intense and shocking surprises, and you’ll be catching your breath so often (do bring tissues), that when it’s over you’ll feel completely overwhelmed – in a good way – by a stupendous theatrical experience. Everyone should see this play – for its incredibly timely message and, even more, for the special opportunity of experiencing one of America’s greatest plays performed by some of South Florida’s greatest actors who make the master proud. They were all on top of their game and, I’m sure, honored to be working with such iconic material.
Many had worked on NCP productions before and/or were ensemble members, which likely made their job easier and even more rewarding. I’ll once again compliment Timothy Mark Davis for his extraordinary rendition of Chris Keller. I still don’t know how he managed to physically and emotionally pour his guts out in the final scene … only to politely address us, mere minutes later, at Sunday’s Talk Back. When asked, he explained that he’s able to compartmentalize. I’m still in awe.
And Michael Gioia, who sacrificed his beard (it was worth it!) to become practically unrecognizable as himself but totally Joe Keller was absolutely amazing in this multidimensional role. You made us like the friendly, playful-with-the-neighbor-kids man so much, it was all that more painful to watch your bubble burst. And what a profound, and often times relatable, relationship you had with Laura Turnbull, as your wife, Kate.
For over the past year I’d joked (but it’s actually true) that I could have been seen as stalking Laura Turnbull by reviewing most every play she appears in – and they are always excellent choices. Not the least of which is because she plays a leading role. Yet I almost never see “Laura” – just her character, utterly believable in all its complexity, no matter who she portrays. Thank you, Laura, for making my job of deciding what to see next so easy!
moment before the crash. Photo by Ryan Arnst.
