I have had the honor of working with Charles Sohn and Jacqueline
Gaston on two occasions and know that they are very talented performers.
Sohn is a technical actor, winding his way into his characters through the
crafting of physical traits in the spirit of Olivier or Gielgud. Gaston,
however, seems more of an inside/out actress, allowing the emotions of the
character to well up inside of her in a way more reminiscent of Method-ists.
They are two different paths to the creation of a performance, each with
their positives and negatives, but the Death of a Salesman that
trots the platforms at Algonquin’s home in The
West Valley Art Museum is proof that it doesn’t matter which
way you move, from outward to in or vice versa, when you’re committed
to your craft, as these two actors are, you will be able to carry a show
of nearly three hours on a strong base. There are other impressive performances
in this mounting of Arthur Miller’s greatest, but
it’s impossible to look away from this Willy and Linda.
Sohn has made his Willy a fierce New York salesman through a distinctive voice and physical movement from the slumped shoulders and fluttering hands of defeat through the manic bravado of his wild self-delusion. Some may find his vocal patterns quite stylized, mixing intimations of New York with middle European immigrant undertones, but it is his concentration in the moment that strengthens his choices. Sohn is convinced that he is Willy, and so we become convinced. Gaston’s Linda is as delicate and as hearty as a spider’s web. Her Linda moves between her current unrest and Willy’s memories of better times fluidly. Where Sohn is convincing as Willy, Gaston simply is Linda, and gains our empathy by living within the moment. Professional companies would be hard pressed to find two better actors in this town for these roles.
Gaston has pulled double duty by directing as well, and where this is sometimes unadvisable, she is reasonably successful here. The play moves along in waves, stepping into and out of and through time without making it difficult for the audience to follow along. The stage pictures are rather realistic, which works with the script though it misses something of the magical in the dream sequences.
Two other actors give very powerful performances. As the father and son team of Charlie and Bernard, Bruce Halperin and Franc Gaxiola are perfectly cast. Halperin has once again fallen into a role particularly suited for his acting style, and Gaxiola has spent the last year maturing as an actor by expanding his arsenal of choices. Biff (Kevin Kaddi) and Hap (Todd Savoian), the Lohman boys, are not quite as strong as those around them. Savoian captures a lot of the smarminess of Hap and his philandering, but his emotions never gel and seem disingenuous, which undercuts his final dramatic speech. Kaddi is great when he’s playing his younger self, but his older self’s churlishness is unconvincing. In their smaller roles, Louis Palmieri is great in making Willy’s boss Howard understandable even as his character is inadvertently noxious, but Trey Clevevenger’s Uncle Ben is a total loss, only seemingly reciting and often stumbling over his lines even by the second weekend.
Ron Hunting’s set captures nicely the decaying Lohman home, leaving a black walkway around it to become the other locations of the play, understandably vague because of the space. Paula Lippert’s lighting contains a lot of holes that are more annoying than moody. Listed as an assistant, Stacie Stocker (who also gives a solid performance as Willy’s gal pal) has gathered together some excellent costumes for all. Sohn’s sound design is strong, heavily dependent on classical music to set the tone of the dream sequences.
There have been shows where I felt every minute of the play as it passed, but I looked at my watch only at 10:50, as Gaston crushed me with Linda’s final words. Here is a play that I’ve read repeatedly, and I still couldn’t stop the tears. It’s this type of power that makes this trip to Surprise necessary for anyone serious about theatre.