Ivo Van Hove slams Arthur Miller’s
play to the Young Vic stage, a simmering, foreboding take on ‘the American
Dream’ which continues to hit home and spurt relevance sixty years after it was
written and a few thousand miles away from the city in questions. Recently
commenting on this production in the Guardian, Van Hove claimed, “my aim is the
ultimate production”, whilst the performances are toe-curlingly brilliant,
erupting a bubbling pit of jealousy, hardship, cabin fever and frustration, Van
Hove’s excellent production is crushingly relegated to at least the
‘penultimate’ by sadly ill-fitting choices of design and soundtrack.
In light of the passing of the
gay marriage bill in the last month, Eddie’s allusions to Rodolfo’s
homosexuality and being “not right”, are particularly relevant, evoking more
than a few self-conscious titters around the audience, Van Hove adapts these
lines beautifully, acknowledging Eddie’s ignorance whilst also implying that
his prejudicial views are far from unusual. Van Hove’s direction is flawless (bar
a prolonged ‘awkward conversation’ scene that should have stayed in the
rehearsal room), and Mark Strong broods onstage as an utterly terrifying Eddie.
One half-expected him to leap-frog the stage and unleash a murderous brawl in
the front row. A caged animal imprisoned by his own obsession, simmering
violence and inner-turmoil; there’s no need to wait until the first punch is
thrown an hour or so in, the violence seeps out of Eddie the second the lights
come up.
As mentioned initially,
objections are from a technical perspective. Whilst the sparse, clean-cut lines
are indicative of a community unaccustomed to luxury, scraping by what they
can. Miller’s play centres on a cramped, deprived microcosm in flux, where a
sheltered ward, to the bubbling, fermenting near-incestuous dismay of her
guardian is exposed to the bright lights of the city and the lurid vividness of
first love. As said above, the acting, spot on. Whilst simplicity can indeed ensure
that style doesn’t deviate from grittier substance, Jan Versweyveld’s clean
black and white lines divorce the story from its heady, atmospheric context,
depriving the audience of a gritty insight into the collision of grime, sweat
and hardship with hope, big-city and bright lights.
Similarly, whilst a drumming
motif works throughout to an extent, and a choral soundtrack adds a certain
ambience evoking the clash of Italian Catholicism with modern America, it’s all
just a bit much. The constant drumming feels too much like a rehearsal
technique that’s slipped into the end product whilst the amped up music in the
famous ‘chair’ scene, elicited a wave of hearty laughter rather than the loom
of foreboding violence which Van Hove presumably intended.
Don’t get me wrong, this was pretty good. However, can the drums and pipe down the music a little and Van Hove
could have had the “ultimate production” for which he strived. 3/5
