All My Sons Review – The Dream Team stars tune into Arthur Miller’s towering tragedy | stage

IIn 2014, Ivo van Hove’s Young Vic staging of Arthur Miller’s A View from the Bridge drew comparisons to the monumental Greek drama. Lightning has struck twice in this brilliant, stunning production of Miller’s 1946 play – it masters the art of doing less for more effect and is presented in the same West End venue as its predecessor.

Van Hove, known for giving classics his own spin, seems to return here, letting the actors (and what a cast) not only inhabit their parts, but somehow come to life as if by magic. They express devastating truths in this play about the corruption of the American dream The toxic inheritance that is passed from parents to children. How relevant are these facts today: It is as if Miller is speaking directly about the present. A through line can be drawn from the play’s themes of defective equipment being sold to the government, the lack of accountability of corrupt capitalist patriarchs to Trumpian truths and delusions, Grenfell and the PPE scandal in the age of Covid.

However, the story follows faithfully to the original: wealthy industrialist Joe Keller (Bryan Cranston) served time in prison for intentionally supplying defective aircraft cylinder heads to the military during World War II, resulting in the deaths of 21 American pilots, but has since cleared his name by blaming his business partner, Steve Dever. However, the war took its toll on this family. His wife, Kate (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), awaits the return of their son, Larry, after several years. Their other son, Chris (Papa Essiedu), prepares to propose to Larry, Anne (Hayley Squires), the daughter of Joe’s imprisoned partner.

Ingenious tweaks make it a radically different experience. Miller’s three works come with an interlude, but this one passes straight at a pace reminiscent of ancient Greek theater in its fatal tragedy. There is a Sophoclean examination of the family, and what it means for a son to inherit the father’s crimes, and the production presents the psychology of blame, guilt and complicity in an incredibly full and clear way.

Everyone colludes with the lie that Joe is somehow innocent, and every character here seems to know the truth, deep down, and is blind and guilty from the beginning, which ultimately compounds their grief. Anne is ready to put Joe aside Guilt in order to secure her marriage to Chris while Kate, as the most vulnerable character in the play, cannot acknowledge Larry’s death because she then has to deal with her husband’s crimes (which are intertwined with his death). Joe, for his part, shows us how harmful lies must necessarily contain self-deception and perversion, otherwise they are terrible to live with.

The old felled tree in the opening scene lies across the stage, looking vaguely like Godot. The simple facade of the house is the backdrop, with a circular portal that may be a window but also transforms into something more elemental – differently shaped like a sun and moon.

The symbolic sparseness of Jan Versweyveld’s set design pushes the production into the realm of the epic and the timeless. Then there’s the cast. It’s rare to see a group of actors who are completely this gorgeous. Essiedu is charismatic from the moment he takes to the stage, and his violent confrontations with his father are full of danger. So do Jean-Baptiste and Cranston, along with the quietly desperate Anne Squires. Tom Glenn Carney plays Anne’s angry brother, who is also seduced into colluding with Keller’s lies. Every scene is strong, no actor steals the show, and they each add to the strength of the ensemble as a whole. There is a lot of alchemy here – it fascinates and fascinates.