A life less ordinary

Seacoast Rep.’s Salesman hits home

By Katherine Joyce

Death of a Salesman plays at Seacoast Repertory Theatre, in Portsmouth, through Dec. 2. Call (603) 433-4472.

LOSING IT: Bill Humphreys as Willy Loman in his last days.

Death of a Salesman is an American classic. And like most American literature, it is depressing. I’m not kidding. This show is full of the kind of helplessness we work all of our lives to avoid. So why is the play a classic? Because we all want to leave our mark, and most of us would prefer not to be considered ordinary.

We share these desires with Willy Loman, a traveling salesman at the end of his less-than-successful career. Loman has led an ordinary life. He worked, he struggled to pay the bills, he loved his wife and his children. It was not enough for him. Loman’s refusal to be “a dime a dozen” makes his ordinariness all the more tragic.

Loman and his wife live in the small, two-bedroom house where they raised their two boys. Their sons are now grown and have moved out on their own, with varying degrees of success. He and his wife live a lower-middle class life (or an upper-lower class life). A refrigerator, a telephone, and a car are the luxuries of their modern world. After 34 years with the same firm, 63-year-old Loman’s commission doesn’t even cover the barest essentials. He is reduced to borrowing money each week from a neighbor, simply to make ends meet.

There was, however, a time in Loman’s life when he had potential. He had opportunities. An equally important time in his life was when his boys had potential. He would have been a success if they had been. He had looked forward to being the impetus behind their success at the very things at which he had failed. In the twilight of his life, these are the memories to which Loman clings. He spends much time dwelling in the past, when life was good and there was something to which he could look forward. He remembers opportunities he passed up. He remembers the affection of his children, how strong and promising they were. Much to his family’s chagrin, he often interacts with these memories as if they are happening now. His life becomes a mix of the past and the present, and the present is beginning to fall apart.

Mary Houston’s set reflects this decay in Loman’s life. It is a small home, which looks as if it once was nice, but is beginning to come apart and look shabby. The rooms are delineated with different levels, and crumbling portions of wall support the incomplete doorways. The lighting is simple and appropriate, using white and blue to illuminate both the natural and the dramatic.

The costumes are sufficient, though there are some inconsistencies that detract from the authenticity of the characters. In particular, Willy’s clothing, and the clothing of his sons when they dress up, is very fashionable and expensive-looking. Seeing them wearing those clothes in the midst of such financial strife is wholly unbelievable. The other costumes are believable, lending an air of poverty or wealth, as appropriate.

To his credit, actor Bill Humphreys gets inside of Willy Loman’s mind, steps into a life where Loman spends all of his energy just getting by, leaving no time for him to be extraordinary. Humphreys does this with compassion and skill. His sincerity is winning. He is utterly sympathetic. His ability to live in past and present worlds at once is a feat. It is simply his demeanor that betrays him.

Loman is a poor, uneducated New Yorker. Humphreys naturally holds himself and speaks like an educated and articulate man. The poor grammar of the dialogue sounds out of place coming from his mouth. And the costumes don’t help Humphreys look the role. He looks like a businessman, but not the kind that can’t even scrape up enough money to pay his insurance premium.

Linda Loman (played by Kathy Somssich) is also a difficult role to play. The script gives no clue as to what Miller thought of her as he was writing her character, and that ambiguity leaves the burden of character creation on the shoulders of the actor and the director. However, there is one certainty in Linda’s character. Her relationship with Willy is written to be as much sexual as supportive of Willy.

Unfortunately, Linda is here portrayed as a simpering caretaker. She seems to have little backbone, and when she does show a little sass, she is usually sitting down, which weakens her delivery. She and Willy obviously have affection for one another, but the rawness of desire is territory left unexplored in this production.

T.J. Sokso and Coleman Daley play the Loman brothers, Hap and Biff very well. The structure of the play demands that the actors play Hap and Biff in their teens and in their thirties. They do an excellent job with the transitions. The huge disparity between the young brothers and the brothers in their thirties is a wonderfully sad tribute to their own failures over the years.

In the end, this is a deeply touching story played out by talented actors. Some alterations in the production could help the story play out more smoothly. However, the essence and complex structure of the play are well executed. No matter how crazy he seems, we can all imagine ourselves in Willy Loman’s shoes, with nothing tangible to show for a lifetime of hard work. This production definitely hits the spot in our hearts that has made Death of a Salesman a classic for half a century.

Katherine Joyce can be reached at ingliskat@aol.com