All My Sons, Octagon Theatre, Bolton

Lynne Walker
Tuesday 13 October 2009 19:00 EDT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Launching a new regime at the Octagon Theatre in Bolton, its recently installed artistic director, David Thacker, has returned to the same in-the-round concept he favoured for his Old Vic production of Arthur Miller's All My Sons 17 years ago. Beneath the glass floor of this set there's a murky layer, suggesting mechanical wreckage. The audience surrounds the communal yard where characters tread sometimes warily, sometimes recklessly, on a transparent surface that looks as treacherous as the unfolding narrative and as fragile as the threads holding the guilt-wracked Keller family together. Miller's apple tree, with its trunk snapped and its fruit fallen, is a prominent visual image.

The play is an American nightmare of love, greed, death and culpability in which Thacker's own use of metaphor would be less effective if his staging weren't so brilliant. The production could scarcely be more gripping, the emotional energy between these flawed people could hardly fizz more resonantly or the cracks in their veneer shatter with more tragic inevitability.

Kate and Joe Keller exist in a private fantasy world. She is fanatical in her belief that her pilot son, missing presumed dead, will return; he is buffered by the normality of small-town life against the truth that he, and not his imprisoned business partner, was responsible for selling flawed airplane cylinder heads and sending young pilots to certain death.

From his twitching shoulder to his rigid fingers, George Irving makes the intensity of Joe's belief in his skewed family values devastating. The way in which Margot Leicester conveys tightly-buttoned mental anguish as his wife is as clear in her boldly articulated gestures as in her words. And, as Chris, Oscar Pearce conveys the frustration of their decent, naïve son whose ambitions are thwarted by the deception his parents practise to survive.

Her father, Keller's partner, may have been a mouse but – in a striking debut by Vanessa Kirkby – Ann, the girlfriend of, in turn, both Keller brothers, comes across as remarkably assured while Mark Letheren, as her brother, brings a barely contained savagery to his monologue. No-one shrinks from the painful family moments or catastrophic revelations. All My Sons is a highlight of the Octagon's focus on Miller, its dramatic truth made wonderfully vivid.

To 24 October (01204 520661)

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in