One of Arthur Miller’s lesser known pieces, The America Clock, is playing at The Old Vic until the end of
March. It is known as a Vaudeville and,
as such includes a jazz band, singers and tap dancer in its line-up. Directed by Rachel Chavkin, this three-hour epic production depicts Miller’s
view of America during the Great Depression.
This is not the only play concerning money and American history to
recently hit our stages, The Lehman
Trilogy being the other. They
couldn’t be more different. Stefano Massini’s play
has just three actors in the cast and a paired down revolving set, whilst The
American Clock has a cast of eighteen plus four musicians. Whilst the latter is a fascinating insight
into thirties America, it is nowhere near as affecting as the former. Sometimes less is more.
The use of
music very effectively counterpoints the bleakness of the action and lifts the
spirits much like it must have done to those Americans going through this
terrible time. Jim Henson must be
applauded for his musical direction.
What isn’t so effective and is, in fact, rather confusing is Chavkin’s decision to cast three
different sets of actors as the Baum family at the centre of the action. The theory that this will heighten the
cultural diversity of American immigrants and highlight the challenges they
face (the families are, in turn, white Jewish, South Asian and African
American) doesn’t quite work in practice.
What works most
effectively are the small private moments when Miller draws on his own
experiences of this period. It’s when we
view the Jewish Baums – father Moe, his music-loving wife Rose and would be
writer son Lee, obviously based on Miller himself – and their eventual decline
that we feel emotionally connected. The
“bells and whistles” moments feel strangely detached and the scenes when the
whole cast are involved feel cluttered despite the large Old Vic stage.
This isn’t to
say that I didn’t enjoy the evening.
There are some striking performances.
Clarke Peters as the broker
who sees the crash coming, brings a melancholic dignity to his job as the
story’s narrator – his wonderful voice is a joy. Golda
Rosheuvel is a suitably fierce agitator and, as I love a bit of tap
dancing, mention must be made of the dazzling footwork of Ewan Wardrop.
I can see why
we don’t often get treated to this weighty and rather rambling piece by the
great Arthur Miller. It’s not an easy production to bring to life
and despite Chavkin’s best efforts
to show its undeniable relevance, I’m afraid it comes across as rather long and
often preachy.
No comments:
Post a Comment