Review: All My Sons (Raven Theatre)

By Chicagotheaterbeat @chitheaterbeat

  
  
All My Sons

Written by Arthur Miller 
Directed by Michael Menendian
at Raven Theatre, 6157 N. Clark (map)
thru Nov 15  |  tickets: $36   |  more info
  
Check for half-price tickets 
  
  
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An eternal portrait of the dark side of American prosperity

     

  

Raven Theatre presents

  

All My Sons

Review by Clint May 

Fine purveyors of all things Millerian, Raven Theatre kicks of its 14-15 season with his first big hit. All My Sons is inevitably and perhaps unfairly going to always live in the shadow of his later definition of the 20th century, Death of a Salesman, and certainly you see the genesis of many of those same themes in this work. There’s a core family, an “everyman” central character and of course, that trademark scathing insight into American dissimulation. Watching Arthur Miller is to witness Norman Rockwell’s dark reflection.

Somewhere in the Midwest (probably a suburb of Columbus), Joe (Chuck Spencer) is the patriarch of not just his family but the quintessential American neighborhood of married couples and ragamuffin children. Son Larry has been MIA for three years while the younger, Chris (Matthew Klingler), made it back two years ago. With a motive that is patently obvious to all around him, Chris has invited his brother’s sweetheart Ann (Jen Short) to his parent’s house to ask her hand in marriage. Everyone has given up on Larry ever returning. All but his mother Kate (JoAnn Montemurro). She’s gone so far as to have his horoscope drawn up by her neighbor (Shane Murray-Corcoran) to see if the date of his plane going down was his “favorable day,” which means he couldn’t have died. That hope springs eternal for her is more complicated than just a mother’s love for her son and a source of great friction for all around her as they attempt to move on with their lives.

As an owner of a large factory that produced airplane parts in wartime, Joe’s viewed with suspicion after being exonerated for faulty parts when his employee took the fall. Those faulty parts caused the deaths of 21 pilots, and that employee is also Ann’s father. All these details weave together and seethe uncomfortably beneath the thin veneer of small town civility and Miller is not shy about letting cracks form and finally explode through it in the course of a single day.

It’s the kind of interwoven Grecian tragedy structure Miller is known for. Here the gods being worshipped are the twin American obsessions of Family and Capitalism, but they will offer no protection when the scales of Justice must be at long last restored. Miller is uncompromising and occasionally melodramatic in this commentary on the bloody hands of those who profit from war in the name of empire building. Based on a true story, there’s an oddly prescient throwaway line in which a character comments that Joe’s factory resembles GM’s. Given their own controversy in allowing killer cars out into the public and trying to cover it up, it makes one realize with a chill how little far we’ve come.

  

Often thought of as a slow-burn type of piece, director Michael Menendian wastes no time in getting the early tremors of the eruption vibrating amongst his cast. This means that the second half has to kick it into even higher gear to up the ante. Thankfully the key performances are anchored in Spencer, Montemurro and Klingler. They bring a level of credibility that helps to gloss over some of the contrivances that occur from Miller’s device. This is no more true than in Montemurro. She’s an exposed nerve barely holding on to the band aid of social propriety. The unraveling of her cognitive dissonance has to rise to the level of the entire national consciousness trying to return to normalcy after the world has been torn apart. Spencer and Klingler create two realistic portrayals of another kind of dissonance—justification for irresponsibility and the feigned bliss of ignorance. 

Where it falls apart just a little is the supporting characters. There’s perhaps one too many people fleshing out this universe, bringing in their own conflicts and revelations that in theory add more to the texture of post-War America but actually just become distracting. Greg Caldwell, as Ann’s brother George, arrives in the second act to become the climactic catalyst but feels like he is off-tune with the rest of his cast—something from a hard boiled 40’s mystery thriller. Ann is given a letter that by all rights she should not have been holding on to, and the reveal is the biggest pill to swallow.

Those amount to minor misgivings at the end of the day. When you’re there and swept up in the emotional maelstrom, the searing indictment of American hypocrisy is what shines through. Even though you know the ends (there can be only one in a Greek tragedy) will be horrific, the means are electrifying.

  

Rating: ★★★½

  

  

All My Sons continues through November 15th at Raven Theatre, 6157 N. Clark (map), with performances Thursdays-Saturdays at 7:30pm, Sundays 3pm.  Tickets are $31-$36 ($15 for students, teachers and military), and are available by phone (866-811-4111) or online through OvationTix.com (check for half-price tickets at Goldstar.com). More info at RavenTheatre.com.  (Running time: 2 hours, includes an intermission)

Photos by Dean La Prairie


     

artists

cast

Chuck Spencer (Joe Keller), JoAnn Montemurro (Kate Keller), Matthew Klingler (Chris Keller), Jen Short (Ann Deever), Greg Caldwell (George Deever), Kristen Williams (Sue Bayliss), Matt Bartholomew (Jim Bayliss), Shane Murray-Corcoran (Frank Lubey), Hallie Peterson (Lydia Lubey), Daniel Pass (Bert)

behind the scenes

Michael Menendian (director), Kiley Morgan (stage manager), Ray Toler (set design), Alaina Moore (costume design), Diane Fairchild (lighting design), Mary O’Dowd (props design), Luke Sword (sound design), Conor Clark (technical director), Laura Zarougian (assistant director), Deborah Blumenthal (dramaturgy), Claire Nelson (production manager), Kristen Abhalter (scenic artist), Justin Castellano (master electrician), Dean La Prairie (photos)

14-1940