When Arthur Miller wrote All My Sons, the United States was emerging from the Second World War, still a slightly confused nation, but beginning to unearth a clearer role for itself in world affairs. Thousands of American GIs had died during the conflict, but there remained a view that while their lads had been in Europe and the South Pacific fighting for freedom, there were many at home taking advantage and raking in fortunes from wartime production. Joe Keller is one such culprit.
Miller’s play focuses on the Keller family, in mid-west America, circa 1947. The eldest son, Larry, a wartime pilot, is missing, presumed dead. Presumed dead, that is by everyone but his mother who still clings to the hope that he remains alive somewhere. But when his former fiancée, Ann, pays a rare visit to their home it opens a can of worms. Unknown to the mother, Ann has fallen in love with her other son, Chris and they are intent on getting married. But how can they, she cries, when her other son could still be alive.
It then becomes even more complicated when we learn that Ann’s father, a former work colleague and friend of Joe Keller, is in prison, having been found guilty of supplying dodgy aircraft engines to the US Air Force. As a result, a number of aircraft have crashed, and at the back of many minds is the dreaded fear that the damaged engine parts may well have been the cause of Larry’s plane crash. But in fact it’s not Ann’s father who is to blame, but Joe himself who falsified all the evidence and allowed Ann’s father to take the wrap.
This Royal Exchange production, while commendable in so many ways, has a serious flaw. The acting is fine and the design is complimentary, but the problem is that instead of all the characters being white they are black. It’s an interesting and daring innovation that should be applauded, but sadly one that did not work for me. A company owner, a doctor, a lawyer, a pleasant house and so forth somehow doesn’t ring true with what life was like for a black family in 1947 mid-west America.
It’s just not convincing. Joe, for instance, in this production has such a warmth about him that it’s hard to see him as a liar and corporation crook. He needs to be more conniving, less sincere and in reality should be more of a Richard Nixon. Indeed, Joe is little more than a small town businessman prepared to cut corners and tell a few lies in order to make a better life for his family. But, of course, his actions can have devastating repercussions. Perhaps director Michael Buffong imagined that having a black cast would throw a different light on some of the play’s complexities. It doesn’t. Instead it detracts, causing even more confusions.
Miller’s play is a moral story of lies, corporate responsibility and small-time capitalism. It’s also about trust, family and friendship. What’s more, it’s as relevant today as it was when it was written. So it’s such a pity that a daring experiment doesn’t quite come off.