Dundee Rep Four stars Life appears to be very much elsewhere at the start of Jemima Levick’s stately revival of Arthur Miller’s devastating dissection of truth, honour and the wider consequences of ignoble actions. It’s there in the broken tree that lies bare and leafless in the dirt of Alex Lowde’s fortress-like and barely domestic exterior, flanked by its similarly barren brothers who loom large at what is effectively ringside as if guarding a tomb. It’s there too in the slow-motion chimes of David Paul Jones’ sepulchral score, which seems to hang hazily in the air like the ghost of Joe and Kate Keller’s unseen son Larry, missing in action during the Second World War three and a half years before. Most of all, the anguish of absence is etched onto the face of Irene Macdougall as Kate, who wanders through her half-life with a brittle and broken martyrdom. If she ever faced up to the truth of what happened when her husband’s aircraft engine factory let planes fly with defect...
An archive of arts writing by Neil Cooper. Effete No Obstacle.