Tron Theatre, Glasgow
Four stars
Arthur Miller’s major plays may have been written in the mid twentieth century, but their huge hearted studies of the human fall-out of post World War Two capitalism continue to tap into the collective American psyche like few others. It is thrilling, therefore, to have new productions of two of Miller’s mightiest works on our doorstep within a couple of weeks of each other. With Andy Arnold and David Hayman’s take on Death of a Salesman to come, Jemima Levick announces her tenure as artistic director of the Tron with a production of A View from the Bridge that resonates with creative vitality.
Miller’s play charts the downfall of Eddie Carbone, the New York longshoreman who opens his already busy house to his wife Beatrice’s two cousins Marco and Rodolfo, illegally transported from Italy. Where Marco works hard for his family back home, Rodolpho is attracted by the glamour of music and movies. In the middle of this is Eddie’s orphaned niece Catherine, on the cusp of womanhood but still blissfully unaware of her burgeoning sexuality. When her attentions turn to Rodolpho, Eddie is like a wounded bear, with tragedy just a lumbering step away.
Levick sets out her store on Alex Lowde’s shipping container set, designed to ramp up the all too current demonization of immigrants. Rather than the 1950s blue-collar trappings one might expect, Eddie wears joggers, and Beatrice a vest and jeans. When Eddie comments on Catherine’s hair, telling her she looks like a Madonna might just have a new meaning. Marco and a shell-suited Rodolpho, meanwhile, look downtown cool, never mind the crooners danced to by Rodolpho and Catherine. Only our sharp suited narrator Alfieri looks timeless.
While Miller’s play doesn’t really need signposted, the spartan minimalism of the shipping container living room nevertheless heightens the four walls claustrophobia and simmering sexual tensions it provokes even before the brothers arrive. Eddie stepping out of the shower to talk to Catherine while wearing just a towel sets the tone for a play in which everyone ends up wounded.
The power of Levick’s production comes in the performances. This is true from the moment Claire McKenzie’s rumbling score burbles with foreboding before giving way to Lizzie Powell’s lights going up on Nicholas Karimi, who gives Alfieri’s opening speech from the auditorium aisle.
As Eddie, Mark Holgate captures the full sense of mid-life emasculation as he spars with Reuben Joseph’s Marco and bullies Michael Guest’s Rodolpho. Nicola Cooper gives a heartbreaking turn as Beatrice, a woman fully aware of the effect Catherine has on Eddie. Eddie too is forced to square up to his own diminishing powers in the face of someone younger, stronger and better looking, even as he is emboldened by a town full of everyday prejudice. As Catherine, Holly Howden Gilchrist moves from wide-eyed teen to an already emotionally scarred grown-up as she stands up to Eddie. The betrayal, when it comes, takes no prisoners in a searingly sharp depiction of a modern classic.
The Herald, February 28th 2025
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