Arthur Miller's 'The Price' Offers Timeless Themes

The Price by Arthur Miller

Directed by Harold Dixon

Featuring Harold Dixon, Sol Frieder, Marina Re, Michael Serratore

Set Design, Jenna McFarland

Costume Design, Gail Astrid Buckley

Lighting Design, Russ Swift

Sound Design, Jeremy Wilson

 

Performances through August 6 at Gloucester Stage Company                                                                                                                      Box Office 978-281-4433    www.gloucesterstage.org

 

In the attic of a Manhattan brownstone, filled with sheet-draped furniture, piles of books, rolled up carpets, and an old Victrola, the lives of four people converge one late afternoon in November, 1967, and none of them is unchanged by the encounter.  The meeting of two brothers – one a successful surgeon, the other a police sergeant – takes place after many years of estrangement and is necessitated by the task of disposing of their parents' property.

The Price is ostensibly about the amount of money an antique dealer is willing to pay for the roomful of items.  Yet it is viscerally about the cost of doing business as a brother, a son, a spouse, and as a human being.  I doubt that anyone can be untouched by the messages that are driven home by this 1968 Arthur Miller play as its themes and values appear to be timeless.  In the America of today, we continue to struggle with the importance of money versus integrity, perhaps more so than in the late 1960's when materialism was a dirty word.  Each of the four characters has paid a price to get where they are in life and their stories unfold in this taut drama.

 

At the start of Act One, Victor Franz (Michael Serratore) strolls around the furnishings and other accumulated stuff, taking it all in and savoring the memories that are stirred and reflected on his face.  He picks up his old fencing foil and dons the mask before striking the en garde pose and making a couple of lunges.  His joy is obvious as he winds up the record player and listens to a few moments of an infectious laugh track.  When his wife Esther (Marina Re) enters, the fun stops and the serious nature of what they are doing there begins to be seen.  While it is clear that they have different views of the importance of money, there is a tension between them that transcends that basic value.  References are made to Victor's brother Walter, Victor's indecisiveness about retirement, and the need to bargain with the overdue dealer.  There is a weightiness in this scene that threatens to suck all of the air out of the musty room.

 

Ironically, new life is breathed into the act by the arrival of nearly ninety-year-old Gregory Solomon, played to perfection by Sol Frieder.  As befits his age, he is slow and methodical (which is infuriating to Victor), wise in a Dutch uncle sort of way, and serves as a moral compass as he picks through the shards of the Franz family's past.  He suggests that one can't be sentimental when it comes to used furniture, but seems to be implying that the same advice pertains to old relationships.  The brothers and Esther don't quite know what to make of him, yet he is the most consistent and honest character.

 

There is actually very little sentimentality that is sincerely expressed when Victor and Walter (Harold Dixon) finally have their reunion.  They share some memories about the things in the attic, but hold divergent opinions when it comes to hashing out what happened in their family.  As they reexamine the events that resulted in their estrangement, it is clear that each brother sincerely believes in his viewpoint and feels that the price he paid was greater than that of his sibling.  They question each other's actions and label them as choices, while defending their own behavior as fated.

 

Walter tells Victor, "You wanted a real life.  And that's an expensive thing; it costs."  Victor explains, "There's a price people pay.  I've paid it, it's all gone, I haven't got it any more.  Just like you paid, didn't you?"  They have both lived out their lives in the shadow of their father, a powerful force even in absentia, represented by an upholstered armchair center stage.  He damaged the brothers in different ways and they deal with their wounds differently.  Walter reaches out to Vic, to join forces against the old demons, so to speak.  However, Vic finds it necessary to hold onto his view of the old days, heavily peppered with denial, in order to maintain his sense of self.  He was loyal to the "old man" while his brother escaped to make the life that he wanted for himself.  At this juncture, Vic can't live with himself unless he is able to defend what he did.  While Walter calls it a choice, Victor sees it as having been preordained.

 

The path that her husband chose also affected Esther's life.  While they have been together nearly thirty years and have a son at MIT, her dissatisfaction with being the wife of a public servant is evident.  For example, she doesn't want him to wear his police uniform when they go out to dinner and a movie.  Although she thinks he's smart, she can't stop herself from instructing him about bargaining with the dealer and interjecting her concerns about him wanting to share the take with his long-absent brother.

 

Perhaps because he has lived so long, Solomon is the most faceted character.  He has an agenda, which is that he wants to buy the furniture and revive his dormant business, but he has no underlying mission to resolve with any of the others.  He has lived a good life and seems to view each day that he awakes as a gift of sorts.  He doesn't fear death and clearly knows that it is near.  Victor, Esther, and Walter probably fear living with their demons more than Solomon worries about dying.

There are many painful revelations during the reunion, but it is difficult to accept these two men as brothers who went through these life experiences together.  Both Dixon and Serratore are able to show a range of emotions individually, but their scenes did not draw me in.  When sparks flew between them, I was hoping for something to catch fire, but I was disappointed.  There is a lot of emoting and yelling at one another, each trying to sell his version of the truth to the other, as if his life depends on it.  Miller intended that "a fine balance of sympathy should be maintained…" for Victor and Walter.  Successful as they were at showing that they were conflicted, I couldn't believe that they felt the need or desire to overcome the conflict and finally reconcile.  The balance was achieved, but neither was terribly sympathetic.

 

As a piece of literature, this is a riveting story that looks at important themes and values, such as materialism and family relationships.  Translated to the stage where it all plays out in one rather claustrophobic room, it comes across as sometimes sluggish, sometimes torpid, especially in the first act.  I looked forward to the resolution after intermission, but the promise was unfulfilled.  Perhaps that's a reflection of life.

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