We saw a version of Arthur Miller's first successful Broadway play, All My Sons, at Billings Studio Theatre. It was directed by Bobbi Hawk and was well done by a good group of players. They may have been a little too laid-back to start with but by the 2nd act they were in good form. A personal note: the doctor made a house call using my recently donated medical bag from the late 50s.
There were other distinctive chronological touches; such as people living in a neighborhood for a long time, maybe even their whole lives; and seams on their nylons, the ladies' that is. There were even a few snorts from the audience when they mentioned a successful haberdasher: first for knowing what a haberdasher was, and second for probably remembering that Harry Truman started off in that humble way.
Things might have gone a lot easier for all the characters if they had had some way of receiving absolution for their sins. Of course, the thought of confessing them never occurred either. I guessed where the story was heading about halfway through the 2nd act, but was still properly appalled at Kate's insistent revelation that if her son was dead then her husband was a murderer! Maybe this play was one of those factors that led John Updike to counsel all of us that we should not disabuse ourselves of our illusions because bad things happen when one does this.
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