The End of Outrage
Playwright Arthur Miller died last week in Connecticut at the age of 89. Pop culture vultures will remember Miller for having married Marilyn Monroe and for then having written an uncharacteristically uncharitable play, After the Fall (1964), based on their tempestuous marriage. Miller will also be remembered for his brave refusal to name communist sympathizers to the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1956.
Among theater enthusiasts, he will be remembered for redefining the tenets of tragedy from a theological construct -- based on kings and princes and destiny -- to a political one based on working people and systemic social injustice. In Death of a Salesman (1949), Miller created a family tragedy from a failed traveling salesman with delusions of grandeur. Indignity and despair strike when Willy Loman, an old man without means, is refused permission to represent the company hes been with for decades. Even his sons leave him, literally, babbling in a toilet. "The only thing you got in this world is what you can sell," his neighbor explains in a single line that embodies Millers indictment of a cultural ethic that pricks the nuclear family with a poison tip.
Had America not swung so sharply to the right with its diminishment of workers and other civil rights, Millers best plays might have become antique curiosities. Instead, they are classics. The Crucible (1953) ostensibly about the Salem witch hunts of the 17th century but actually about McCarthyism speaks as eloquently to hate crimes and the fallacies in our war on terrorism as it did to those in our war on communism.
Millers plays are not subtle. They shout from a pulpit about personal ethics, where every family is a kind of nation, sending sparks of indignation, like exclamation points, around the world. In 1983, Death of a Salesman played to standing ovations in Beijing. Graduate theater students tend to dismiss the American greats -- ONeill, Williams, Miller, Albee for being of another era, another sensibility. Playwright Tony Kushner admitted to the Weekly in 2003 that he used to be like that, with an attitude that now embarrasses him because, over the years, the great American plays keep striking back with new pertinence. Of Miller, Kushner said, "No American playwright has ever understood so profoundly the mechanics of getting an audience and keeping them and moving them to the next point. And the fact that its in the service of such monumental ideas is amazing."
Steven Leigh Morris
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