Theatre / Death of a Salesman, by Arthur Miller. At Theatre Royal, Sydney, until June 23. Reviewed by HELEN MUSA.

“A salesman is got to dream… It comes with the territory,” Willy Loman’s neighbour Charley says in the closing scene of this great play, now 75 years old but still fresh as the day it was written.

Fresh, I say, because the struggles of the protagonist with ageing, with being ignored at work, with paying off the mortgage and with bringing up his children are ones everyone can identify with.

Remarkably, when the audience rose to give Neil Armfield’s production of Death of a Salesman a standing ovation on Wednesday, it was the first stage appearance in Sydney by Anthony LaPaglia.

Though understandably billed as a vehicle for LaPaglia – an actor who for many years has been keen to have his art taken seriously – it is by no means a one-man-play.

On the contrary, there are four demanding and challenging roles – Linda, Willy’s long-suffering wife, who demands respect and attention for her husband however ordinary he may be; Biff, the son idolised by his father but who would rather be out in the wide-open spaces, and Happy, the philandering son, pathetically striving to catch his parents’ attention.

All these were brilliantly performed. Alison Whyte, youngish as Linda, gave a powerful affirmation of Willy the man, Ben O’Toole was slippery as an eel in the role of the lying Happy, and Josh Helman, certainly, the finest Biff I have ever seen, was physically dominant but subtle in portraying  the torments of a son who believes his father is a self-deceiver. His is the character whose failure to live up to his father’s expectations lies at the centre of the play

Along the way is a full cast —no doubling —of fine actors playing variously the next-door neighbours Charley and Bernard, the boss, the alluring woman in a hotel room, silly girls at a bar and above all, portrayed with old-world dignity by Anthony Phelan, Willy’s older brother Ben Loman who went west then south to seek riches, facets of the American Dream that Miller explores. Most are superficial and callous but beautifully delineated.

They flicker in and out of view, but this this production are seen much of the time seated on bleachers as if referees at a sporting match, although director Armfield cleverly gets them off the stage when focus is required. This was demanding on the audience but with such uniformly fine acting that attention was held.

Death of a Salesman is one of the most written-about plays of the 20th century – generations of school and university students have written essays on whether it proves there can be true tragedy in modern life.

LaPaglia is the right man for the job. His Willy is restrained understated, allowing him, however moments of rage and confusion as he sinks further into despair. The moment when he tips out a bag of soil on to the ground to plant seeds is a case study in Stanislavskian acting, as is the incandescent second when he lights up, realising that his son Biff truly loves him.

Willy is not a great man fallen from a great height, but as LaPaglia shows, he is emblematic of the very state of humankind in a modern capitalist society.

This was a long production of a complex and demanding play, but it was also a very fine night in the theatre.