There’s the old-fashioned telephone (the kind with a cord) and the tennis racket with the old-fashioned press for the wood frame. The mood on the spare, sharp set is retro. He needs to figure out how to get out of the hole he has dug for himself and his family, but he’s too afraid to look back and understand all the lies and hot air that brought him to this place. 20, Willy Loman spits and sputters, smiles and smirks. That is, until you don’t.Īt the Denver Center Theater Company’s production of “Death of A Salesman,” running through Oct.
You want so badly to cling to now, you’re hanging on by your fingernails. Trying to ward off the worst kind of obsolescence-the unplanned variety. Still sorting out your lies and legacies, your truths and troubles. Like, now.īut here you are, still snarling and struggling.
You think better days will magically appear on the horizon if you just want them enough, if you insist on their arrival. Willy Loman, what haunts you more? Ghosts from the past? Or the fact that you can’t quite chase down that ever-elusive future? You’re so stubborn.
Mike Hartman as Will Loman, Denver Center
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