What Fools We Mortals Be—DEATH OF A SALESMAN at MVT
by Eleanor Svaton
What does it take to be successful in the business world? That’s what Willy Loman has never quite figured out. Unable to launch, he puts his hopes in his son, Biff, whom everyone loves, until they don’t.
"Be liked and you will never want. You take me, for instance. I never have to wait in line to see a buyer. 'Willy Loman is here!' That's all they have to know, and I go right through."
Willy imparts this wisdom to his son Biff in Arthur Miller’s timely drama, Death of a Salesman. The verity of the statement is questionable, like this next one:
"People love me. And you know what, I have been very successful. Everybody loves me."
Not Willy Loman this time, but rather convicted felon and twice-impeached former president of the United States Donald Trump. Both quotes may have been close to true at one point in each man’s life. But not anymore.
Just as Willy is trapped by his delusions of grandeur, many today relentlessly pursue material wealth while the 1% live light years beyond the average human’s wildest dreams, the entire world their playground. And yet, we think, if only we could somehow figure out the system, we could be living that life of luxury. We could be the winners instead of the losers. It’s the American way. The Dream. To not be a loser.
On Saturday, June 1, I attended the 7:30 PM performance of Death of a Salesman at Mānoa Valley Theatre. It was my first time experiencing this classic play, and I was enthralled from beginning to end. The production, directed by Linda Johnson, brought to life the Loman family, its orbit of characters, and the play's resonant themes on a beautifully designed multilevel set rising all the way up to the rafters, creating spaces that barely seemed to contain Dwight T. Martin as the larger than life salesman railing against the crumbling facade of his dignity.
While the set, designed by Michelle A. Bisbee, and the lighting design by Janine Myers suggested the entrapment and confinement of Willy Loman’s life, the sound design by Sarah Velasco, particularly the flute music that opened the show and recurred at poignant moments, emphasized what’s missing for Willy—a father figure, a leader, the elusive key to success he desperately seeks.
In an Substack article last year entitled “Willy Loman in the Age of Trump,” David Roberts wrote: “had Willy lived today, he would have been a die-hard supporter of Donald Trump. I’ve always felt a keen empathy toward Willy, and seeing him through this prism of politics in 2023 has deepened my understanding of the vast swath of my fellow citizens who covet the return of Trump to the Presidency.” Like Willy Loman, Trump believes in winners and losers in life. He says, be like me, and we’ll mop the floor with them.
What intrigues me is that you never get to see Willy Loman try to sell anything. That’s left to the imagination. We don’t see him out there on the road, one man and 700 miles, over and over again. Never really living the life he’s paying so dearly for, altering facts in his mind as he drives, little by little, to match the narrative of his dreams, even as they float further and further away, like shapes in the clouds that were never really anything at all.
My father was a salesman, until he retired a few years ago, during the pandemic, like so many others. And he started watching a lot of Fox News. We started having arguments about politics over the phone like never before. All of a sudden his day-to-day business of selling furniture as he’d done for over forty years was at an end, along with the rest of life as we knew it. And there was possibly the greatest snake-oil salesman of all time hawking exactly what he wanted to hear: none of this is your fault—it’s their fault, and we’ll be absolutely fine as long as you stick with me. And Dad ate it up. Is he a little senile? Maybe. If he reads this he can take it up with me. But I don’t think he and Willy Loman are all that different. My dad’s a survivor though, who was always ready to make a move—someone who has been willing to do whatever is necessary to succeed. He might be more like Trump than Willy after all.
I can’t recall Willy Loman saying anything remotely profound until he is pushed to the very edge. The rest is all smoke and mirrors. No substance. Be well liked. Make an impression. What does that even mean? It says nothing of values or morals. And maybe that’s what’s so relevant about this play: The crisis of values. A nation with aspirations to liberty and justice for all demands a higher standard than “be very well liked” and “make an impression.” In business, or capitalism, the value is in making money, and there are no morals. The rest has to come from elsewhere. Family values. And so I start to think about Willy’s wife, Linda.
Willy Loman is not possible without Linda Loman. She reveres him, glossing over his flaws, but also guides him in her way. Keeps him on track, sure that if they stay the course, everything will work out. One of the most telling moments of the play is when Willy’s older brother Ben (Allan Y. Okubo) proposes an adventurous opportunity in Alaska: Amy K. Sullivan’s Linda expresses absolute scorn towards Ben and easily redirects Willy to the predetermined path, a smooth display of Linda’s fierce protectiveness over the life she envisions for her family.
Biff Loman (Matthew Miller) blames his father for his own inability to be a successful businessman: "I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody!" You might say Linda does the same with Willy, blows him full of pride and delusion with her unwavering support, never acknowledging his failings.
I’ve always had an impression of Death of a Salesman, of Willy Loman, and it felt old and tired, depressing. Maybe that’s why I had never seen or read the play before. The production at Mānoa Valley Theatre, which runs for one more weekend, put me in my place. It’s excellent storytelling, with very strong performances all around and tight, powerful pacing, drawing the audience completely into the Loman family drama, spanning decades, each scene peeling away another layer of the facade, so that I became fully invested in understanding them, making sense of why they came out losers in the rat race of American life, ground down by the callousness of capitalism and the foolish reasons we mortals find to justify lying to ourselves and cheating one another.
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