Death Of A Salesman. That iconic, Arthur Miller masterpiece we often first meet as students, thumbed through and decades old. At least that was my first memory of the play. My first meeting was not well received – I watched the film version in which Dustin Hoffman played a weedy, whiny Willy Loman. It wasn’t until years later that I heard the old recording with Lee J. Cobb, the original Loman that the true wealth of the work rang true to me. His lumbering, burdened yet stubbornly hopeful portrayal, cemented Loman as one of the greatest tragic heroes theatre has ever seen. Fortunately, in the Ensemble’s latest staging of the classic, Sean Taylor takes on the role with ease and stoic, tragic dignity.

The Ensemble’s Artistic Director Sandra Bates takes on the meaty play with a stunning cast. The chemistry between Taylor and wife Jacki Weaver is undeniable. Miller’s writing of this couple is still breathtaking. The sheer world-weary nature of both, and the instant front they put on when in each other’s presence cuts right to the bone. It is above all the story of simple people, struggling to get by. A portrait of people who would never believe they are of interest, but when we are invited to strip away the fourth wall, expose for us some of the most painfully tragic moments in their lives. Recent NIDA graduate Anthony Gooley is a formidable and understated Biff, the son who had promise but never made good. Tom O’Sullivan completes the family as the smooth-talking Happy who carries many of his father’s traits, but is going nowhere fast. Even though I know the play intimately, the story of the man bringing up his children for lives of similar misery still affects me.

As Bates’ production transitions between the present and the past, the sheer youth, colour and promise of times long ago makes the present seem even murkier, somehow hopeless. Staged as three circular levels, Judith Hoddinott’s set allows the Loman household room to listen to one another, overhear and pretend. The perfect rendering for a family who never quite connected. The original music from Don Burrows, gives a confused yet beautiful life to the music Miller wrote into the script. Some wonderful lines still ring out with the same calamity that they once heralded – particularly Weaver’s pared back “He’s only a little boat, searching for a harbour.”

Although this production as a whole stays traditionally true to Miller’s original intentions, I felt some significantly jarring moments and some poor direction choices. Norman Coburn’s Uncle Ben hits nowhere near the mark that this role should aim. Ben is the character that leaves Willy Loman in his wake. Willy wants to be like him, and wants his sons to as well. Ben’s echoed line “I walked into the jungle and I walked out rich” should have Willy salivating with financial prospect. For some reason, Coburn’s Ben is casual and underplayed. He utters his advice like passing thoughts, when Ben should command everyone in the room to swell with wide-eyed hope.

However the most grating moment came with Olivia Pigeot’s performance as The Woman. Appearing in a climactic moment of the play, which unravels Willy Loman’s reputation in front of his adoring son, the scene is one of the most exposing and awful moments of the play. Pigeot, to her credit, displays a brilliantly hilarious drunk, stumbling about and laughing with a nasally high voice. The audience are in hysterics long after she stumbles out, having crushed Biff’s dream of his father. When Biff starts to cry and the audience (on opening night) around me were commenting to each other how funny The Woman was, Bates’ production surely lost out on a moment that should wrench our hearts. Why this choice was made is beyond me, although other minor characters were played very well. Michael Ross as Charley is a wonderfully balanced father and businessman, very funny without taking away from Willy’s central struggle. I also felt Jonathan Prescott’s empathy as the waiter who is left to pick up the pieces.

It’s impressive to see an Ensemble show playing to such a huge crowd, and although the York Theatre seemed a little too big for this intimate tale, it grew on me. Willy Loman’s story still hits home and this is overall a fine production. As Loman’s trusty wife exclaims, “Attention must be paid,” and that is certainly still true of Miller’s classic.