The Stratford Theatre Review: Brodie and Sy’s Salesman in China

By Ross

A door opens to the smokey arrival of a man challenging the system and himself in a brazen attempt to create something personal and meaningful, much like this stunningly expansive play. A child runs by, adding a layer of questioning. Is this a ghost from the past? Or maybe it is a reminder of what’s at the core of Leanna Brodie 白仁耐 and Jovanni Sy 施崇梵’s fascinatingly smart and captivating Salesman in China. The play celebrates the form it lives within and presents; a dynamic love letter to the theatre and to all those involved with the creation of this art form. It brilliantly shifts and turns in and around itself, appeasing egos and ambitions, as well as shining a strong light on the daring act of cultural cross-pollination as seamlessly as one could hope for, becoming an act of extraordinary translation across borders and cultural lines that resonates and relates.

In this world premiere production, magnificently staged by director and co-playwright Jovanni Sy (Vertigo’s Murder on the Orient Express), Salesman in China plays with our senses, visually and aurally, igniting and inviting us into the rehearsal room of the Beijing People’s Art Theatre in 1983, where a roomful of actors have just finished their first reading of a Chinese translation of Arthur Miller’s iconic play, “Death of a Salesman“. The air is thick in response, with the actors shifting uncomfortably in their chairs of disconnection and confusion as they wait and wonder.

Based upon the memoirs of both Miller and theatre director Ying Ruocheng, who will be playing the role of Willy Loman in the Chinese production, Salesman in China powerfully finds layers of connection, disconnection, comradery, and conflict, creating intense complications within, around culture, language, and historical perspectives triggered by memory, fear, trauma, and optimism, the stance that co-playwright Brodie (The Book of Esther) and director/co-playwright Sy feel is “baked into the source material.”

The new play is profoundly engaging and fascinating, presented and premiering at the Stratford Festival‘s Avon Theatre, and as we watch the iconic playwright himself, Arthur Miller, played powerfully by Tom McCamus (Stratford’s Hedda Gabler), rise and engage with that roomful of Chinese actors, we can’t help but lean in with utter curiosity. The playwright Miller, having just arrived in China with his wife, Inge Morath, played beautifully and compellingly by Sarah Orenstein (Stratford’s Grand Magic), will be directing this production in an act of self-elevation, hoping to regain a sense of himself and of his importance in the world of theatre. The legendary actor Ying Ruocheng, played captivatingly and intricately by Adrian Pang 彭耀順 (Singapore Repertory’s God of Carnage), will help shepherd Miller through, but it won’t be without conflict and controversy as they both understand the large gamble they are taking, both internally and externally. The eyes of the world will be watching, and the cultural bridges that will need to be crossed are far more expansive than Miller could have possibly imagined. And does he have the flexibility of mind to make it through?

Problems begin to emerge from day one, with symbols, imagery, and structural formations from the iconic play, “Death of a Salesman” failing to connect and translate. The Chinese actors know nothing about some of the touchstones within the play, like the concept of a traveling salesman, or even the idea of ‘life insurance’. There are fewer known parts than known, beyond what anyone could have predicted. Upon hearing this, Miller attempts to aim the play at the true heart of the work, the complicated connection and love between a father and his sons, which registers deeply inside the memory-laden head of Ruocheng. So powerful is this complex connection and attachment within this character that it can’t help but spiral out, projected in deep red against a backdrop of grey, thanks to the excellent work done by set designer Joanna Yu 余頌恩 (Stratford’s Les Belles-Soeurs), lighting designer Sophie Tang 汤语菲 (Citadel’s 9 to 5), and strong projections by Chimerik 似不像 (an interdisciplinary nonprofit organization consisting of artists from underrepresented groups, co-run by Caroline MacCaull and Sammy Chien). Personal history and trauma start to merge and layer on the struggling shoulders of the lead actor, finding increasingly difficult form in the similarly hazy flashbacks of Willy Loman.

So much is at stake here in this thrilling new play that we are hypnotized by their compounding conflict as we watch these two legendary personas, Ruocheng and Miller, form a complicated collaboration, filled with passionate acts of communion and intensely conflictual slaps of racism and deception. The two men listen and attempt creation, fighting hard for the truth while utter insults without realization. Miller is by far the most problematic of the two, with Ruocheng apologizing far too often; almost as bad as a Canadian (joke). Miller brings his American arrogance to the forefront in some of the most brutally harsh ways possible. Those moments slap hard and sting deep, thanks to the exacting work of translator Fang Zhang, credited with the translation of Ying Ruocheng’s memoir “Voices Carry” from English to Chinese. Deeply entrenched stereotypes are displayed and pushed forward, mostly around how Americans see the world, how they believe everyone should see them, and how they should be portrayed. A frustrating double or triple standard that hits its target exactly in one profound masked moment that blows up the stage and exposes a much darker side of Miller. And America.

The production is a thrilling complicated ride, unpacking the many challenging ideas embedded within that it becomes increasingly difficult to take them all in and dissect them. All the various perspectives are expertly unwound, thanks to the whole crew of characters on that stage; in particular Miller’s and Ruocheng’s wives, Inge (Orenstein) and Wu Shiliang, sharply portrayed by Jo Chim 詹翠珊 (Canadian Stage’s As You Like It), who find captivating ways of commenting and expanding our horizons within the same breath. But one of the most compelling members of the cast is Phoebe Hu 胡馨勻 (Tarragon’s Orphan Song) who uncovers layers and layers of humor and heaviness in the role of actress, Zhu Lin, who we see taking on the role of Linda in their “Death of a Salesman“. Her dry yet pointed delivery sheds light on so many layers of confusion and misunderstanding, unpacking ideas that force a realignment of thought and processing. Similarly, Agnes Tong 唐若馨 (Arts Club’s 4000 Miles) delivers the complications of bringing this American classic to the stage as well as the profound understanding (and misunderstanding) of the theatrical community that lives within this crew. They, as well as everyone else involved, deliver the framing with brilliant compassion, power, and extraordinary subtlety.

The actors switch with intellectual ease and grace between Mandarin and English, finding personal and professional balance and boundaries within to navigate and explore. The emotional journey feels even more profoundly etched within their exact shifting back and forth between languages, with fully bilingual subtitles projected on the stage rise below. The layers are deliberate and complex, making it almost impossible to take it all in with only one viewing. The play is filled to the brim with interesting conceptualizations and unique vantage points on all things cultural and symbolic. McCamus’ Miller does manage to get through without any of the repercussions he deserves from his horrifying outbursts laden with inappropriate comments, uncaring questions, and outright racist commentaries. I left the theatre feeling he got away with something without any form of punishment for his behavior, but maybe that is a bigger commentary on privilege than I failed to realize at the time.

As memories start to mesh with scenes from the play within the play, Salesman in China keeps surprising and enlightening the stage it lives and breathes upon. Fathers and sons, we are told, time and time again, are at the core of Miller’s “Death of a Salesman“, and in Sy and Brodie’s beautifully rendered production of their Salesman in China, they flash in and around the framing and history of Ruocheng’s trauma with a delicate paralleling. It’s a beautiful performance by Pang, maybe one of the strongest of this Stratford season. It sends sparks of grief, rage, and delusional determination out into the audience by all involved. It’s surprising and intentional, and as my friend said as we left the Avon Theatre, “Now that’s theatre theatre!” of the most profound and captivating kind.