Flawed men dominate Arthur Miller’s plays. Whether it is frantic Willy Loman, the protagonist of Death of a Salesman, worn down by the torrent of pressure thrown at him by capitalism, and his own mistakes, A View From The Bridge’s torn Eddie Carbone or The Crucible’s foolishly defiant John Proctor, the iconic American playwright certainly knows how to craft a man on the edge, and in All My Sons, with shady Joe Keller, this is on display once more, brought to life by an exhilarating Bryan Cranston. 

Joe (Cranston) is a man caught in the crosshairs of financial success, a rarity in Miller’s American Dream-centric plays, while grappling with the assumed loss of his son Larry, killed in action during World War II. Left behind with Joe is his grief-stricken wife Kate (a stunning Marianne Jean-Baptiste), wrapped up in a permanent state of refusal to accept her son’s death, and awkward son Chris (Paapa Essiedu), who saw action himself and appears changed by his experiences, lost in a new post-war world. 

As well as family strife, an overturned conviction, providing faulty airplane equipment to the US Air Force, resulting in multiple deaths, lingers over Joe, whose freedom is complicated when former neighbour Ann (Hayley Squires), daughter of Joe’s incarcerated employee for the same crime, returns to the neighbour, having once been Larry’s girl, but now on Chris’ arm as his new fiancé. 

There is a collection of complex characters operating in Miller’s script, yet Ivo Van Hove’s crisp direction provides instant clarity to the complexity of these individuals, supported by Jan Versweyveld’s minimalist yet impactful set design, consisting of a fallen tree and a gaping hole doubling as a window and the sun, a nice contrast of the hope and despair that lingers through the Keller household. 

As Joe, Cranston’s ability to breathe life into every word, every gesture, comes to the fore. This is a complete leading man portrayal, with Cranston looking at ease shifting from Joe’s happy-go-lucky attitude to one far more serious, even perhaps darker, as the play unfolds. Beginning as a typical ‘All-American’ Dad, Joe quickly descends into something more manipulative, aided by An D’Huys costume design, shifting from a casual shirt and slacks to a smarter, business-like, attire, not just mirroring Joe’s lounge to dinner wear but also the shift from doting father to the cutthroat factory owner, succeeding in his corner of the American Dream by any means necessary. Cranston’s portrayal of Joe, and his desperation to hold himself, and his family, together is completely intoxicating, and a West End performance for the ages. 

Alongside Cranston, Jean-Baptiste’s depiction of the desperate Kate stuns. This is a painful, poignant, presentation of a mother’s refusal to accept the loss of her son, brought to the fore more by Miller’s script setting the family, and their neighbours, in a surrounding that has never seemed to move on. The stagnancy of the Keller’s lives, despite their financial gains, is stark, and this is brought out through Jean-Baptiste’s portrayal. 

In addition, Essiedu’s Chris’ grows in assurance, initially swept up in his affection for the returning Ann, with Essiedu bringing out Chris’ naivety and boyish charm effectively. Yet as the play unfolds, Joe and Chris’ relationship becomes more strained, and it is the electricity that sparks between the fierce confrontations between the pair that takes the piece up another level. Despite its over two-hour runtime, with no interval, the play moves at an incredible pace, heightening the tension enhanced by the exceptional chemistry between Cranston and Essiedu. 

Adding fuel to the burning embers of the Keller dynamic is the mercurial Ann (Squires) and thuggish brother George (Tom Glynn-Carnegie). Squires’ Ann is a little hard to make out, in that her intentions are suspiciously one-dimensional, while lawyer George, who reappears on the block with tough questions for Joe, is a vessel to spearhead the Kellers’ into seeming oblivious. The pair, much like the rest of the ensemble, work hard to make their limited roles three-dimensional, while never seizing the limelight enough to divert attention from the imploding family 

All My Sons is during the play’s gripping and devastating conclusion, as we see Cranston, luxuriating in Keller’s desperate collapse, that the production reaches its exhilarating best. Ruminating on what it means to be successful, and the sacrifices it takes, this is unforgettable, unmissable, theatre, and a play that lingers long in the memory afterwards. A complete triumph.