My review of Arthur Miller’s A View from the Bridge at the Ahmanson Theater.
My son purchased tickets for us to see this play. He made it a point to describe the difference between this performance (a play) and others we had seen (musicals). I very much appreciated his attempt to convince me I might enjoy this performance but all I could think of was Cats. I have no doubt everyone involved in the original concept of that winner wrote it while experiencing an extended hallucinogenic mind trip. People dressed as cats dressed as rats dressed as roaches. Seriously? And that worthless railroad cat? And the UFO-riding cat god? Anyway, my son was excited so I pasted the smile on my face and didn’t let on that I secretly expected this dramatic “play” to be nothing more than another Cats.
We had tickets to the 2:00PM show in Los Angeles. As I may have mentioned elsewhere, in Southern California you have to look at drive time, not distance. The theater was about 40 miles away but that translates into about a 90 minute ride. We met for breakfast and then, because we had to be somewhere at a specific time for a specific event, we went to the bank. Since that turned out to be a wasted trip (I forgot my ATM card) we went to Massage Envy to schedule massages. This did not sit well with my son since he was concerned about us being late. For the record, however, he did schedule a massage for himself so his argument was moot.
Jumping on the 10 (San Bernardino) freeway, we headed west. All was well until we came down the back side of Kellogg Hill. I had no idea CalTrans (California Department of Transportation) had the freeway torn up from Covina to the west end of Baldwin Park by the 605 (the San Gabriel River) freeway. This added to our drive time. Luckily, however, once we passed the 605 all was well until we got near the transition to the 710 (Long Beach) freeway. If you read my roller derby review, you’re familiar with my last experience in this area. But since it was broad daylight and we were headed for Highway 101 to the 110 (Harbor) freeway, we were able to avoid that nightmare.
I want to take a moment and make a note about referring to Southern California roadways. If you happen to drive into our area and listen to traffic reports, you need to know the nuances of traffic reporting descriptions. First off, freeway numbers are preceded with the word “the”. For example to get to the Ahmanson we took the 10 past the 57, past the 605, past the 710, to the 101 to the 110. Large interchanges of freeways are named. For example, the Four Level, the East LA Interchange and the Orange Crush. Finally, one section of freeway refers to a specific stretch. I was on the 10 freeway section known as the San Bernardino freeway. Had I remained on the 10 past its intersection with the 110, it would have been called the Santa Monica freeway. The freeway retains the same numeric nomenclature, but hearing there is a high-speed chase on the Santa Monica freeway is significantly different than hearing the same report on the San Bernardino freeway depending on where you are. If you noticed, I took the 10 to the 101 to the 110 but I also commented that the 10 intersected with the 110. Why didn’t I take the 10 to the 110? Because I didn’t want to go through the East LA Interchange. It makes sense when you’re here.
Anyway, we arrived at the Ahmanson about half an hour early because the traffic through downtown was uncharacteristically light, almost to the point of non-existence. Parking at the theater was ridiculously easy. I had done an internet search for parking near the location and all the results indicated paid lots about ½ mile away. My son told me not to worry about it because we could park at the theater itself, which was right freaking there. You exit the 110 north off of Grand, take a right and within ½ mile the theater is on the right. You pay before you enter the garage and everything is super-accessible.
Because it was our first time there we followed the signs to the theater from inside the underground parking structure. That was a mistake. We wound up at the far end of the theater complex which includes the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and something else I haven’t taken the time to figure out, yet. Had we exited the parking structure by the stairs immediately in front of us, we would have been right next to our destination. But it was no big deal as we were having fun.
The outdoor waiting area between the theater and the pavilion was very nice. It had cart vendors selling shrink-wrapped sandwiches and salads as well as sodas and alcohol. People varied from what I called “theater-types” to chuckleheads like me. I definitely noticed the people there were not the same types of people in whose company I usually find myself. No one called me “boss”. No one gave me the quick, knowing nod shared by shot callers, foot soldiers and bros. No one gave the Mighty Beard of Righteousness a second glance. In fact, it was quite refreshing! Everyone there was just there. If someone was putting on airs or fronting, I didn’t notice. I didn’t have to do a threat assessment every time someone new walked into my line of sight. The people were comfortable, calm and relaxed. I felt welcome and accepted which is not something that comes easy to me.
They opened the doors at about 1:45, which was fantastic. The coffee and water I had borrowed for breakfast wanted to be returned. After a quick briefing by the main door usher about this two-hour play not having an intermission, we bolted for the men’s room. The highly accurate directions we received were no more than, “it’s over there.” We descended a flight of stairs and approached another layer of ushers who told us the only restroom on their floor was the ladies room. Shockingly, rather than volunteer where the men’s room was we had to ask again. They told us it was one more floor down “to the left.” We went down the last flight of stairs and found it. It’s not “to the left” by the way, it’s straight in front of you. Whatever.
Business finished, we watched a lead usher instructing the door ushers on how to do their jobs. Smile, be polite, hand out programs, etc. In an odd WTF moment, the lead usher told the door ushers to stand at their posts. Then, in as long as it took her to draw a breath, she told them to come back because the meeting wasn’t over. I have no idea what that was about but it makes me think time travel does exist and the main usher phased out for a moment. It really was weird.
Since it was still early and they didn’t have the doors open yet, I examined my ticket. It said we were in section SRA, seats 22 and 24. We were to enter through door 9. Door 9, by the way, was all the way at the front of the theater; the last door by which you could enter. I made jokes about SRA meaning we had to stand in front of the stage and my son would reply that I was close. It was cryptic but I didn’t pay too much attention to it. Finally, the doors were opened and we were let in.
My son went first and turned towards the stage. At this point I was pretty excited. We were going to be close to the stage and not in the nosebleed sections where we usually sit when I buy the tickets. And then my excitement turned to concern when he walked up a set of stairs in front of the stage onto the stage itself. I stood at the bottom and told him to “get back down here” because I was worried we were going to be tossed out. The usher at the bottom of the stairs said, “are you together? Can I see your ticket?” and then told me to follow him; he was going in the right direction. So I followed him up the stairs. Oh. My. Gosh.
Our seats were ON THE STAGE FLOOR! We sat in a set of risers that had been erected on either side of the stage. We were on the first row, about five feet away from the edge of the stage just above the centerline. I could not believe it. I had him take pictures from our seats looking out into the general seating before the Praetorian Guard came and informed us that photography from our on-stage seats was highly discouraged. But I have a couple of photos I will cherish from that special day. Only about 60 people could sit on either side of the stage.
I won’t ruin the play by describing the action but I will make some comments about the stage and the actors. Regarding the stage, they had created a smaller self-contained performance area on the main stage. The white floor of the performance area was ringed by a series of clear lexan or some other clear glass-like material that also had a bench built along the top of the entire rim of the material. The performance area itself was probably 28’ x 20’. Since we were sitting right there, sometimes the actors were no more than 4’ away from us. I was so blown away by everything; the seats, the acting and the stage construction, I could not have had a better time.
Regarding the actors, I’m not a theater critic. All I know is that I thoroughly enjoyed every single one of the performances by each actor through I do have a couple of comments (of course). At one point, a character asks, “Are you my cousin?” to which the other replies, “Yes, I am.” That is immediately followed by, “This is my brother.” So I’m no genealogist, but my question is this: if you and I are cousins and you have a brother, wouldn’t he be my cousin, also? Also, there is a point where another character comes onto the performance stage. He comes less than a third of the way onto the stage and much of this person’s “dialog” is narrated by someone else. They are on the stage for not more than ten minutes. Yet at the end of the play, when the cast is receiving a standing ovation, there’s that actor taking a bow with the rest of the troupe. I thought that was odd. Yes, they did a good job and all that, but come on! Again, I’m not criticizing. I enjoyed their performance.
But the women. Both were very beautiful. I know that sounds shallow but they were. And one of them gave us a special treat! I highly doubt anyone who reads this is in her circle of friends or acquaintances, but I don’t say this to embarrass her. At one point, when she was standing about five feet in front of us, she and another actor have a scene where they are in close proximity to each other. By an honest accident, her short skirt lifted up and we had a full-on butt shot of her underwear. Seconds later she removed her top and stood in front of us in a flesh-colored bra. So, what’s the first thing I do? If you know me, you know the answer. I looked away. So while all the other “gentlemen” in our section were getting an eyeful, I was checking out my shoes. And you know what? I’m not embarrassed or ashamed to admit it. I’m old enough to be her father. I’m certain the last thing she thought about when she took the role was how I was going to react to her being (for the most part) topless. But I did think it was funny.
I told my son afterward that there used to be a time when a father would take his son to a brothel and have one of the “ladies” make a “man” out of him. Now, in 2016, the tables had turned. My son had taken me to a legitimate theater to watch semi-nude acting! I know, I know; it wasn’t semi-nude because she still had her bra on. But still.
And then there was the lead actor, Frederick Weller. He was in a TV show I used to watch called “In Plain Sight.” Dude, I really, really enjoyed your performance. However, I am an ass. Every time you put on your scowl face to show you were pissed off, I chuckled. A few years ago when I did Tae Kwon Do, I competed. I had an instructor at an event who told me my “fighting face” wasn’t aggressive enough. Hello! I have a round Charlie Brown face. I don’t know how aggressive you can make it! He told me I needed to practice my fighting face in the mirror. That was one of the funniest things I had heard. So when I saw you making your scowl face I imagined how long you must have spent in front of a mirror trying to make it right. The first time I saw it I almost laughed out loud. Not because of you but because of the memory.
The play ended and everyone applauded. Then they started standing up. Again, I am not a regular theater-type, so I don’t know the rules. When do you give a standing ovation? It was neither the opening night nor the closing night. It was a really enjoyable performance but where’s the line between enthusiastic clapping and a standing ovation? Plus, being on the first row with pretty much everyone else behind you, it’s hard to know when a standing ovation is happening. So while I’m applauding away with all the fine young actors standing an arm’s length in front of me, everyone behind me is standing up. It wasn’t until I looked across to the other side that I noticed they were almost all standing. Their first row was still seated, also. So I guess I need to brush up on when to stand or not.
The ride home was uneventful although I did piss off a couple of drivers through the Rosemead and Temple City areas who thought that because of the cars they drove they should have unimpeded access to any lane they chose without using a turn indicator of any sort. If you’re familiar with the areas and recognize those that drive with over-sized green banker’s visors covering their faces and left arm-only sleeves, you know exactly to which group I refer. I can tailgate like a NASCAR driver if properly motivated and watching you and your Mercedes or Lexus lose in a battle of wills doesn’t make me a man but it does make me feel better in the automobile culture that is Los Angeles.
I highly recommend going to see this play. I was thankful it was not a musical and now I honestly can say I know the difference. I was told it was strictly a drama but there were parts that were very funny. The end does have a twist everyone might enjoy. If I had to say anything less than glowing about the play it would be this: I have no idea what time period the play occurred. I’m assuming the 1940s or 50s. All of the actor’s clothing could have been from that period except for the young girl. Her dress and her hair were very modern. It was slightly confusing but not enough for me to flag it and call B.S. on the performance.
If you see this play you won’t be disappointed.