This isn’t a tragedy that makes you shed a tear, except from maybe in laughter at Suchet’s joyful mixture of slapstick comedy and precision timing.
The Price, written in 1968, is Arthur Miller’s lesser-known Post Modernist tale which shows the terrible scars of the Great Depression left on a New York family.
Police officer Victor (Brenan Coyle) returns to the old Franz family attic apartment to sell off the relics of his parent’s possessions. He invites 89-year-old Russian Jewish furniture dealer Gregory Solomon (David Suchet) to appraise the family’s belongings.
Ever since the death of their father 16 years ago, Victor and his brother Walter (Adrian Likis) have never spoken over Victor’s resentment of never pursuing his ambitions to look after his ailing parent.
Victor’s wife Esther (Sara Stewart) is in the middle of the feuding brothers and openly tells Victor that she resents him for never having made more of himself.
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The drama comes from the bubbling tension which eventually boils over to the point where Walter grabs Solomon by the throat, but it is sometimes far too static and perhaps a little stale.
Energy is definitely sapped in the second half with the long disappearance of Suchet, who is simply electric.
The audience erupted into belly laughs as Suchet peeled and ate a boiled egg, which takes some skill. What’s more, his accent was as flawless as his delivery.
Coyle’s accent is entirely convincing too and the chemistry between him and Suchet is one of the things that makes the play worthwhile.
While Lekis and Stewart give strong performances, they are dwarfed by their co-stars and their New York accents do occasionally slip from time to time.
This is certainly not the best of Miller’s work, but Jonathan Church’s production is powerful and the stage design is spectacular.
The Price is a serious play and is a treat for any Avant-Garde fans, but may not be everyone’s cup of tea.