Arthur Miller's The Price, first staged in 1967, remains one of the playwright's most quietly devastating works. Now enjoying a rare London revival at the Marylebone Theatre under the direction of Jonathan Munby, this production proves that Miller's exploration of family obligation, resentment, and the cost of sacrifice has lost none of its power. Anchored by four outstanding performances, and one that borders on the legendary, this is a production that rewards patience and rewards it handsomely.
A Story of Sacrifice and Family Fractures
For those unfamiliar with the play, The Price centres on Victor Franz, an ageing New York City police officer who has come to sell an attic full of inherited furniture and heirlooms. These possessions once belonged to his father, for whom Victor put his own ambitions on hold when care was needed during the devastating aftermath of the Great Depression. His estranged brother Walter, a successful Manhattan surgeon, has played no part in either the caregiving or the disposal of their father's belongings. Victor's wife Esther, meanwhile, seems primarily concerned with securing the best possible financial outcome from the sale.
Into this fraught domestic situation arrives Gregory Solomon, an octogenarian antique dealer of boundless energy and questionable anecdotes, brought in to appraise the furniture and offer a price. But as the play's title suggests, the true reckoning goes far deeper than the value of old chairs and a much-discussed harp. This is about the price each of these characters has paid in wasted potential, broken relationships, and the corrosive weight of choices made decades earlier.
Elliot Cowan's Towering Victor Franz
Elliot Cowan delivers a performance of remarkable depth as Victor, transforming a character who could easily become a passive vessel of resentment into a deeply felt portrait of quiet devastation. His face is clenched throughout, his body language speaks of decades of defeat, and his voice carries a muted growl that occasionally breaks into something far more vulnerable. Cowan's eyes convey a kindness shot through with desperate sadness, making Victor not merely sympathetic but profoundly human.
It is perhaps the first time watching The Price where the sheer scale of Victor's role becomes apparent. This is an epic part, demanding sustained emotional intensity across the full evening, and Cowan rises to it magnificently. His navigation around his late father's empty armchair, treating it as though the old man still occupies it, is one of those small, instinctive choices that elevates good acting into something truly moving. When his emotional breakdown finally arrives, it is almost unbearable to witness, yet impossible to look away from.
Henry Goodman's Masterclass as Gregory Solomon
And then there is Henry Goodman. The double Olivier Award winner takes on the role of Gregory Solomon and delivers what can only be described as a masterclass in theatrical performance. Solomon is one of Miller's most flamboyant and irresistible creations: a wily, loquacious dealer who claims to have been an acrobat and a member of the British navy, and who is prone to producing a snack or a sudden fainting spell from nowhere when confronted about anything inconvenient.
Previous London revivals have seen David Suchet and the late Warren Mitchell tackle this gift of a role, and both were terrific. But Goodman inhabits Solomon with a different kind of aplomb entirely. His performance has one foot planted firmly in the schtick of Jewish vaudeville tradition and the other in the hardbitten reality of a man who has fought tooth and nail for every success. The result is magnetic, stupendous, and endlessly watchable. It is the kind of performance that audiences will be talking about for years.
Yet it speaks volumes about the quality of this ensemble that when Goodman exits for extended sections of the second half, you do not miss him. The drama between the remaining characters is compelling enough to hold its own weight.
The Full Ensemble and Munby's Detailed Direction
Faye Castelow brings a brittle, volatile energy to Esther, Victor's increasingly frustrated wife. Her physicality is fascinating to observe: she moves like a mechanical doll slowly winding down, a precise physical distillation of the growing discontent eating away inside her character. It is a carefully calibrated performance that complements Cowan's restrained intensity perfectly.
John Hopkins, meanwhile, invests Walter with an oil-smooth self-confidence and urbane ruthlessness that makes the surgeon's surface charm entirely convincing. Crucially, though, Hopkins also makes fully credible the notes of unhappiness and instability roiling just beneath that polished exterior. As revelations and recriminations fly in the second half, Cowan and Hopkins become so thoroughly convincing as brothers, however dysfunctional their relationship, that they even begin to resemble each other physically.
Jonathan Munby's direction is rich in detail throughout. The production benefits enormously from Jon Bausor's exquisitely cluttered set design, which fills the attic space with oppressively dark furnishings, antique lamps, and that much-haggled-over full-sized harp. Anna Watson's atmospheric lighting completes the picture, creating a space that feels simultaneously like a museum and a mausoleum for the Franz family's lost ambitions.
A Slow Burn That Catches Fire
If there is a criticism to be made, it is that the first act takes its time getting going. Before Goodman's Solomon makes his entrance, the early scenes can feel like something of a plodder, carefully laying groundwork without always generating the dramatic energy to keep audiences fully gripped. This is a long evening, and there are moments in the first half where the production's patience with Miller's detailed scene-setting tests the audience's own patience.
However, the much stronger second half more than compensates. Once all four characters are in play and the family's carefully maintained fictions begin to unravel, the drama becomes genuinely riveting. Miller's genius for stripping bare carefully constructed characters and exposing the uncomfortable truths lurking beneath is on full display. The revelations land with real force, partly because Munby's production has earned them through that slow, meticulous build-up.
Why Arthur Miller Still Matters
The Price is not performed nearly as often as Miller's more celebrated works like Death of a Salesman, The Crucible, or All My Sons. This is a shame, because it contains some of his most perceptive writing about the long shadow of family obligation and the stories we tell ourselves to justify the paths we have taken. The play's setting in the late 1960s, with characters still bearing the psychological and financial scars of the Depression decades earlier, speaks powerfully to how trauma and economic hardship ripple through generations.
Munby's revival makes a compelling case for The Price to be considered among Miller's finest achievements. The play's central question, whether Victor was truly noble in his sacrifice or whether he used duty as an excuse to avoid the risk of pursuing his own ambitions, is handled with nuance and complexity. Miller, characteristically, refuses to offer easy answers.
Should You Book?
This is a production that demands your attention and rewards it generously. If you have any appreciation for first-rate ensemble acting, Henry Goodman's Solomon alone is worth the price of admission. Elliot Cowan's Victor is equally essential viewing: a performance of such sustained emotional honesty that it may be the definitive interpretation of the role for a generation. The first act requires patience, but the payoff in the second half is substantial.
For theatregoers who enjoy Miller's penetrating dissection of American family life, or who simply want to see some of the finest acting currently on offer in London, this revival at the Marylebone Theatre comes strongly recommended. It is a reminder that great plays, given the right cast and a thoughtful director, can feel as urgent and alive as anything new.
Looking for more outstanding plays in London? Browse our full list of shows currently running across the West End and beyond, or explore the latest theatre news and reviews on BritishTheatre.com.
Susan Novak has a lifelong passion for theatre. With a degree in English, she brings a deep appreciation for storytelling and drama to her writing. She also loves reading and poetry. When not attending shows, Susan enjoys exploring new work and sharing her enthusiasm for the performing arts, aiming to inspire others to experience the magic of theatre.
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