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January 20, 2005
BY HEDY WEISS Theater Critic

Miller's 'Clock' a guide to facing hard times

While earlier this season the Goodman Theatre imported a slew of stars and expended much capital on "Finishing the Picture," Arthur Miller's newest (and decidedly disappointing) play, the Actors Workshop, a little Edgewater storefront operation with big ambitions, put together an entire season of far more worthy Miller works, including its current production, "The American Clock: A Vaudeville."

Created in 1980, this panoramic piece is based on Miller's own experiences as a young man coming of age during the Great Depression of the 1930s, and it draws on the mosaic style of Studs Terkel's oral history works for its vivid, emblematic portraits. With more than four dozen characters requiring the services of nearly two dozen actors, it's not surprising that this lively, multifaceted play is rarely revived. But now more than ever -- as attempts are under way to dismantle Social Security, one of the most enduring programs to be developed as a result of the Depression -- it has many lessons to teach. And director Jan Ellen Graves and her cast make this memoir and history play -- which is laced throughout with popular songs of the period -- both moving and enjoyable.

At the center of the maelstrom is the comfortable Brooklyn-based Baum family. Lee Baum (Jason Daniels) is Miller's adolescent, college-bound alter ego; Rose Baum (Rebekka James) is his piano-playing mother, a woman who lives in a certain amount of denial; Moe Baum (Neal Grofman) is his father, who tries for as long as possible to keep up the facade that everything is OK, even as his business is tanking, and Lee's cranky, self-involved grandfather (Chuck Zis) hovers in the background. The Baums certainly feel the sharp reversal of fortunes as Lee's college tuition evaporates and Rose's beloved piano and jewelry collection end up at the pawnbrokers. But they are by no means the worst off.

The show, bookended by the ironic use of that optimistic tune "Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries," takes the full measure of what still stands as one of the darkest periods in American history. And through his narrator, Arthur A. Robertson (deftly portrayed by Thomas Edson McElroy) -- that rare investor in the stock market who saw the writing on the wall early, stocked up on gold and actually thrived while others starved -- Miller repeatedly asks one question: What kept the country together through that unrelenting decade?

Of course, not everyone survived. We see the farmers who were thrown off their land through corrupt deals made by the banks holding their mortgages. We see the black hobo (Darren M. Jones) thrown into prison, and the cook (Jones again) who caters parties and is offered a tattered radio in exchange. We hear from debutantes and communists, from welfare mothers and firebrands, and from college students who realize staying in school is better than pounding the pavement for nonexistent jobs. We hear about the men who, in extreme despair, have thrown themselves off the top floors of skyscrapers, and we witness the horrible sight of a distraught man throwing himself on the subway tracks as passengers stand stunned on the platform.

Each and every performance is winningly rendered here, with nearly all the actors playing multiple roles. This "Clock" really ticks.

NOTE: Already produced in this Miller series were "Broken Glass" and "The Last Yankee." Still to come are "The Ride Down Mt. Morgan," an indictment of the greedy 1980s (running Feb. 27-March 27) and "All My Sons," a perfect play for wartime and Miller's first hit (April 17-May 15).

Copyright © The Sun-Times Company
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 Critics' Pick 1/21/05
'American Clock' keeps on ticking
By Kerry Reid
Special to the Tribune
Based in part on Studs Terkel's "Hard Times," "The American Clock" is Arthur Miller's Great Depression "vaudeville," first produced in 1980. It poignantly gets at the heart of the current debates surrounding Social Security reform: Who should Americans trust with their welfare, the government or corporations?

In Jan Ellen Graves' deft staging in the intimate Actors Workshop space, a cast of 20 (most playing multiple roles) takes us on a road trip through one of the nation's darkest eras. As one character points out at the beginning, only the Civil War and the Depression affected the lives of almost every American in their eras. Thomas Edson McElroy as a stockholder-turned-skeptic warns everyone he meets to pull their money from the market before it collapses, while decrying the Hoover administration for "tossing the whole country onto a crap table where nobody is ever supposed to lose."

Meanwhile, a downwardly mobile Jewish family in Brooklyn pawns its possessions and sees a son's dreams of college deferred. A farm family in Iowa is run off its land when the bank forecloses. An angry Bible thumper in the welfare office shouts, "There is not a word about democracy in the Constitution. This is a Christian republic." And when another character notes "talk makes facts," one can imagine Bush strategist Karl Rove nodding in agreement.

The ensemble is all over the map in terms of acting ability, but when they join in a final chorus of "Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries," with Shawn McCartee providing sharp piano accompaniment, we're left to ponder how much of our fabled American optimism is just whistling past the graveyard.

Through Feb. 5 at Actors Workshop Theatre, 1044 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.; 773-728-7529.
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Pioneer Press Skyline, CityLife, January 20, 2005
Depression relived in absorbing Miller play
by Beverly Friend, Theater Critic

The only thing better than Studs Terkel alone, is Terkel as inspiration for Arthur Miller. Among the 50 distinct, varied and always interesting characters in Miller’s panorama ofthe 1930s Depression, some—like a wonderfully charismatic black hobo—spring from Terkel’s “Hard Times”; others are composites drawn from the playwright’s experiences and imagination, while still others—William Durant and Jesse Livermore—are historic figures, all vividly portrayed.

In this kaleidoscopic docudrama, 20 actors fill nearly all the space on the narrow stage of the theater—standing in silent tableau before springing to life before an audience that is only one third larger than the cast.

The song “Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries” brackets the play—cheerfully opening to celebrate the financially exuberant time period just before the crash, sung in refrain in the middle of the financial debacle, and again at the end of the play when war has begun and the economic crises has ended. While Miller selected this song and indicated others to be woven into the story, Director Jan Ellen Graves made final, often ironic, highly appropriate selections of pieces from the period, including “Button Up Your Overcoat,” “It’s Only a Paper Moon,” “The Sunny Side of the Street” and “’S Wonderful.”

Rebekka James, as mother Rose Baum, binds the slim plot together as she frequently sits down beside her son, Lee (Jason Daniels), at the family piano to belt out tunes intended to drown out the woes of their recent bankruptcy. Because her husband, Moe (Neal Grofman), has lost everything, we watch the family slide downhill—unable to afford college tuition, forced to pawn jewelry and ultimately losing not only the all-important piano, but their home as well. The three actors’ skilled portrayals of this family gather momentum while tugging at our heartstrings, and the family dynamics, while less fully developed, bear marked resemblance to those depicted in Miller’s “All My Sons” and “Death of a Salesman.”

Production and cast are splendid as scene rapidly follows scene. Darren M. Jones as the hobo nearly steals the show when he sings about how long he’s spent waiting for a train, and eerily creates its haunting whistle. Dan McNamara poignantly portrays a starving farmer forced off his land. Lloyd Mulvey and Carrie Corrigan enjoy a delightful struggle as a couple whose romance is triggered by the possibility of inheriting an apartment.

Concentric circles of unfortunate relatives, friends, and neighbors, radiate around the Baum family, spreading across the nation to encompass everyone except Arthur A. Robertson (Thomas Edson McElroy) who had the foresight to sell just before the crash. Robertson enjoys the role of narrator, first warning others to let go of their stock, then watching the aftermath for those who failed to heed his advice. He notes there has never been a society that doesn’t have a clock ticking away at it, counting down the minutes to whatever lies ahead—an idea as pertinent today as when Miller wrote it 25 years ago.

Kudos to Actors Workshop Theatre for an outstanding job on a seldom-seen play as it fulfils its commitment to exploring a body of work of one playwright.
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January 14, 2005 		Life is just a bowl of cherries.
Don’t take it serious; life’s too mysterious.
You work, you save, you worry so,
But you can’t take your dough when you go, go, go.

So keep repeating it’s the berries,
The strongest oak must fall,
The sweet things in life, to you were just loaned
So how can you lose what you’ve never owned?

Life is just a bowl of cherries,
So live and laugh at it all.

  Lyrics from Life is Just A Bowl of Cherries
By Lew Brown & Ray Henderson

Miller probes the Depression Era American Psyche

Arthur Miller, born in 1915, essentially grew up in the Great Depression which profoundly influenced his writing. In his 1980 piece, The American Clock, he chronicles America from the 1929 stock market crash through World War II in a Studs Terkel style oral history motif. Laced with many classic, period perfect 30’s songs sung, at times, by the ensemble marks a departure from the usual Arthur Miller play. The show opens with “Life is Just A Bowl of Cherries’” sung by the 20 person cast that underscore the optimistic mood of 1929.

Rather than using one family to typify the middle class American unit as he did in most of his plays, Miller goes for a grand epic from several points of view as he outlines the effects of the stock market crash first on the wealthy then Middle America. We meet Arthur A. Robinson (in a strong turn from Thomas Edson McElroy) a wealthy financier whose business acumen tells him to liquidate his common stocks just before the Crash of 1929. Robinson narrates as well as appears in several scenes.

Miller’s epic is a series of vignettes featuring the Baum family from NYC, a farmer from Iowa, an African-American hobo and an Irish corporate manager. The story of the Baum family with the optimistic teen Lee (Jason Daniels), the delusional father, Moe (Neal Grofman) and the contradictory mother, Rose (Rebekka James) is the lynchpin of this panoramic view of the effects of poverty on various segments of American life. Miller’s theme of oppression is starkly exposed through each anecdote. Money is adored and scorned throughout.

I like the generous use of period music complete with a piano accompaniment (Shawn McCartee) to underscore the mood of the people during these hard times. I liked the acting from the 20 person cast, especially from Jason Daniels, Rebekka James, Neal Grofman, Lloyd Mulvey and Chuck Zis. The play is a tad too long and despite the ambitiously clever staging in the Actors Workshop’s tiny space, the show’s pace drags in places. This is due perhaps to Miller’s somewhat fragmented script.

Director and set designer, Jan Ellen Graves nicely weaves her large cast through the sprawling piece eking every ounce of drama offer. Miller leans dangerously toward socialism (even communism) as he seems to wonder out loud why America didn’t fall apart and surrender to revolution in the 1930’s. The answer lies in the very spirit he dramatizes throughout. Americans are a resilient lot as typified by Darren M Jones’ hobo character.

While not one of Miller’s most memorable works, The American Clock is a worthy oral history of the Great Depression. The Actors Workshop’s production is ambitious, sings well and largely delivers Miller’s memories. Serious theatre patrons (and Arthur Miller fans) need to get to Bryn Mawr Avenue to see this rarely performed show. I liked this show and so will you.
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THE GREAT DEPRESSION REMEMBERED
by Ruth Smerling
Theatreworld Internet Magazine


"There are only two great disasters in American History, the Civil War and, the Great Depression," says young Lee Baum in Arthur Miller’s THE AMERICAN CLOCK. the story is based in part on Studs Terkel’s HARD TIMES, and is now showing at the Actors Workshop Theatre through February 5.

The depression was a time of unexpected financial collapse for the United States. Wealthy people were suddenly poor. People who were able to hang on to their homes were forced to make room for relatives and strangers that tugged at their heartstrings. People all over America were forced to beg for a few morsels to eat and stockbrokers plunged to their death from high windows. Despite a near total financial collapse, many of the American people never lost hope. There were always songs like LIFE IS JUST A BOWL OF CHERRIES playing someplace. The music was light hearted and invigorating. For some, the Depression brought out their better nature and forced them to care deeply about people less fortunate. THE AMERICAN CLOCK pays tribute to the strength of our nation and to the people who struggled through and survived the bleakest time in our history.

THE AMERICAN CLOCK, directed by Jan Ellen Graves, who is also set designer, ingeniously employs a cast of 20 in its small theatre. The story, narrated by Arthur Robertson (Thomas Edson McElroy), looks back over the Great Depression with glimpses of the effects financial ruin had on many people around the country.

Judging by the average American Baum family, family, at first, it looks like everything will be alright. Even though crabby grandpa (Chuck Zis) has moved in, Rose (Rebekka James) has a nightly sing-along at the piano with filled with fun songs and laughter. Then, almost overnight, Moe Baum (Neal Grofman) went from successful businessman planning his son Lee’s (Jason Daniels) education, to having to ask for government assistance. To help out, Rose (Rebekka James), sells off her jewelry piece by piece, to keep bread on the table. The Baums suddenly hear knocks on their door from out of work farmers drifting aimless after barren crops force their farms into foreclosure. Little by little, the rich are reduced to the poor and the poor become more and more helpless.

There’s no food, no work and nothing to count on but worse times ahead. Oddly no one lost hope. No one believed that this great country would perish. People stuck together and sang. And, they were entertained by people like Theodore Quinn, a soft shoe dancer in top hat and tuxedo, played with grace and agility by Tom Camacho.

THE AMERICAN CLOCK never has a dull moment. The large cast works very hard, with some members playing numerous characters, taking on completely new and nearly unrecognizable identity with each costume graphic change. There’s history, lively music and wonderful performances from the 20 talented actors and piano player Shawn McCartee. Even though the cast is ample, each actor lights up the room with their very unique style. A thoroughly entertaining evening.

THE AMERICAN CLOCK, the third in a series of Arthur Miller plays, runs through February 5 at the Actors Workshop theatre, 1044 W. Bryn Mawr. For information and tickets phone 773-728-PLAY or visit the website, Actorsworkshop.org.
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Theater: The American Clock
 by MARY SHEN BARNIDGE
 2005-01-19
The monument unveiled on Broadway in 1980 might have been sculpted by Arthur Miller, but its structure has Studs Terkel written all over it, and E.L. Doctorow’s signature on the blueprints. But who could blame the playwright, after making his name with microcosmic depictions of an America in turmoil, for trying his hand at a WPA mural-sized portrait of the Great Depression? And who can blame the spunky Actors Workshop Theatre for testing the limits of its physical space with a likewise sprawling, panoramic pageant of a production?

But the leisurely pace of a book does not always translate to the abbreviated universe of a play. Miller’s narrative conceit of having a single family—the nouveau-riche Mr. and Mrs. Baum of Manhattan, the latter’s sister in Brooklyn, their naive children and grumpy grandfathers—serve as the focus, rather than the lens, of his historical docudrama places responsibility for holding our attention upon personalities purposely rendered generic, with none of the rich candor of individuals speaking for themselves that has become Terkel’s stock-in-trade.

But insight into human beings forced to rely on their own ingenuity is precisely what engages us: The songwriter who courts his landlady’s daughter to delay paying the rent, the dentist reduced to selling flowers in a subway station that will become his grave, the white southern-county sheriff meekly offering his household radio to a black short-order cook as collateral on a dinner to impress a recruiter for the government-paid State Patrol. Contrasted with such extreme measures, the anguish of bourgeois citizens fearing a communist takeover interrupt, more than they amplify, our understanding of the crisis at hand.

But though the literary conceits of The American Clock—we also get ringside commentary by a prescient stockholder who bailed before the Crash of 1929—and the inclusion of popular songs from the era make for a long sit-down in storefront-circuit chairs, director Jan Ellen Graves keeps the performances of her predominantly-young, uniformly-enthusiastic, players well within the boundaries of their cozy environment. In the wake of big-cast epics following 2003’s The Cider House Rules, the [Actors Workshop Theatre] looks to be a contender, wanting only a little more breathing room.
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THE AMERICAN CLOCK Arthur Miller's generous 1979 remembrance of the Depression and its aftermath unashamedly imitates the photo-realism of Clifford Odets. Newsreel-like vignettes capture everything from the great stock market crash to World War II as Miller creates his own living newspaper, rich with the period's resilience and regrets, through a 150-minute, Terkel-like oral history embellished by the time's wonderfully hopeful songs. We get testimony from a Brooklyn family who reluctantly go on the dole, farmers reduced to hobos, angry lefties, and repentant capitalists. Though the 20 performers in Jan Ellen Graves's staging are sometimes stiff, for the most part they bring it home and keep it real. What truly matters here is Miller's fascinating ambivalence about an era that brought out the best in government and the worst in business and delivered an unflinching look at what Americans can do and undo. --Lawrence Bommer Actors Workshop Theatre, 1044 W. Bryn Mawr, 773-728-7529. Through 2/5: Thu-Sat 8 PM, Sun 3 and 7:30 PM. $15-$20. (1-20-05)

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