Joe Keller, played by Tristan Hood, represents the American dream. He is a wealthy businessman with a traditional family with a surviving son that is about to marry. Like the ideal American man in the 1940s, his morality is shaped by the traditional family obligations and capitalism. 

Yet Arthur Miller’s All My Sons, performed by Exeter College Drama Society does not have a happy ending. It was a tragedy that examines the complex dynamics of a family living in post-war America in the 1940s. Joe Keller who owned a factory that manufactured plane engines for the US military. After being charged with shipping defective plane engines that caused the death of twenty one pilots, Joe was exonerated by shifting the blame onto his business partner who was convicted.

It is an opinionated play that reveals the destructive result caused by an individual morally bankrupted by capitalism and burdened by American traditional family values. Directed by Emily White, the play’s sceptical undertones towards American capitalism and family values are highlighted. 

Set in the gardens of Exeter College, the play opens with the audience seemingly eavesdropping on the conversation of Joe Keller’s family. Act I establishes the tensions with the family: between Joe and his wife Kate (Savannah Brooks) on the death of their son Larry, between Joe and his son Chris about whether the latter will stay at home, and between Kate and Chris on his decision to marry Ann Deever (Honor Thompson), the daughter of Joe’s convicted partner. 

An inattentive audience may never catch these three relationships and everything else that were buried within the conversations. That does not come as a surprise. The play is designed as such that the audience is seemingly intruding into the midst of a family conversation and the slow unravelling of the entirety of the situation only happens at the end of Act I. 

Act II sees the turning point in the play when George Deever (Paul Tomlinson), son of Joe’s convicted partner, arrives at Joe’s house to retrieve Ann. Tomlinson precisely portrayed the emotional instability and distress with a tinge of insanity that seems to be ready to spill over at any moment. The conversation between George and the rest of the characters demonstrates each actor’s strong control and understanding of their role. 

It is also in Act II that the audience sees a brilliant portrayal of Kate Keller (Savannah Brooks). Kate Keller is a despicable character; she bears the qualities of a matriarch of a typical American family that is supposed to be loving and act as the powerful counterbalance to the father. Yet she also represents everything that is wrong when those qualities are amplified; being overly caring leads to her refusal to accept the death of Larry, and being overly generous leading to her implicating Joe’s guilt in backstabbing his partner. The fact that Kate is hateable demonstrates Brook’s talent. 

Finally, Act III is highlighted by the performance of Joe Keller. Joe’s character is complex; he is a man of explosive temper who struggles between doing what is right versus doing what is best for his family. The grasp on this character’s emotional depth is portrayed perfectly as Hood conveys Joe’s dedication to his business and most importantly the silent sacrifices he made to his family. It is the anguish, pain, and helplessness that the character displayed in the final moments of Act III that defines Joe’s character and is an excellent reflection of the calibre of the actor. 

The play and actors make an artful choice with silence. Like in Sidney Lumet’s 12 Angry Men, the play uses silence to build up tension. It is the pauses between the arguments and the changing volume of conversation that kept the arguments realistic and unpredictable. It places the audience in a constant state of anxiety to speculate the direction in which a dispute is going to go. 

The one aspect I remained unconvinced by was the depth of love that existed between Chris and Ann. There was not enough revealed, either emotionally or through the substantive writing of the play, to build up the audience’s approval of the relationship between these two. Therefore, when it came to Chris’s decision to leave, the decision did not have the gravitas that it should have had. 

Nevertheless, it is because of the excellent performance of each individual actor that the themes of All My Sons were drawn out clearly. Its commentary on capitalism and the family values in post war America remains relevant to this day. This was not a simple play. Yet, it was well executed. To this end, I extend all my compliments to the cast and crew. 

All the guests arrived and promptly took their seats, as one of the directors (Seb Carrington) announced the play would begin in 5 minutes. I arrived just in time, took my seat, pen in hand, and waited eagerly for the production I’d so anticipated. And then – it began.

Prospero (Artemis Betts) entered, her movement a curious blend of authority and elegance, swaying down the aisle with an ethereal lightness that both veiled and affirmed her power. She reached the centre of the garden stage, stared us down, and planted her wand firmly on the ground – as if commanding us to listen.

The production started in media res. Alonso (Kabir Suri), Gonzalo (Mikela Persson), Antonio (Maxangelo Fenwick), Sebastian (Zoe Rawlings), Trinculo (Tom Onslow) and Ferdinand (Toby Bowes Lyon) appeared at the back of the garden, raised on a stone stage. They screamed into the microphone – words indistinct but raw with panic – as thunder crashed and the ship sank. Prospero stood centre-stage, still and silent, staring out at us; invisible to them, unmistakable to us. From the very first scene, it was clear: She was in control. 

Despite the dramatic beginning, this level of exhilaration did not continue throughout the play. (For context on my review, I’ve only read The Tempest once and haven’t analysed or seen many productions of it, so my sense of how the narrative should be presented isn’t fully formed. However, based on my knowledge of Shakespeare, The Tempest certainly isn’t one of his most action-packed plays, making it particularly challenging to keep the audience engaged.) Thus, to maintain interest, this production, at times, leaned into some of the play’s comedic elements.

Mikela’s portrayal of Gonzalo was particularly effective, capturing his innocent awkwardness through expressive hand gestures and wandering movements. As she rambled across the stage, stopping, and touching the grass she exclaimed, “How lush and lusty the grass looks!” Her comic physicality prompted a burst of laughter from the audience. 

The drunken duo, Trinculo (Tom Onslow) and Stephano (Zoe Rucker), were clearly audiences’ favourites. Their unmatched chemistry, expressed through perfectly timed comic glances, was so strong that even their arrival on stage sparked laughter.

Audibility was a challenge throughout the play – understandable in an outdoor setting where wind and birds chirping often took centre stage. Thus, I often found myself engaging more with the actors’ facial expressions, which were consistently expressive and compelling. Artemis as Prospero was particularly striking; her piercing glares created a powerful presence, while her tone with Miranda and Ferdinand, shifting from gentleness to anger, clearly conveyed her complex, manipulative nature. Her physical gestures, like her guiding of Caliban’s movements, added depth to her control. 

Background noise posed no problem for Miranda (Anabelle Higgins) and Ariel (EP Siegel), whose voices projected clearly across the garden. Miranda’s shifting tones and expressive facial acting conveyed the changing emotions of her relationship with Ferdinand (Toby Bowes Lyon). Toby as Ferdinand portrayed a consistent sense of discomfort that reflected the rushed nature of their relationship, though through this portrayal the initial spark between the characters was not as apparent. Miranda’s voice and facial expressions moved from wonder and fascination at the first meeting to fear and confusion as Prospero essentially forced their engagement. Ariel’s majestic singing added a layer of magic and mystery to the play’s atmosphere.

The play came to its end with a slightly more dramatic tone than the original. Propsero’s power further faded when she released Ariel from her control. The emotive nature of this scene was particularly effective as Ariel stared at Prospero, removed their jacket, and threw it down, before walking down the aisle and laughing maniacally. Director, Seb Carrington, told Cherwell that by the end Ariel had realised that Prospero “is not a good person.” In my view, Ariel’s laughter reflected a sense of relief and joy at their freedom despite its sinister nature.

Miranda appeared, after a costume change, wearing a corset that clearly physically restrained her. Directors, Seb Carrington and Aidan Lazarou, told Cherwell this symbolises “the control Prospero exerts over them,” rushing them into an engagement as one of the last things she can command before losing her power. Prospero’s final speech marks her total loss of authority as she relinquished her rule over the island and prepared to return to Milan – a place she was once oppressed, returning power to men. Although Prospero’s final soliloquy wasn’t delivered with full intensity, the powerful symbolism somewhat compensated. Her dropping of the wand, so firmly held at the start, marked her surrender – she is both physically and symbolically letting go of the magic power that defined her. The moment was heightened further by a dramatic spotlight which faded as the production ended.

While not groundbreaking in its choice of a female Prospero, this production effectively portrays a woman who, as Seb Carrington told Cherwell, “uses her trauma to control and manipulate others.” This production rejuvenates The Tempest through a skilful blend of comedy and tragedy, using the female Prospero’s loss of power to highlight political themes around authority, gender and control, which demonstrates Shakespeare’s enduring relevance.