BROKEN GLASS

Salisbury Playhouse

On November 9^th 1938, mobs attack Jewish homes and businesses throughout Germany. The broken glass that litters the streets leads the event to be christened Kristallnacht. On the other side of the world, in Brooklyn, Sylvia Gellburg suddenly loses the ability to walk. Her husband Philip turns to a local doctor for help in curing this psychosomatic affliction.

Now Harry Hyman (Richard Durden) is a doctor with a rather unconventional approach to treatment. His bedside manner involves passionate hand-holding rather than pulse-taking, and his fumbling steps into psychotherapy consist mainly of demanding loudly "What are you trying to tell me?" and then launching into his next bright idea before the patient has a chance to answer. Durden makes him gruff and world-weary, with a delivery reminiscent of the older Clint Eastwood.

As he worries about his wife, Philip (Paul McCleary) - who like so many of Arthur Miller's central characters suffers from a blind devotion to his employer - struggles to keep the lid pressed down firmly on any feelings he might have about being Jewish. His life is the company, and what is happening in Germany is of little interest to him. McCleary gives a gripping performance as a man so tightly-wound that he seems of the verge of imploding.

Meanwhile Sylvia (Fiona Mollinson) remains confined to a wheelchair, and cannot understand why no-one else is very concerned about what the Nazis are doing. She also starts to fall in love with the doctor, although Miller is too intent on getting his messages across to allow these ciphers of his pen to slide into Mills & Boon. The past casts its shadow over the present, and there are the usual Millerian skeletons rattling in the cupboard, waiting to make their dramatic appearance in the second act.

The three main characters' search for the cause of Sylvia's hysterical paralysis makes the play something of a 'what-done-it'. Unfortunately, Broken Glass is not the most sophisticated of thrillers, and in place of a twist in the tale it substitutes a rather cheesy and over-reiterated homily about how we must all learn to live with what we are and make the best of the hand we are dealt. The more adventurous suggestion of some sort of paranormal link between Sylvia and the Jews suffering persecution in Germany fades to make way for the more traditional Miller theme that our nearest and dearest cause us most of the pain in our lives.

Rupert Good's production makes the best of the wordy, low-plot script. Designer Tim Shortall's set - a gigantic mirror smashed into shards which hang threateningly over the players - struggles desperately to lend more depth to Miller's mouthpieces, and the cast - particularly McCleary - work hard to make the characters more empathetic than the playwright easily allows. Presented like this Broken Glass becomes a powerful play, despite the flaws in the script, and easily the most interesting theatre offered by the Playhouse this autumn.

Toby O'Connor Morse

Runs until 20 November. Box office: (01722) 320333