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All My Sons review: Ivo Van Hove's blistering adaptation brings the house, and the tree, down
Ivo Van Hove’s blistering revival of All My Sons doesn’t just tear the tree down, it brings the house down too. His minimalist, razor-edged approach to Arthur Miller's text, quietly exposes the Keller family’s corrupt roots. It’s raw, deeply human, and exhilarating. Miller’s classic follows the Keller household in post-war America. Their son Larry is missing, and the family’s life has rearranged itself around that unresolved absence. When son, Chris (Paapa Essiedu), confesses his intent to marry Larry’s former fiancée, Ann (Hayley Squires), his mother, Kate (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) erupts. “If you marry her, you’re pronouncing him dead,” Kate’s desperate plea opens the fault lines beneath the household, pushing the family toward buried truths they’ve been avoiding for the past three years. Van Hove, known for reimagining classics, including his acclaimed A View from the Bridge with Mark Strong, lets the drama breathe by refusing to rush the text, allowing us to savour the script and enjoy the actor's lived-in performances. Jan Versweyveld’s minimalist set reflects this. A fallen trunk lies across the stage, a symbol of the Keller family’s fractured roots - a broken family tree. Behind it stands a plain, brown house with a single wide circular window at its centre. Through lighting, the window doubles as the sun, the moon, and a watchful eye. The narrow doorway compresses every entrance and exit, reflecting how tightly the characters are bound to their small-town lives. There’s no room for Kate, Chris or Joe (Bryan Cranston) to escape. This marks Bryan Cranston’s West End debut, but it isn’t the first time he’s appeared on a London stage. The Breaking Bad actor previously starred in Van Hove’s Network at the National Theatre, which saw him take home an Olivier Award. After another enthralling performance, we wouldn’t be surprised if he picked up one more. Cranston’s Joe begins with the warmth of a man who prides himself on hard work and family loyalty, but the cracks show early. He charts Joe’s gradual retreat into stubborn self-preservation with ease; it’s a performance built on small shifts rather than grand gestures. His simmering refusal to face the consequences of his actions makes the final moments chilling, not because they’re loud, but because they’re inevitable. He knows what he’s done, and Cranston lets that knowledge boil inside, until it can no longer stay contained. It’s explosive. This isn’t a star vehicle, however, it’s a constellation. With the entire (inter)stellar cast elevating the production at every turn.
24 Nov, 2025 | By Sian McBride