How Prisoners Brought 'Death of a Salesman' to Life
“Everything in that room, and everyone, was shining, just for a moment.”
I went to a play the other night. Selected scenes from “Death of a Salesman,” in a men’s prison, with an all-male cast. It was terrible and hilarious, and beautiful. There were no costumes, save for a towel tucked into one guy’s shorts to simulate a skirt. The props, meanwhile, were an unintentionally eclectic hodgepodge of the few things a prisoner can get his hands on. Mugs became telephones; soap dishes housed imaginary cigarettes; the lid of a box made for a passable grave marker. There were various levels of talent, or lack thereof, though everyone tried their best.
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