Death of a Salesman, you know, is back on Broadway right now, presumably still being assigned in high schools, and likely still haunting the open American highway, gingerly, gently, as more a faint smoky grey wisp of haunt than a yawning black open pit of doom. It does Miller’s play a disservice, though, to relegate it to the byways of assigned reading or viewing, Philip Seymour Hoffman or no, because Miller touched on something ineluctably American in that play, and variations on the theme – like the Highwaymen’s skeletal adaptation, This Great Country, which is site-specific to Lucky Lady Bingo and will play at the big old pink barn only twice more, on the 5th and 6th – only serve to suck more marrow from the bone. Because, you know, Willy Loman was a salesman. Just like the rest of us. (FULL ARTICLE: Jeanne Claire van Ryzin, Austin American-Statesman)