Today's Lomans couldn't afford a ticket. If I paid $840 for one ticket to Death of a Salesman on Broadway starring Philip Seymour Hoffman it would take just one unwrapped plastic wrapper to make me start shooting people. And you know some a-hole's gonna check a sports score during the eulogy monologue.
Instead of humbling its audience through the shock of recognition- the revival of "Death of a Salesman" confers upon those who can afford to see it a feeling of superiority.
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