REVIEW: All My Sons, Apollo Theatre (2010)

Zoë Wannamaker, steely and determinedly in denial, contrasting with her unruly hair which escapes from the pinned back style, opens the play with the symbolic device Howard Davies used ten years ago. During the thunderstorm, Kate wakes and comes into the garden and sees the trunk of the apple tree, which was planted for Larry, crack in two. If anyone believed in omens this would be it. As Kate recalls her dream we hear the roaring noise of aircraft engines behind the wind and storm. Her low groans when she reads the letter strike to the depths of a bottomless emotional chasm, a mother's love for her son.

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