How many angels can dance on the head of a pin, Dan Sullivan (“ ‘Salesman'--Shrunk in the Big Eye’s Glare,” Sept. 22)? What you’re saying is that you couldn’t get into it. Hey, I never noticed the ceiling wasn’t there. My imagination filled it in. Where’s yours? I didn’t see a 40-year-old Dustin Hoffman. I saw 60-year-old Willy Loman.
“Death of a Salesman” is as safe as “Our Town”? What planet are you living on? As a product of the ‘60s trying to grow up and contribute to the ‘70s and ‘80s (and who didn’t have the privilege of seeing Fredric March in the ‘50s), I was painfully aware there’s a little Willy Loman in myself and most of my friends. We’re still all up against the American Dream.
It made me think and think. And then think some more. And I felt good afterwards. I guess “art” is in the eye of the beholder. Thanks to director Volker Schlondorff, designer Tony Walton and Dustin Hoffman and all the other brilliant actors. It was real to me.