“Wendell Pierce on the role of a lifetime in Death of a Salesman” by Robin Rose Parker for The Washington Post, 19 July 2022.
Q: I wonder, did you ever imagine that you would play the role of Willy Loman?
A: I would have never dreamt that this could happen. And that makes it even more special because I stand in the shadow of so many people, for so many years — and this is the thing that really touches me: I know who have dreamed of it and hoped for the opportunity but knew they would never get the chance. Probably left this earth with that disappointment and heartache — that unsung heart song, as Arthur Miller says. And for them, I step out on that stage and in their spirit give all that I humanly can give so that their unsung heart song will be heard. Giving voice to those who were voiceless for generations. And to know that being specific is the thing that makes it universal. So the message of the play is only elevated even more and speaks to everyone in the same way that it always has. You know, people always talk about there is this interpretation that you are doing, and I say: No, I’m doing Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. I’m bringing who I am to it. In the same way that small fraternity of men — Lee J. Cobb, George C. Scott, Dustin Hoffman, Brian Dennehy and Philip Seymour Hoffman — in the 70-year history of the play gave voice to it on Broadway. And for that opportunity, and this historic position that I am in as the first Black actor who is doing it [on Broadway], I think of James Edwards and Roger Robinson and Ira Aldridge and Paul Robeson and Ossie Davis and all those men who so inspired me to be an actor. And I am lifted up on the courage and the resilience that they had. And, yes, I have fear, but I also have courage. And that’s how I approach this play, and that’s the phenomenal opportunity that I have, the phenomenal opportunity that the play has right now. It is timely. And it is timeless, and it is time that it be done.
Q: And so the play itself is the same, but you and the four characters are Black and everyone else is White.
A: That’s right. Five, actually, in the family. We are the only Black characters. But it gives a new ring to the lines. There is insult that happens in the middle of the play, that people hear so clearly and I actually don’t even say it, but they hear the insult because they know the position of this Black man in 1949. The danger of being in a compromising position with a White woman. The danger of challenging a boss. The irresponsibility and shame and guilt of a man who was supposed to provide for his family, but in the face of insurmountable odds against him, he’s lying to himself and what impact that has. The shame he feels but even more importantly, the guilt of disappointing his family. Those lines just ring out: “Linda, there is so much that I want to make for you. There is a living I want to make for you. … A man can’t go out the same way that he came in. He has to add up to something.” That is a heavy, heavy burden. It’s a spiritual burden of: I am destroying the lives of my family because of my inability as a man. And that is such an investigation that Arthur Miller had in this play. That’s the reason it still speaks to people 70 years after the fact. It’s crushing. And to add to that, where we are as African Americans in 1949, when this play is taking place — is it a futile dream? Is it a pipe dream? How awful is it for you to even believe in this American Dream when there is no evidence that you should, but you still do? That’s the ultimate disappointment. A crushing disappointment.
So it is something that I have to be very careful with. I never subscribed to the idea that actors would often say, “Oh, I have to detach myself from a role.” Always dramatic. But for this one it was different, especially at this point of my career. There is a similarity and a semblance of what Willy Loman is going through. Am I the mediocre man? Are my best days behind me? Have I sacrificed my family? And am I worthy of their love? Of even having what I have? And am I losing it? And I had to, as a middle-aged man, be careful that I don’t get to where Willy gets to.