Saw a preview of The Man Who Had All The Luck at the Donmar last night.  It was originally a disaster for Arthur Miller, only running for four nights.  Sixty years later, it's being rediscovered.

What an odd play.  There's an awful lot of old-fashioned fussiness and self-conscious Americana that hasn't stood up well to parody over the years, but there's also a proper fable about the nature of luck and how it can be destructive.  I think the ending is too pat, but the acting is really wonderful, even when it has to get all Millerian and overwrought.

Even the American accents are pretty good, aside from one guy who sounds a bit too much like Ahab.  There's one clunking exception, though.  The hero's brother is called Amos, which everyone insists on pronouncing the English way, to rhyme with "Hay Moss".  Americans don't say it that way; we only accent the first syllable (not both) and rhyme it with "Seamus".  It distracted me all evening.

Well, that and the plonker who sat behind me braying about why he didn't like Arthur Miller.  This, even before the curtain came up.  Why buy a ticket then?