All My Sons

After a sold-out run, National Theatre Live is bringing Ivo van Hove’s recent adaptation of Arthur Miller’s classic play All My Sons to the big screen. Preceded by a Q&A with the talented Paapa Essiedu and Tom Glynn-Carney, who play Chris and George, respectively, expectations are high, given all the noise the production has already made. In the end, it does not disappoint. If some of the spectacle would be more impactful seen live at the theatre – the loud bang punctuating the dramatic climax, the drastic light changes – the emotional pull remains largely intact, with the savvy camerawork and close-ups allowing the viewer to be fully immersed in this gut-wrenching, all-too-relevant tragedy.

Designed by Jan Versweyveld, the setting is bare: suburban, post-war America rendered as a tall wall with one large window, resembling the sun or moon. The fallen tree is a perpetual reminder of loss, visually striking and symbolically charged. Versweyveld’s lighting design fills any blank spaces, flawlessly carrying the narrative. It can be unforgiving and glaring, or warmer and welcoming.

The tragedy unfolds with incredible precision and the best kind of controlled chaos: the prologue showing the fallen tree, followed by an introduction to this industrial world and its inhabitants, namely the Kellers and their neighbours. The family’s patriarch, Joe Keller (Bryan Cranston), is the epitome of the American dream: a man who worked hard his whole life to build his legacy, providing for his wife Kate (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) and two sons. Carefully planted clues, however, hint at suffered loss and darkness beneath the surface.

The war, for starters: a lost son, Larry, and another trying to move on despite his mother’s inability to accept his brother’s death. But also, a scandal. Without resorting to too much exposition too soon, we eventually learn that Joe’s factory produced a batch of faulty cylinder heads, leading to the deaths of 21 pilots. Joe was initially accused but then acquitted, while one of his employees, Steve, took all the blame for the fatal mistake.

To complicate things further, Steve’s daughter Ann (Hayley Squires), once Larry’s sweetheart, is now in love with Chris. Squires imbues Ann with a strong and understandable desire to love and be loved again, alongside the strength to hold her ground. Her marriage plans with Chris have one obstacle, however: Kate, who is still waiting for Larry to come home. Larry exists as a cry that Jean-Baptiste holds in her throat throughout. Her grief is an electric wire, wrapped in maternal warmth. When the ending shines a light on the real reasons behind Kate’s refusal, her final cry, alongside the deep betrayal masterfully portrayed by Essiedu, lands with a ferocity that will be hard to shake off.

Cranston is equally perfect as Keller: on the surface, friendly and suave, he embodies a capitalism that folds in on itself, its architect eventually blinded by the very shiny objects he holds before his eyes. And one can imagine what it must have felt like to be literally blinded by a white light as George makes his entrance, carrying the truth that will lead Joe to his downfall as he is finally forced to face his actions.

One of the best aspects of this adaptation is how it undulates perpetually between emotional states, where a heated argument can turn into a playful sparring match between father and son. The audience is kept on the edge of their seat, awaiting a resolution whilst perhaps dreading it. In the end, the brilliance of this cast, their ability to play off each other, brought to life by Ivo van Hove’s vision, ensures that All My Sons remains as powerful on the big screen.

Benedetta Mancusi
Photos: Jan Versweyveld

All My Sons is showing in cinemas from 16^th April 2026. For further information or to book, visit the theatre’s website here.

Watch the trailer for All My Sons here: