You ever walk into an old attic and just feel the weight of everything you didn't do? That’s basically the opening vibe of The Price Arthur Miller wrote back in 1967. It’s not about some grand historical tragedy or a witch hunt in Salem. Honestly, it’s much smaller than that, which is exactly why it’s so much more uncomfortable to watch. It’s about two brothers, a pile of dusty furniture, and the realization that the "sacrifices" we make for our families might actually be excuses we use to hide from our own potential.
Most people talk about Death of a Salesman when they bring up Miller. And sure, Willy Loman is the poster child for the American Dream going off the rails. But The Price? It’s arguably more personal. It deals with the fallout of the Great Depression—an event that basically broke Miller’s own father—and puts it into a room with two men who haven't spoken in sixteen years.
What Really Happens in The Price by Arthur Miller
The setup is deceptively simple. Victor Franz, a New York City cop who’s just about ready to retire, meets his estranged brother Walter in the attic of their late father's brownstone. The building is getting torn down. They need to sell the furniture. That’s it. That’s the "plot."
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But then Gregory Solomon walks in. He’s an 89-year-old antique dealer who is, hands down, one of the best characters Miller ever created. He’s there to appraise the harp, the dining table, and the armoires, but he ends up appraising their entire lives instead. Solomon is the one who reminds us that the "price" of anything—whether it’s a chair or a career—is totally subjective.
The Two Brothers: Sacrifice vs. Success
Victor is the "good" son. He gave up his dreams of becoming a scientist to support their father after the 1929 crash. He’s spent twenty-eight years in a uniform he never really liked, carrying a sense of moral superiority like a shield. He thinks he’s the martyr.
Then you’ve got Walter. Walter left. He became a successful, wealthy surgeon. He didn’t help with the old man, and Victor hates him for it. But when Walter shows up, he drops a massive truth bomb: their father actually had money hidden away the whole time.
Victor’s sacrifice? It might have been for nothing. Or worse, it might have been a choice he made because he was too scared to try and fail in the real world. That’s the kicker. Miller forces us to ask if we’re actually "doing the right thing" or if we’re just taking the path of least resistance and calling it "duty."
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Why the 1968 Context Matters (and Why It Doesn't)
When the play premiered at the Morosco Theatre in February 1968, the world was on fire. Vietnam was escalating, and the country was deeply divided. Miller actually said he wrote the play as a response to the "absurd" theater of the time—plays where characters didn't have a past.
He wanted to show that the past isn't just a memory; it’s a physical weight. In the play, the furniture is literally piled to the ceiling. You can't even move without bumping into a relic of who you used to be.
Even though the specific references to the Depression might feel a bit dated to a modern audience, the core conflict is timeless. You've probably felt it at a Thanksgiving dinner or a funeral. That specific tension when you realize your sibling remembers your childhood completely differently than you do.
A History of Heavy Hitters
One reason The Price Arthur Miller remains a staple in regional theaters and on Broadway is the meatiness of the roles. It’s a four-person masterclass.
- 1968 Original: Featured Pat Hingle and Arthur Kennedy.
- 1971 TV Movie: George C. Scott won an Emmy for playing Victor.
- 2017 Revival: This was a big one. Mark Ruffalo played Victor, Tony Shalhoub was Walter, and Danny DeVito stole the show as Gregory Solomon.
Seeing Danny DeVito play an 89-year-old Russian-Jewish furniture dealer is something you don't forget. He brought this weird, frantic energy that balanced out the heavy, brooding drama between the brothers.
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The Many Meanings of The Price
The title isn't just about the check Solomon writes at the end. It’s about the cost of staying and the cost of leaving.
- The Literal Price: What is a house full of memories worth in cash? Solomon offers $1,100. To the brothers, who grew up wealthy before the crash, that feels like an insult. To Victor, who is broke, it's a lifeline.
- The Price of Guilt: Walter paid for his success with his nerves. He had a breakdown, his marriage collapsed, and he’s clearly miserable despite the fancy coat.
- The Price of Illusion: Victor’s wife, Esther, is desperate for him to take the money and finally "live." But Victor is tethered to his version of the past. If he admits his father didn't need him, his whole life becomes a mistake. He can't afford that realization.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Ending
Some critics argue the play is too talky or that it doesn't "go anywhere." Honestly, they're missing the point. The play doesn't end with a hug or a reconciliation. It ends with the same laughing record playing on an old phonograph that started the play.
Nothing is fixed. The brothers leave still hating each other's choices. Solomon is left alone with the furniture. It’s messy, it’s unresolved, and it’s deeply human. Miller isn't interested in giving you a happy ending; he wants you to walk out of the theater and call your brother, or at least look at your own life and wonder what "price" you're currently paying for your own comfort.
Actionable Insights for Theater Fans and Students
If you’re planning on reading or seeing The Price Arthur Miller anytime soon, keep these things in mind to get the most out of it:
- Watch the background objects: In a good production, the set design is a character. Look for how the furniture hem in the actors. It should feel claustrophobic.
- Listen to the "Competing Narratives": Pay attention to the moment Walter reveals the secret money. Notice how Victor tries to justify ignoring the signs. It’s a study in confirmation bias.
- Don't dismiss Solomon: It’s easy to see the antique dealer as comic relief. He’s not. He is the only character who has actually "lived" because he accepts that everything changes and nothing lasts.
- Compare it to "All My Sons": If you've read Miller’s other work, look at the father-son dynamic here. In All My Sons, the father's guilt is a public crime. In The Price, the father's "crime" is much more subtle—it's just being a broken, selfish human being.
Whether you're a student analyzing the text or just someone who loves a good family drama, The Price serves as a reminder that we are all, to some extent, haunted by the versions of ourselves we chose not to become.
To truly understand the play, start by looking at your own "attic." Identify one "sacrifice" you’ve made in your life and honestly ask yourself: was it for them, or was it for you? Reading the script with that question in mind changes the entire experience. If you can find the 1971 film version with George C. Scott, watch it for the raw intensity he brings to Victor; it clarifies the character's bitterness better than any textbook ever could.