He used the flashback technique in Salesman, but in his new work he has gone far beyond this. The play's action takes place entirely "in the mind, thought, and memory of Quentin," who is never off stage for an instant. Everything is ruled by what Quentin remembers, as he remembers it. Miller has put the mind's eye on the stage. In the mind, the past and the present are coetaneous. Thus the play does not flow chronologically. Quentin's thoughts dart back and forth with lightning speed. The characters, whether mute or speaking, move into and out of focus instantaneously. The effect is kaleidoscopic. (The full text, by the way, will be printed in, of all places, the February 1 issue of the Saturday Evening Post; but the work will be difficult to assimilate from the printed page alone.)

The style of the divers episodes is semi-realistic. On the whole, props are merely implied. Only a few crucial ones, which stand out in Quentin's memory with special vividness, are actually visible--a toy boat, a bed sheet and Maggie's pill bottle, for instance.

Jo Mielziner has designed an austere, multi-level set with stairs and a few blocks--all painted gray, apparently to suggest the neutral canvas of Quentin's mind upon which polychrome memories are superimposed ("How few the days are that hold the mind in place--like a tapestry hanging on four or five hooks"). Hanging overhead, and lit from time to time, is a panel on which is depicted the barbed-wire tower of a German concentration camp--the panel also resembling a coat-of-arms bearing the tangled skeins of Quentin's thoughts.

The play is magnificently served by the meticulous staging of Elia Kazan and the stunning acting of the new Lincoln Center repertory company. The result is a kind of stylistically consistent ensemble playing such as we have not seen surpassed in this country since the movie On the Waterfront, also directed by Kazan. Right from the opening polyphonic susurrus, no detail is unimportant. Kazan may underline the similarity of the reactions to Quentin by his two vastly different wives through instructing Quentin to push both of them to the floor simultaneously; or he may devise a subtle background counterpoint against the downstage goings-on. He is ever zealous in taking complex matter that could be frightfully confusing and giving it intelligible shape and theatrical effectiveness.

Jason Robards, Jr. has the central role of Quentin, surely one of the longest in all drama. Robards' work in the past has varied from a transcendent Hickey in O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh to an abysmal attempt at Macbeth. But here he is playing at his best--a performance of enormous power and rich detail. At first I felt his diction was too monochromatic. But the wisdom of this became apparent when he burst forth later in the argument over tattling to Congress, or reacted to the news of Lou's suicide, or carried on the climactic battle with Maggie.

Without trying to emulate the breathy voice of La Monroe, Barbara Loden gives an exhibition of shattering virtuosity as the ill-fated Maggie. Salome Jens brings vibrant strength and an authentic accent to the role of Holga, and Mariclare is deeply affecting as Louise. Zohra Lampert is delightful as the starry-eyed young dancer Felice, whose infatuation with Quentin leads her to have her nose bobbed.

Patricia Roe, David Stewart, Ralph Meeker, and Michael Strong are admirable; and all the small parts are consistently excellent. (One appreciates the advantages of having a group of players who know each other well and who have more than twice as long to rehearse as for a Broadway show.)

The only performances that are at all deficient are those of Paul Mann (Quentin's father), who shows a slight tendency to hamminess, and Virginia Kaye, whose portrayal of the Mother does not yet ring true.

David Amram has composed some most helpful snatches of music for woodwind and plucked double-bass; and the lighting and costumes cannot be faulted.

The new ANTA Theatre off Washington Square is just splendid. With a capacity of 1158, it has 21 rows of seats arranged in a semicircular amphitheatre, with the arena and all but the last six rows below ground level. The acoustics are perfect and the sight-lines optimal. The $530,000 building is announced as a temporary structure pending the completion, in a year or two, of the uptown Vivian Beaumont Theatre. It would be a shame if such a fine theatre were not to become a permanently available site for dramatic productions.

The loudest hosannas, however, must go of course to Miller, Kazan, and the Lincoln Center acting company. Together they have enabled the American theatre to take a giant step.