A spectacular cacophony of variations of masculinity, A View from the Bridge is an electric take on identity anxiety and primal passions.  

First published in 1955, director Holly Race Roughan stages Arthur Miller's play as a claustrophobic pressure cooker.  

Set in 1950s Brooklyn, in the working-class Red Hook, the American-Italian neighbourhood is built on community.  

The tragedy follows Eddie Carbone (Jonathan Slinger) a Brooklyn longshoreman whose inappropriate feelings for his orphaned niece lead to a betrayal of his extended family.  

Alfieri (Nancy Crane) is the audience's trusted narrator, akin to the choir in a Greek tragedy; she sets the scene and establishes the well-worn Brookyln accent. 

Jarring at first, the accent grows on you; it is impressive the cast keeps it up without faltering for over two hours. (I could barely contain my delight as the characters referenced brewing a "cwup of cwawfee".) 

From the get-go there is an uncanny romance between Eddie and Catherine (Rachelle Diedericks). As she teases him, the lines between flirting and childish play are increasingly blurred.  

Diedericks never lets us forget Catherine's youth, skipping on and off the stage, returning in one scene with a match in her mouth like a lollipop.  

Catherine and Eddie's relationship blurs lines between familiarity and family. (Photo: The Other Richard)

Enter Marco (Tommy Sim'aan) and Rodolfo (Luke Newberry): two Sicilian cousins who have illegally emigrated to America to work on the docks. 

Marco quickly becomes the 'good immigrant' in sending money back to Italy to support his wife and children. Whereas Rodolpho embodies a metrosexual man: spending his money on new clothes, records and taking Catherine out and about town.  

Versions of masculinity are stretched and strained as Rodolfo flexes his soft power in singing, cooking and dancing with Catherine.  

At one point Eddie refers to Rodolfo's singing as a "canary in a coal mine"- a screaming indicator of this new definition of manliness as a threat to Eddie's rugged working-class vigour.

Jonathan Slinger plays Eddie authentically, rather than a caricature of working-man rage. (Photo: The Other Richard)

Marco, in a loaded performance of machismo, lifts a chair over his head from the floor by the base of one leg, with a single hand. It is this display of physical mastery and control, compared to Eddie's bull-in-a-China-shop mood swings, which knocks the audience into silence.  

The macho ballet dancer pops up with irrelevance, an obscure vision of elegance next to Eddie's deflated stomps. Although the dancer shows another form of masculinity, muscular athleticism, it is ultimately a bizarre addition which needs to be cut. 

The minimalist set (designed by Moi Tran) all but for the neon lit-up Red Hook sign adds to the almost suffocating atmosphere: you cannot look away from the action. 

What the play lacks in setting makes up for in tension and emotional anguish.  

Tensions grow fierce against the austere backdrop as Beatrice encourages Catherine and Rodolfo's love as Eddie treats them both with disdain. 

Eddie battles his ego and id, his understandings of justice and his primitive desires, and ultimately rationality and erraticism dissolve into one another.  

Miller's play focuses on a family in crises against the backdrop of the changing tides of 1950s America. (Photo: The Other Richard)

Roughan is faithful in Miller's skill in guiding the audience to empathise with Eddie's plight even if we are repulsed by his actions.  

As the action comes to a head, with Eddie getting the Italian cousins in trouble, the ending seems to narrow.  

Symbols of masculine honour and identity become less sophisticated and more overt. Eddie shouts out he "wants his name", his reputation in the close-knit Red Hook community.  

Despite Catherine and Beatrice's cries of love for Eddie, the tragic hero ultimately opts for trying to (re)gain his respect as a man rather than as person. 

Whether it is the pacing of the performance or the play its, the end seems to come too quick. Hurtling towards inevitability, it feels the blood bath is too rushed.  

Tensions rise and heated witticisms abound between the male characters as testosterone races. (Photo: The Other Richard)

The women's sobs add to the play's hysterical focus on different kinds of male identity; whereas Beatrice and Catherine seemed to be typified as the tired housewife and the playful, youthful virgin. 

 Artistic director of the Rose Theatre, Christopher Haydon, discusses in the programme how "outsiders can be an easy scapegoat for so many of society's ills"; here, we see Eddie project his insecurities as a father, a provider, a lover and man onto two immigrants.  

The play has toured Chichester Festival and Bolton Theatre. It is a new co-production with Headlong, Octagon Theatre Bolton and Rose Theatre. 

A View from the Bridge is performing at the Rose Theatre until Saturday 11 November. To find out more or buy your tickets, click here.