The Crucible
Gaiety Theatre, Dublin
★★★☆☆
Arthur Miller’s The Crucible is a play about the perils of moral panic, groupthink and superstition. But, as its title suggests, it is also about the civilisational importance of fire in a literal sense. The characters’ lives are dominated by wood: buying it, growing it, fighting over it. Arson is a recurring theme. The forest is also where the scandal leading to the Salem witch trials of 1692-3 begins.
Such earthy, material concerns come to the fore in Andrew Flynn’s staging at the Gaiety Theatre. Maree Kearns’s set is framed on all sides by windowless clapperboard, creating a gloomy, coffin-like atmosphere. The spartan furniture and dull-hued, functional costumes (designed by Sinéad Cuthbert) point to a community struggling to keep up appearances of drab gentility.
Mass hysteria here comes to seem like an outlet for frustration with the primitive, unrewarding grind of everyday life in colonial Massachusetts.
Of course, far worse beckons than mere drudgery for those who infringe the town’s puritanical mores. That terror of life-destroying punishment is vividly conveyed by Niamh McCormack’s Abigail in the opening act. Having been caught dancing naked in the woods by Reverend Parris, her uncle, she opts to deflect suspicions of witchcraft by launching the same accusation in all directions.
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In a performance rich in high-strung intensity, McCormack manages to arouse at least some sympathy for a villain faced with a grim choice between doom and dishonour. She also combines well with Marcus Lamb, whose understated portrayal of Parris brings out the cleric’s ulcerous self-importance and greed.
As Reverend John Hale, the witchcraft expert summoned to Salem, Rory Nolan deftly negotiates the shift from officious fanaticism to horrified repentance as the bodies pile up on the scaffold.
Among the 21-strong cast, there are also standout performances from Charlene McKenna as Elizabeth Proctor and Lara McDonnell as her servant girl, Mary Warren. By turns defiant and gripped by poignant desperation, both display impressive emotional range as they fall victim to the relentless manipulations of Deputy Governor Danforth, the chief judge. Andrew McCarthy does a fine job of exploiting the tension between his wilful credulity in the face of nonsense and the dry legalese of his dialogue.
In Adam Rothenberg’s gravel-voiced performance, the play’s hero, John Proctor, becomes a paragon of gruff all-American integrity reminiscent of Charlton Heston. He remains a commanding presence for much of the circa three-hour running time (with an interval). But there are both darker and lighter shades within the character that get blotted out by Rothenberg’s uniformity of tone.
A more general problem is that Flynn’s staging tends to be very static. A courtroom drama inevitably involves a lot of standing around and talking. But the theme of witchcraft should lend itself to a more kinetic playing style in places.
That weakness is paralleled by a lack of conceptual ambition. In the era of MeToo and cancel culture, the questions raised by The Crucible have acquired new, more complex textures. This adequate but conventional period production leaves such contemporary echoes unexplored.
The Crucible is at the Gaiety Theatre, Dublin, until Saturday, March 21st
