DEATH OF A PURITAN

THE CRUCIBLE
Directed by Tlaloc Rivas; written by Arthur Miller
With: Dennis A. Price; Farhiya Mahamud; Liz Finnegan; Louise Contino; James Noel Hoban; Charlotte Herbold; Nathan Raleigh; Meagan Hawkes; Bill Kuykendall; Tom Crutcher
At Penobscot Theatre in Bangor, Maine
From November 3 to November 14, 2004

Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves

Arthur Miller is one of America’s most famous playwrights, and The Crucible (along with Death of a Salesman) is one of his most famous plays. Set in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1692, The Crucible is ostensibly about the Salem witch trials. However, as you may recall, Miller had more than Salem on his mind when he wrote the play in the early 1950s. During that time, America was in the grip of another hysteria, but rather than witches, communists were the ones who were feared and prosecuted. In Penobscot Theatre’s program guide, Miller is quoted as stating, “I was motivated by the paralysis that had set in among many citizens who, despite their discomfort with the inquisitors’ violations of civil rights, were fearful…of being identified as [anti-American] if they should protest too strongly.”

This sort of panic apparently ripples through the ages and never really goes away. After 9/11 and the war in Iraq, Americans have had yet another taste of hysteria, paralysis, and accusations of “being identified as anti-American if they should protest too strongly.” This human tendency is something all citizens should be aware of and on guard against, and because of this, The Crucible seems as relevant and as timely as ever, even though it was written fifty years ago.

However, perhaps the most astonishing thing about The Crucible is how rooted it feels in Salem of the late 1600s. While there are intimations of the 1950s (more on this later), viewers really do feel as though they are watching a Puritan drama unfold. The language, the concerns, the quandaries, and the morality strike just the right historical note, familiar to most of us whose families have been here for many generations, for regardless of our ethnic heritage, this Puritan sensibility is what has shaped our country and has given us its moral tone.

When the play opens, Reverend Samuel Parris (Dennis Price) is brooding over his young daughter, who is afflicted with a mysterious illness. Reverend Parris has caught glimpses of things he wished he hadn’t seen, of young girls dancing in the woods in the night, and he knows his daughter was one of the girls. His niece, Abigail Williams (Liz Finnegan), was not only there but was also the ringleader, and, along with the slave Tituba (Farhiya Mahamud), they were doing things that were not “natural” (drinking chicken blood and trying to set a curse). It’s not long before the accusation of witchcraft hangs in the air, at first resisted but then embraced.

We soon learn that Reverend Parris is as much concerned with his own reputation as he is with the health of his daughter. A vain, luxury-loving man, he knows some of the people in town have taken a dislike to him, and Reverend Parris most assuredly does not want witchcraft to be associated with either him or his family. Yet, the wheels of fate are turning even as Reverend Parris tries to push witchcraft away. In desperation, he has sent for Reverend John Hale (Nathan Raleigh), an expert, to help him with this matter, and Reverend Hale comes to Salem convinced “It is the best the devil wants.”

Abigail has her own secrets and wishes to dissociate herself from witchcraft. When it becomes obvious that Reverend Hale is pushing the community toward witchcraft as an explanation for its many ills, she does what cornered people often do. That is, lie, threaten, and make counteraccusations, and Abigail’s beauty and charisma draw people to her side. When she begins to charge certain people in Salem of being witches, the unaccused are more than willing to go along with her. It is not long before Abigail has a posse of young girls who band together with her to purge the town of witches, and the jails are packed with the falsely accused, who must either confess to being in league with the devil or be hanged.

John Proctor (James Noel Hoban), one of the town’s upstanding citizens, has not only been drawn to Abigail’s side but also to her bed when she worked for him and his plain wife Elizabeth (Meagan Hawkes). Abigail longs to be with John (the curse in the woods was to get rid of Elizabeth), but John has seen the error of his ways and wants nothing to do with Abigail. In addition, he has great scorn for Reverend Parris and his frivolous ways. John might be a fallen man, but he still believes in the plain life, the ideals of the Puritans, and the importance of faith.

At this point, the play begins to ripple out in fascinating ways. The Salem witch-hunt becomes a sort of frame for the central drama of an uneasy and hostile triangle—John, Elizabeth, and Abigail. In many ways, the conflict verges on being stereotypical, the whore Abigail against the virtuous Elizabeth, but Miller throws a little 1950s spice in to shake things up. Late in the play, Elizabeth sorrowfully admits that she has been a “cold” wife who kept a cold house. In other words, duty without passion or warmth, the bane of the 1950s housewife, which can drive a man into other arms. However, Miller does not let John off the hook, and it’s not long before we see that John is a man who is deeply disappointed in himself. He has let his family down, and he knows it. Worse yet, by committing adultery, he has gone against his beliefs, and for this he cannot forgive himself.

Abigail is the least developed and least sympathetic of the trio, a vengeful, willful woman, a Puritan Becky Sharp, who will stop at nothing, even murder, to get what she wants. (Not surprisingly, Abigail accuses Elizabeth of being a witch.) Still, I did feel a certain amount of sympathy for this young woman who was trapped in the witchcraft hysteria just as surely as any of the other characters were. Nobody’s fool, Abigail could see right away that it would either be her neck or somebody else’s, and, in the interest of self-preservation, she chose to have it be somebody else’s.

Swirling around this trio is a host of other characters. Among them are the afore-mentioned Reverend Hale, who comes to doubt the veracity of his mission; the rigid, controlling Deputy Governor Danforth (Tom Crutcher), who continues to hang and convict, even though he, too, has his doubts; wise and goodhearted Rebecca Nurse (Charlotte Herbold), who somehow gets caught in the witchcraft trap; and her husband Francis Nurse (Bill Kuykendall), a curmudgeon who nevertheless will not name names (another 1950s touch).

With a combination of professional and nonprofessional actors, Penobscot Theatre did a solid job with this intense play. As with the previous play (Dracula), it was difficult to hear some of the lines, especially with many of the women. I’m beginning to suspect that this is a combination of bad acoustics and actors not adequately projecting their voices, and it’s something this theater needs to work on. Nevertheless, I was riveted by the drama and the structure of The Crucible, and if I lived closer, I would love to see it again.

Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary defines crucible as “a severe test,” and, indeed, John Proctor is tested in a most severe way. In the end, he must decide whether to save his life or save his soul, with both earthly and heavenly redemption being at stake. When John Proctor finally does make his choice, it is both moving and believable.  

 

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