When talk of witches permeate a 1690s Colonial settlement during the Salem Witch Trials, lies begin to beget themselves and the romantic delusions of young Abigail Williams whips the town into a frenzy in Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, a thinly veiled parable to the Hollywood Blacklist of the 1950s. As John and Elizabeth Proctor deal with his recent transgressions, the wisdom of the minority goes unnoticed in the wake of this village that has gone “daft.” Familial livelihoods are compromised and a community destroyed. Abby is like an airborne disease. “You taught me goodness, therefore you are good,” she tells her former lover. Her self-serving perceptions dictate the law of the land, yet, ironically, it’s the good who end up falling.
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| Bill Voorhees, Jessicah Neufeld |
Good John Proctor is also prideful, a personal flaw that leaves him to deal with a mess much larger than before that has spiraled out of control. Pretense and distraction lead to a miscarriage of justice, while there are those who exploit the chaos for their own benefit. Proctor is held prey to the law—the final arbiter of human justice—left unaccountable to those it is supposed to serve. Unchecked, fattened religion, regardless of its professed obedience to God, and mob mentality will corrupt justice and suck a part of the life out of a community. Keeping up with appearances robs the virtues of work ethic and good deeds. Ultimately, man’s relationship with God is best kept separate from the church. Yet, the judgments we leave to God find a way of spilling from the mouths of men. Their collective power robs us of our individuality. It’s only when matters hit us personally that we modify our unexamined, firmly-held beliefs. Empathy makes us human. Yet, peers of Abigail like Mary Warren are bullied into selling out on the path to self-preservation. The play doesn’t exactly judge the choices of those facing the Blacklist, but it applauds those who stood up to the machine to do what was right and true. John Proctor is their patron saint. “I speak of my own sins, I cannot judge another, I have no tongue for it … I have given you my soul, but leave me my name!”
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| Doug Burch |
My more skeptical side suggests that something like the Blacklist could never happen again, so removed from our more evolved times. Yet, though technology and society have leaped forward in the last sixty years, it’s still merely a blip in the history of civilization. And, do we need any more recent example of group-think than the concentrated vengeance the US harbored after 9/11 which oiled the wheels to wage a war that a good chunk of this world has deemed illegal since? Saner and cooler minds did not prevail. While it’s a stretch, The Crucible’s lessons aren’t actually ones that have been learned by modern Western society.
Arthur Miller’s tale is full of broad, dramatic strokes; it was made for the stage in a way film has yet to do it justice. The writing is clever, even when overt. The Proctor’s inform their religious authority that “Between the two of us, we do know them all,” when tested on the Ten Commandments and John Proctor just so happens to forget the very rule he has broken (or doesn't have the strength to speak). Yet, just between the two of them, Elizabeth doles out her justice that he observes “would freeze beer.” Director Bill Voorhees has assembled an obscenely talented group of cast and crew to bring this allegory and passion project to life, which includes an absolutely chilling courtroom possession scene in Act II.
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| Trevor H. Olsen, Bernadette Speakes, Anthony Backman, Doug Burch |
Onstage as John Proctor, in his long mane and leather vest, the huntsman-like Voorhees leads the exceptional group of actors, with every last role cast superbly. Lauren Dobbins Webb adds an empathetic steely veneer to her Elizabeth. Jessicah Neufeld’s Abigail is an unsuspecting sexual tornado who will chew up and spit out anyone she crosses, waging “a whore’s vengeance” with the power of slander and her Hell hath no fury like her woman-child scorned. As the torn Mary Warren, Rebecca Sigl (whose voice has a Sara Rue quality to it) skillfully negotiates the realm between comedy and drama. One of the most expressive and distressed characters in the play, Sigl offhandedly can elicit a laugh with referencing her relationship status, “however single,” only to cower later before the court in full desperation. Nine-year-old Grace Kaufman as Betty Parris has an unmatched set of lungs; that girl can scream bloody murder before any crime has taken place. Doug Burch invests a nuanced amount of heart into his performance as Giles Corey. Enough can’t be said about John Money as Ezekiel Cheever who maintains a Wallace Shawn quality throughout. Cheever isn’t the best suited for his job, as he struggles with his words, dwarfed by two legal attendants often flanking him. Money's effortless humor is simultaneously anachronistic and welcome, as the comic relief of the production is appropriately funneled mostly through his character. This cast is just supreme.
Foreboding orchestral music provides a dramatic, driving pre-show tone. The lighting effect is near dusk at first, with the late setting sun faintly fighting its way through the windows with all its orange glory. The shapes projected on the wood floor reflect stained panels (the work of scenic painter Marine Walton) assembled vertically to create rolling pillars, monolithic in stature, with slits for windows. Mild adjustments of their mobility serve as the production's backdrop. Joel Daavid’s set design immersed in the heavily black curtained walls of the Lillian coupled with Matt Richter’s lighting is stunning. Naturally, stools, benches, a table and small bed round out the simple but versatile set. Lauren Thomas’ costumes are impeccable, with Thomas Putnams' (Brad Light) full-length jacket, ruffled sleeves and collar a marvel for the eyes, among other outfits. The detailed overemphasized stitching is exquisite.
At over three hours in length, the production is quite the time-investment. It includes the optional scene involving Proctor and Abigail meeting in the woods, which is in keeping with the Dollar Bill Productions' concentration on more primal themes. And, while The Crucible is heavy-handed for some, this particular production is rich and riveting. With After the Fall from a few months previously, The Lillian Theater is 2/2 with Arthur Miller adaptations so far in 2012. Produced by Sean Thomas, performances run through July 14thand plays Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays (at 8pm) and Sundays (at 7 pm). You can find out more information by clicking on the Plays411 icon to the left.[Photos care of Sean Thomas]
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