crucible n.1 a container in which metals are heated 2 a severe test or trial (Oxford Canadian Dictionary)
Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, a drama set during the Salem witch trials of the late 1600s – and a metaphor for the McCarthy hearings of the 1950s, when the play was written – is a period piece that maintains its relevance today. The damaging “with us or against us” mentality still rings chillingly true.
Alexander Showcase Theatre (AST) is currently running a moving and haunting production on the Alumnae Theatre mainstage, directed by Vincenzo Sestito. Beneath the social turmoil is a story of personal lies, love and redemption, as the lives of the townspeople are turned upside down by the vengeful machinations of a jealous, grasping young woman. Thanks to her, the local clergy cry “witch” – and the full weight of the witch trials comes down upon their heads.
As a container, the crucible remains unchanged during the process of burning the object inside it. While this is also true of the legal arm of this trial, the same cannot be said of the religious arm. Wielding religious and legal power – and fear – the black and white thinking that is dangerous to any who stand in its path leaves those in ultimate power unmoved.
The Crucible features a fine cast, with some familiar faces from previous AST productions. Stand-outs include Patrick and Andrea Brown, the real-life husband and wife playing John and Elizabeth Proctor. Both give strong, layered performances as an estranged couple struggling to move past John’s extramarital sin to face an even more horrific situation when Elizabeth is accused of witchcraft. The two have some lovely domestic and tender moments as the Proctors fight for their marriage and, ultimately, their lives, when protecting each other becomes foremost in their minds. Sharon Zehavi is striking and sensual as Abigail Williams, the original mean girl, troubled and sly – and merciless in her pursuit of vengeance and her former lover, John Proctor. This is a huge departure from Zehavi’s previous AST role as the wide-eyed rookie actress in the radio play version of It’s A Wonderful Life; she is also part of the graphic design team on the production poster for The Crucible.
Seth Mukamal does an excellent job with Reverend Parris, providing a nice arc to the church leader’s decent from pompous, materialistic cleric to the damaged, shell-shocked man we see during the trials. Matt Jensen, as Reverend Hale, gives a nicely rounded performance of the young, intelligent and energetic clergyman turned disillusioned and desperate when his eyes are pried open to the willful blindness of the Puritan-driven judiciary, looking to find witches no matter what the cost. Shouts to Nina Mason, who gives us a Mary Warren that is a silly girl and a follower, but just really wants to fit in and be somebody; to Doug McLauchlan as the simple, litigious Giles Corey, who provides some much needed comic relief; and to Arnie Zweig, who brings a natural officiousness to the imperious Deputy-Governor Danforth.
Kudos to an excellent design team: Angus Barlow (sound), Chris Humphrey (lighting), Deborah Mills (props), Beth Roher (set), Gwyneth Sestito (costumes) and Jo-Anne Wurster (original music composition). The minimal wooden furniture, everyday objects and period costumes set us firmly in time and place, while the back-lit scrim painted with black trees, coupled with lanterns emerging from the darkness, and music and snatches of hymns, add to the eerie transformation of a lovely town set aflame by greed and religion running rampantly astray.
Seeing The Crucible is a grim reminder of the dangers of all or nothing thinking – especially when used as a tool of fear and control by an unchecked political leadership.
Alexander Showcase Theatre’s production of The Crucible runs until November 24.
Department of Corrections: Due to an error in the Production Team section of the program, the set designer was incorrectly identified here in the original post as Marc Davies. Beth Roher was the set designer for this production; this has been corrected.