★★★✰✰
There is much to enjoy about Lyndsey Turner’s production of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, which has recently transferred to the West End: strong central performances, a beautifully designed set and a strong engagement with the central themes of mob mentality and corruption. However, in foregrounding the experiences of the accusers, Turner’s production often seems at odds with Miller’s intention- to its detriment.
Somewhat loosely dramatising the events of the Salem witch trials, Miller’s play follows those caught up in its horror primarily John Proctor (Brian Gleeson), a local farmer and target of Abigail Williams (Milly Alcocks) desire and, later, ire. Famously an allegory for McCarthyism, Miller emphasises the dynamics of accusation and the experiences of the accused. Not so Turner’s interpretation, which from the slightly patronising and leaden opening narration to their role as chorus brings forward the accusing women of the trials. Turner seems to be sculpting a different play—one analysing the motivations of these women in a way divorced from Miller’s intentions. Sometimes this is highly effective—their ghostly singing, and appearances in the background of scenes, adding ghoulish flashes of witchcraft which add an eerie undertone to the whole production. But mostly it feels out-of-step with the playwright, creating a show of two contrasting halves.
Indeed it is the older cast who thrive across the production. Milly Alcock’s Abigail Williams is underpowered and a tad one-note, although she excels in the movement sequences when the girls are “possessed”. Her chemistry with Proctor is lacking, but Gleeson is convincing as the harried man aiming for truth. Karl Johnson’s Giles Corey nearly steals the show with his comic timing, and the second act nearly entirely belongs to Matthew Marsh’s imperious, demanding, gut-clenchingly convinced Deputy-Governor Danforth: a striding and overwhelming performance. Despite Turner’s intentions, the play ultimately belongs to the older male characters, as these are who Miller has developed in his text.
Turner makes many interesting interventions, pulling a well-known play into interesting, spooky and arresting new angles, from her flashes of the macabre to her increasingly dark, shadowy set: all lending an air of unreality which highlight the horrible consequences of the girls’ actions. It’s just a shame that these choices pull so noticeably against Miller’s text.
Words by Issy Flower
Support The Indiependent
We’re trying to raise £200 a month to help cover our operational costs. This includes our ‘Writer of the Month’ awards, where we recognise the amazing work produced by our contributor team. If you’ve enjoyed reading our site, we’d really appreciate it if you could donate to The Indiependent. Whether you can give £1 or £10, you’d be making a huge difference to our small team.