Arthur Miller was born in Harlem, to a Polish father who’s business went bust during The Depression. Perhaps because of this change in fortune, Miller’s values were left-leaning, and in 1952 he was called before the House on Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), where he refused to name names. He was very upset that his colleague and friend Elia Kazan listed eight actors and writers who had been members of the Communist party, all of whom became part of the infamous Hollywood Blacklist. Miller immediately started working on The Crucible, where he wanted to show the similarities between HUAC and the Salem Witch trials of 1692-93. Both cases included hysteria and accusations, many unsubstantiated by evidence, which ruined people’s lives.
Though based on the actual incidents, this play can best be termed historical fiction, because Miller shapes the characters and situations to suit what has become a classic in American Drama. It opens with a suspicious illness of Reverend Parris’s daughter, who we find has been dancing with other girls (were some naked?) and their Caribbean slave in the forest. Witchcraft is suspected. The slave woman realizes she faces harsh consequences and starts to manufacture lies about being a puppet of the devil. The occult expert Reverend Hale is summoned and accusations fly like bats in the night, many of them originating from the teenage Abigail Williams. Later we find out Abigail had an affair with the married and noble townsman John Proctor. Abigail accuses John’s wife, Goody, in hopes of the wife’s demise. In fact, one of her forest-dancing friends bares the truth near the beginning: “You drank a charm to kill John Proctor’s wife!” Abby slaps her face to gain authority, and we witness the domination she achieves throughout the play. Fear is flamed by others, including Ann Putnam, who has buried all but one of her children and cannot accept any rational explanation: “They were murdered!” she explains, by the same spirits that have struck dumb both her daughter and the Parris girl.
Things escalate, as 12 locals are hanged, many more arrested, and John Proctor himself faces the gallows. Goody is temporarily reprieved, due to her pregnancy, but almost no one seems safe. Abby basks in her newfound Queen Bee power as people clamor to be by her side. But she still wants John, who has his own struggles. If only John will admit to witchcraft to the authorities, he can avoid a hanging. The honest John agonizes, but finally is ready to lie as he says to his wife, “My honesty is broke, Elizabeth. I am no good man. Nothing’s spoiled by giving them this lie that were not rotten long before.” But when they require him to name names, he balks and ends up being hanged rather than implicate anyone else in the fraudulent accusations.
The play is the 17th Century version of Mean Girls, where teenage bullies—all girls—gain dominance by spreading rumors and watching other people fall. In the case of The Crucible, the consequences are dire, indeed.
Brooklyn’s Gallery Players tackled a big challenge with The Crucible, not only because it is so well-known (with the attendant high expectations), but also because of the number of characters (19) in the play. Act I starts out with mostly stiff performances and we are left to wonder just how long the night will be. Act II is even slower. But thankfully the play loosens up after the intermission. Things move faster once the action moves to the courtroom, but just as in the first two acts, the result is uneven. Director Heather Siobhan Curran took on a daunting project, and did a wonderful job in some parts, but others were lacking. There are thankfully times when the writing and acting come together in smooth harmony and the audience is transported to that scary time over 300 years ago. The best acting came from Emily Hagburg, who convincingly shows the anguished and conflicted soul of Mary Warren, who tries, unsuccessfully, to tell the truth at the trial; from Lisa Darden, as the slave woman Tituba, whose energy and fluidity was wonderful to watch; from Gil Brady as John Proctor, Rhyn McLemore as Goody Proctor, and Lindsay Mack as Abigail Williams, the gang leader of the accusors.
Lilia Trenkova’s bare set, with its roughly-hewed wood furniture, perfectly captured the time and the bleak emotional landscape. Similarly, Megan Q. Dudley’s costumes were spot-on authentic, except for the modern Mary-Jane shoes of the female characters. But these were hardly noticed against the homespun dresses, aprons and caps of the women and the plain jackets and knicker-pants of the men. David Roy’s lighting added to the sparse set and clothing.
Miller had successful collaborations with Elia Kazan, who directed his well-received All My Sons and Death of a Salesman (both 1947). So it was no doubt painful to see his friend become what he saw as a traitor. And then Miller himself was blacklisted for a while by Hollywood. Who knows? Maybe this resulted in him writing more plays (over 30) than movies (only four). We do know Miller’s anguish gave us The Crucible, for which we can all be eternally grateful, and for which ambitious theater companies, such as the Gallery Players, continue to put on respected productions. Bravo!
The Crucible. Fear, hysteria, accusations and hangings during the 17th century Salem witch trials—an allegory to the 1950’s Red Scare.
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