The Crucible

Chris O'Rourke
3 hours ago
4 min read

Patrick Ryan, Denis Conway, Andrew McCarthy, Marcus Lamb, Charlene McKenna, Rory Nolan in The Crucible.

Image, SoundOfPhotography

***

Premiering in 1953, Arthur Miller's classic, The Crucible, interrogates events other than those it depicts. Reimagining the Salem Witch Trials, 1692 to 1693, to interrogate the McCarthy era witch hunt for alleged communists in America. Seven decades later it could be seen to interpret another America. Where a misrule of law is used to delude people under the mantle of a higher cause. Intimidating protesters to comply or die as it seeks out undesirables. Society ordered to reject the evidence before their eyes for lies passed off as truth. Many subscribing to the new abnormal out of fear, faith or advantage. Yet Gaiety Productions’ current incarnation strives for political neutrality. Opting for historic reenactment not restricted by modern relevance. Director Andrew Flynn grounding action in a group of frightened young girls accusing their neighbours of witchcraft, a crime punishable by death, to escape punishment for ritually dancing in the woods one night. A production undermined by a cluster-bomb of theatrical styles. Restoration, Greek tragedy, melodrama and naturalism colliding in an untidy mess of genres. Risking The Crucible becoming another kind of cluster as it cranks up the emotional intensity.

Andrew McCarthy, Brid NiNeachtain, Mazzy Ronaldson Niamh McCormack, Anna Nugent in The Crucible. Image uncredited.

Like sitting next to a mini man-spreader, there’s a sense of the undersized trying to present as oversized. Maree Kearns’ infrequently glimpsed forest supernaturally dark and deep. Lost to a claustrophobic barn design, illuminated by Ciaran Bagnall’s slats of shadowed light, that buries events beneath a dirt heavy oppressiveness. Sinead Cuthbert’s period costumes reinforcing an old world earthiness. Meanwhile, Carl Kennedy’s sweeping intermezzos soar in search of a movie, screaming ‘look at me’. Should they ever find their movie they might very well make for a terrific soundtrack. For The Crucible, they appear to be trying to escape it rather than score it.

The Crucible. Image, SoundOfPhotography

As accusations fly and the court case begins, an invested cast rarely appear to be reading from the same page, never mind the same play. Marcus Lamb’s Reverend Parris declaiming as if in a Victorian melodrama. Rory Nolan’s complex Reverend Hale strutting and fretting like a Shakespearean lead. Adam Rothenberg’s tormented John Proctor growling like a Greek myth. Even Denis Conway’s delightful Giles Corey appears to have rambled in from a Yorkshire pantomime where he played comic relief to brilliant effect. All creating a babel of uneven accents against which Niamh McCormack’s Abigail Williams, and Charlene McKenna’s Elizabeth Proctor deliver character studies steeped in naturalism. Reminding you that a whisper can be more powerful than a scream. A touch move mountains a roar can only bluster at. That less is often so much more, especially when more delivers so much less. Lilymai Clancy, Gina Costigan, Lara McDonnell, Bríd Ní Neachtain, Anna Nugent, Tierra Porter and Mazzy Ronaldson doing likewise, even when screaming. Confirming that its women, and its emotional subtly, have always been key to unlocking The Crucible’s secrets.

The Crucible. Image, SoundOfPhotography

A point made abundantly clear by a superb Andrew McCarthy, whose inquisitorial Deputy Governor Danforth is the second best thing about this production. If vocal projection is often subdued, McCarthy’s calm, level delivery punctures a tendency towards relentless histrionics. McCarthy’s attention to gestural detail revealing Danforth’s impregnable egotism and Machiavellian malice, informing a posturing, Napoleonic authority without endlessly raising his voice. Even so, it’s a tightrope walk. Danforth at risk of toppling into moustache twirling villain rather than protector of the people who genuinely believes he’s doing God’s will. McCarthy’s compelling performance tilting to the right side of melodrama.

Mazzy Ronaldson, Niamh McCormack, Lilymai Clancy, Lara McDonnell in The Crucible. Image uncredited

As does Niamh McCormack’s Abigail; McCormack the best thing about this troubled production. Poorly used, McCormack digs deep as a wld woman scorned, and an antagonist to be hated, feared and pitied. Like McCarthy, she appears to have rambled into the wrong play, but never gets embroiled in emotional upstaging. Even if characters do, actors should know better. But it comes at a cost in the first act. McCormack retreating, or being positioned to the rear like being put in a time out, making it impossible to tell whether Abigail is scheming, plotting, or reading the room. The loss revealed in the penultimate scene as Proctor and Abigail await Elizabeth Proctor’s defining testimony. Rothenberg’s Proctor an unmoved statue. McCormack’s Abigail story made flesh. Eyes anticipating every syllable as hands clutch the folds of her skirt. Rapidly processing a torrent of emotions with which she carries us along.

Andrew McCarthy, Rory Nolan, Lara McDonell, Mazzy Ronaldson, Niamh McCormack, Lilimai Cancy in The Crucible. Image uncredited.

Every production is political. Trying not to be political is itself political. There’s something admirable in Flynn’s attempt to just tell the story, despite its datedness. Especially as Miller never intended The Crucible to just tell a story. The Crucible enduring because its characters live and breathe beyond mere political testimony. When Flynn finds those sweet spots, and there are many, The Crucible articulates a flawed humanity struggling within political and spiritual polemics. With McCarthy and McCormack leading the way with two excellent performances.