"The Crucible": Is Good Enough?

Yes, it is true that Arthur Miller's classic play The Crucible was written in response to the McCarthy Hearings, set in colonial Salem during the very similar witch hunt/witch trials.  Even today, the idea that suspicion and accusation can at least ruin lives is still a ripe topic – ask a wrongly accused parent or priest.  But even more basically, the play deals with a simple question: Is it enough to be good?  Ironically, I found myself asking the very same thing about this production, which closes this weekend at Howard Community College.  When it is good, it is very good; when it isn't, well, it's not.    Every aspect of this production has a strange dichotomy of real excellence and real problems: the technical aspects, the direction, and the acting, leaving a disturbingly disquieting feeling when the evening is over.  Given the amount of artistry involved here and the resonance of its themes for today's audiences, is a good Crucible enough?

The black box theatre at HCC is an ideal space for The Crucible.  Its very blackness suggests an eerie infinity, and its seating (arena style) feels like we are sitting observing the proceedings slightly above and removed from them.  Lighting designer Andrew Haag has done a superb job of creating completely separate moods and locals – the shadowy woods and jail in sharp contrast to the bright but austere meeting house, for example.  And the use of light to illuminate characters walking off to execution behind a gauzy curtain of scrim is particularly effective.  It is a shame that this device was not employed to illuminate a singing congregation in act one – what a stunning contrast that could have been!  Similarly, video designer Nate Pesce, whose work is seen on two screens tied tightly yet perilously above the action.  In a brilliant effect at the start of the play, we see a very quiet pastoral scene that is jarringly interrupted with film of the young girls dancing in the woods.  The frenzied, quick moving camera creates a tension and at the same time reflects the frenzy of emotion the girls felt as they frolicked with abandon.  (If you've not seen The Crucible, it is this usually unseen event that is the catalyst for all of the accusations and behavior that follow the girls being caught by the town pastor.)  Elsewhere, though, these projections are much less successful, notably the much smaller screen stage left, which in a slight shadow, is even more difficult to see.  An unintended, I'm sure, by-product of this is also that at times the images steal focus.  Sound designer/composer Nischom Silverman has created some interesting music to punctuate the ends of scenes and scene changes.  It is now almost cliché to provide such music – an odd mix of techo thumping and long chords that sound ominous (dum da dum dum!)  And to that end, Silverman doesn't really stretch the imagination.  Even more bizarre is the use of Gregorian chants as the walk in music.  It is solemn and religious, but inappropriate for the Puritanical setting of Salem.  "Amazing Grace" is also religious, and yet I am sure he never gave that a thought for inclusion.  (A question for dramaturg Bill Stanley: did this religious sect actually sing in church?)

Costume designer Denise Umland has created a set of costumes that certainly resemble colonials, and they quickly identify the different folks – pastors, reverends, judges, townsfolk all easily recognized, which is a definite plus in a cast of over 20, who save for the leads are named maybe twice in nearly three hours.  And yet, one must question the details.  Shiny patent leather shoes with fancy designs and topsiders don't really work in this context, and yet black boots and suede boots certainly do.  Another nice touch is identical, but worn and dirty costumes for actors seen again after months in jail.  And while the cut and length of the garment is dead on, would these people have worn as much color, let alone fancy stripes?  I doubt it, seriously.  (Another question for dramaturg Bill Stanley: Were religious officials really allowed lace and cross-shaped rings on their fingers?) Set designer Wm. M. Yarbrough III has created a terrific space for this production, which all at once feels spacious and claustrophobic, which subtly parallels to ever tightening grip of suspicion.  And the details are brilliant.  For example, the crudely cut toy blocks and slingshot (props by Madison Bahr) on a rustic wooden table shows a fine eye for detail as they represent unseen, but oft spoken of children in the Proctor house.  And the chairs, rigid and hard, look handmade and fully go with the themes.

Director Susan G. Kramer, like her designers, has created moments of thrilling theatricality and other moments of puzzling deficiency.  Chief among her thrills is the use of the video, photography and sound which add a modern layer to the proceedings that make the whole thing perhaps more digestible for a 21^st century audience.  One wonders, then, why this wasn't used more judiciously to better frame the piece – perhaps more video footage to fill in the blanks as the scenes sometimes occur months later.  More action behind the gauzy curtains as mentioned above might have also given more of an edge without being heavy handed; by using this poignant staging technique so sparingly, it seems almost thrown in.  Always mindful of the stage pictures she is creating, Kramer has put together scenes that, if frozen, would still convey meaning just by the juxtaposition of the actors and set pieces.  Too bad that that much attention was given to pacing and line delivery.  There are many times, especially in the less tense scenes, where things grind to a near halt.  And the inclusion of an oft cut scene that starts act two here between John Proctor and Abigail Williams adds nothing but length.  (Much of that might have to do with the decided lack of chemistry between the two actors.)

The acting in this production provides the most obvious disparity between the talented and the talent less.  In the balance, let me say from the start, that with one major exception, none of the less vivid portrayals takes away from the overall sense that this is a very talented cast, who on the whole has done a nice job with a difficult piece.  That said, there are those who stand out for excellence and those who stand out for weakness.  In the roles of the Putnams, Nichole Ward and Steven Ward (are they married in real life?) offer little in the way of chemistry, and score high on the annoying scale – he of the blustery though over the top righteous indignation and she of the anguished harpy.  Sadly, the Putnams have lost all but one of their children at birth, but as portrayed, they garner very little in the way of sympathy.  Their lives suck, we get it already.  Equally frustrating is Jamie Driskill's Ezekiel Cheever, who has this "I-smell-something-bad" look pasted on his face, punctuated with an occasional eye roll and a delivery akin to Keanu Reeves.  Is he like a total visitor from another time?  Reverend Hale, as played by Michael Wood, comes across like a wishy-washy priss and offers the powers that be little in the way of adversarial competition.  No wonder he is so easily dismissed.  And Bruce Leipold's Deputy-Governor Danforth is played nearly at one pitch for his entire performance – in your face and loud – resulting in a character that should be feared becoming so much background noise.  And although his quieter moments, few that there are, are punctuated with Godfather-like gestures, at least they offer much needed variety.  Finally, and this pains me to report, Christopher Sebastian Adams as Reverend Parris is quite simply, awful.  He gets rollicking laughs from the audience, and deservedly so, even though his character is 100% serious.  His face is permanently in a hyperbolic frown that resembles a Greek tragedy mask.  It NEVER changes, and actually looks painful.  Add to that a bizarre combination of nervous sweat (and all of the soap opera caliber gestures with a handkerchief that go with that) and what appear to be tears and you get a real life example of over acting to the extreme.  It also doesn't help Mr. Adams that he delivers every single line in the same overwrought screech.  The combination of the gestures, the face and the delivery are comic for their sheer scope; he reminds me of a hysterical (sad, not funny) Paul Lynde/Sean Hayes (Jack on Will and Grace).  You can't help but laugh, and totally want to cheer the congregation for hating this man. 

The one character, at least as played here, that gets laughs for the right reason, is the wonderful William Stanley III as Giles Corey, the oldest town complainer. He gets laughs for sheer audacity and eccentricity which are completely in line with the character and provide some relief in the otherwise deadly serious play.  Perhaps it is clearest why this laughter is so endearing when we learn of his death from pressing.  This valiant man refused to bend and for his fortitude was crushed to death by heavy stones.  His last words, "more weight" were greeted with a respectful if mournful silence from the audience.  Similarly, Marsha O'Neill Jenkins as the elder Rebecca Nurse offers a wry, steely performance.  Her strength in the face of unimaginable evil is palpable, and grounds the whole show.  Ashanti Cooper's terrified Tituba (inappropriately costumed in bright colors) is nonetheless very endearing; her plaintive cries of innocence go maddeningly unheard.  Lastly, Melissa Ivester as Betty Parris is absolutely mesmerizing as she portrays the afflicted child throughout the first scene.  Her contortions, fevered mumblings and terrified screams are frightening and completely believable.  No wonder her actions have set off this firestorm!

As the Proctors, Jeffrey S. Klima and Santina Maiolatesi, offer the richest, most layered portrayals.  Neither actor resorts to histrionics or overstatement; in fact, their subtlety is endearing and makes them stand out in all the right ways.  Ms. Maiolatesi's Elizabeth is a quiet tower of strength.  Her outward calm is checked only by the bubbling anger at her husband's betrayal that simmers just underneath.  That anger goes hand in hand with an stated sadness.  One can only imagine the scene between she and her husband's mistress, the young Abigail.  And yet, her unwavering support of her husband and family even as she faces certain death as an accused witch really shows the control this fine young actress has.  Mr. Klima walks that fine line between cowed, pleading husband and master of the house, and again between the lover who must firmly give up his mistress and fine upstanding citizen.  His way of portraying Proctor's flaws make him a more accessible everyman, and ultimately a hero, refusing to cave in to wrong over right.

Lastly, Emma K. McDonnell as Abigail Williams offers a summary of all that is good and not so good about this production.  While she is good at the romantic details (brushing aside Proctor's hair, gently rubbing his hand in hers), she offers little in the way of sexual heat that would explain why Proctor was unfaithful.  Miss McDonnell is wholly ineffective in a private woods scene with Mr. Klima.  Similarly, it is very clear that her Abigail is smart, but you never really get that sense of manipulative power she has over her peers.  And yet, there two moments of absolute brilliance in her performance, which by themselves elevate my opinion of her product: in the court scene, when she gets all of the girls into trance like hysteria, you see clearly how she gets away with what she does.  The look in her eye is terrifying and would make even the hardest person fall under her spell.  And in the last moments of that scene, as the lights dim and the girls clutch each other as her biggest nemesis' are hauled off to prison, she looks heavenward with hate in her eyes and a catlike grin on her face.  Silent and chilling.  Like this performance, the moments of brilliance in The Crucible outweigh its shortcomings.

PHOTOS: Courtesy of SAArts, Nate Pesce, photographer.  TOP to BOTTOM: The Crucible Company; Bruce Leipold, Emma K. McDonnell (center) and Company; Emma K. McDonnell, Jeffrey S. Klima and Melissa Ivester (on the bed).  Main page: Ashanti Cooper (center) and Company.

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