Before I fly off to Korea in the morning I want to make sure that everyone knows how great the production of The Crucible is over at The Custom Made Theatre Co. I have seen it twice now. Here are a few of the reasons why: The star of the evening is Millers script. With tight pacing and urgent delivery, lines that in other productions seem slowed by the weight of their own importance are given the haste of a brush fire; we run to keep up with the play, even as we witness the inevitable damage caused by its flame. Proctor: “A fire, a fire is burning! I hear the boot of Lucifer, I see his filthy face! And it is my face, and yours, Danforth! For them that quail to bring men out of ignorance, as I have quailed, and as you quail now when you know in all your black hearts that this be fraud – God damns our kind especially, and we will burn, we will burn together!” The intimate space is perfectly suited to the secretive, confined nature of the play. It is made even more so by the brooding forest that Stewart Lyle paints to overhang the set from upstage. The names of Salems landowners have been painted onto the map that subtly lines the floor, a reminder that so much of what takes place in the play is due to greed and an incessant insidious land-grab; a reminder of the importance of names. Proctor: “Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!” Other commentators have concentrated on the leads, but Id like to weigh in on the supporting cast. There are ensemble members that captivate. The character of Danforth, so often played as a nearly mustache-twirling villain, is portrayed by Paul Jennings with a concern for justice that tempers his iron resolve. When Danforth suggests that he himself plead with the prisoners until dawn, I believe him. He has condemned characters I care for, but I believe him. I never have before. Reverend Parris (Andrew Calabrese) is the perfect foil to the salt-of-the earth Proctor; a Harvard graduate with a concern for material well-being that he feels is completely justified given his station, he provides the seeds of early paranoia that will later come to such disastrous fruition. Emerging bright-eyed into this paranoia is the energetic and captivating Reverend Hale (Nicholas Trengove). We watch as his faith trembles and crumbles, leaving him a hollowed version of his former self. Trengoves sincerity is heartbreaking to watch. Melissa Clasons Mrs. Putnam captures all the frenetic dialogue of the script in her eyes alone. With a sharp turn of her head we see the mad speed with which accusations fly, and the venom with which they hit their marks. At the same time her desperate vulnerability keeps her from being a villain; we mourn with her for her lost babies. We understand her. Ron Talbots Giles Corey steals our hearts with his irascibility. He is at once bearish and childlike, providing rare flashes of humor and making us want to both clasp him in a bear hug and wag our fingers at his courtroom antics. Until it is too late, and the consequences land on us like so many stones. Rebecca Nurse (played by Carole Swan) is soothing from her first motion. Playing beautifully and believably, Swan is always understated, always patient, always graceful, always listening; the embodiment of the still small voice. Richard Wenzel is especially poignant in his work as Rebeccas soft-hearted husband, Francis Nurse. I believed that his careful caring hands could have crafted the simple pewter candlesticks of Salems meeting house. His was the confused pain of the innocent. Actor doubling is an accepted convention, one all the more necessary in a cast of this size, but so often for audience members it generates a kind of polite embarrassment; we pretend not to notice. Then there are those rare moments when character physicality is handled so well that we truly dont notice. Vince Faso gives such a performance. His Putnam is authoritative and snotty; a weasel of a man who we would have no trouble believing contributed to his wifes fertility problems through sheer force of ire. By contrast his Ezekiel Cheever is earnest, pained, subservient, and projects a goodness buried beneath efficiency. Faso does little to change his physical appearance besides donning a pair of glasses (a la Clark Kent), yet so complete was his transformation that it was not until I saw the production a second time that I realized the two characters are played by one man. Bravo, sir! There will always be conflicting opinions on the interpretation of a classic, and in that light I cant say that the production is perfect. We are asked to believe, for example, that two girls accused of wicked acts would share an amused giggle over it before trying to revive a bewitched child (I suspect, given the context of the scene, that Millers Oh Jesus was conceived with a different tone in mind). Elizabeth (played with consistent depth by Megan Briggs) has been directed to exit the stage crying despite the stoicism and deliberate presence at the window that Miller assigns her (and the stony heart her husband commands). This gives the moment in question less of the conflicted resolve it might have had. The physical violence threatened against Mary Warren never feels quite real (leading to an out of place I forget how strong you are and a very well-acted but somehow also unwarranted fainting spell). Some of Millers words are garbled in a climactic moment perhaps too fraught with added shrieks (in the hubbub, You are the devils man becomes more a matter of powerful gesture than powerful statement). One section of one scene is unnecessarily (or at least inconsistently) segmented by tableaux and area lighting. However, none of this can harm a production made so strong by powerful ensemble contributions, sculpted stage pictures, and speedy delivery of the text. The eerie transitions, designed beautifully by William Campbell and Liz Ryder, further the narrative, remind us of characters we have missed, and make set changes into a haunting dance. However, I wish they had been preceded by brief blackouts where the original curtain falls were included. We were so invested in these characters. We wanted to think on the resonant closing words that had Miller supplied them. We wanted to participate with them, and to communicate through applause; we were denied that opportunity. Stuart Bousels careful and artistic direction is very worthy of this script. Miller wrote, “It is rare for people to be asked the question which puts them squarely in front of themselves”. The Crucible does just that. We try to imagine our own defenses if faced with such accusations. We count commandments on our fingers. The script questions us relentlessly. Patrons are warned in the lobby that the performance will be a full two hours and forty minutes. It feels like half that. The show flies (even if Betty doesnt). In that brief time we see humanity at its worst and best. If you havent seen this classic in some time, and want to remember why it is a classic, then this production is for you. I will be going a third time. I never stand unless I mean it; I stood for them. Beautiful, beautiful work!
Posted on: Sat, 24 May 2014 10:57:44 +0000
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