This modern classic isn’t produced that often, probably because it requires the resources only a big theatre company can marshal, though it was seen in London three times in relatively quick succession between 2010 and 2016, at The Open Air Theatre, The Old Vic & The RSC, all great productions. Though it’s about the 1692 Salem witch trials, Arthur Miller wrote it as an allegory for the McCarthy Un-American Activities Committee, which he defied shortly before, resulting in a conviction for contempt of court. Every time it’s staged it resonates, no more than at the present time.
The trials took place after the last witch was executed in Britain, the country where these puritans came from. They lived in a theocracy where the church was clearly in control. The spark was lit by children, seemingly out for revenge, naming almost all the townswomen as witches. The girls are seen in the forest, in trances, looking as if they are possessed. It escalates rapidly and hysteria develops extraordinary quickly. To escape execution, the accused had to lie, something these people were led to believe would turn god against them. So if they told the truth, they would die, if they told a lie they would be punished by their god.
The reason the play is timeless is that it reflects human nature. Though the consequences are of course different, people have always lived in a world of witch-hunts, these days by social and printed media, which can produce as much hysteria just as quickly. It seems to be human destiny to live with conflict, in politics, religion or other belief, in neighbourhoods, communities, sport. In recent years it’s manifested itself in attitudes to the pandemic, right vs left, brexit vs remain, monarchists vs republicans, woke or anti-woke, as well as more personal attacks on J K Rowling and most recently This Morning presenters. This is a 70-year-old play about an incident 330 years ago that’s bang up to date.
The most striking thing about Lindsay Turner’s brilliant production is the extraordinary contribution Tim Lutkin’s lighting makes, illuminating individuals like I’ve never seen before. The soundscape too adds much atmosphere, and there are curtains of water on three sides before the start and between acts, which look stunning even if I still struggle for their meaning. I was so involved I wanted to audibly denounce the unfairness and tell John Proctor what he should do.
Though it’s invidious to single out actors in such a fine company, I have to say Brendan Cowell’s John Proctor was as fine a characterisation of this role as I’ve ever seen. Erin Doherty inhabits the role of Abigail, a chilling portrayal, and there are passionate performances from Fisayo Akinade as Rev. Hale and Karl Johnson as old-timer Giles Corey. The girls send shivers up your spine.
This is what the National is for. Don’t miss it.
Gareth's Culture and Travel Blog 