The mise en scene of Asolo Rep’s The Crucible takes place in a closed-in, heavy wooden-walled room, that will become a metaphor for each scene to follow. At first, the cast of 17th Century Massachusetts co-religionists, facing forward, file in to fill left and right aisles. Their minister leads his assembly in “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” until a crash and bolt of light scatters all into darkness. Then the play begins in low light with the minister praying over an unresponsive girl in bed in her wooden-walled attic room. Nights before, the minister (David Breitbarth, excellent at showing changes to protect self and position) had seen the bedded girl and others, led by Abigail Williams, in a devilish dance in the woods. Soon the girls will claim to be Affected by witches in cahoots with anyone in the community who might call them out. And Abigail will try her power (although Amanda Fallon Smith is the calmest, least devilish I’ve seen in the part) to get even with Elizabeth Proctor (Laura Rook, upset but hardly showing it) who had her fired after discovering she’d had trysts with husband John Proctor. In the frenzy caused by all the well-cast girls and Danielle Lee Greaves’ effective lying Barbadoan Tituba, Sara Linares stands out as Mary Warren. She agrees with John Proctor (Coburn Goss, always persuasive) to tell the truth about Abigail and crew. That’s scheduled for a “crucible” or trial, presided over by the overbearing judge Deputy-Governor Danforth (Matt DeCaro, strong and completely different in every right way from his Asolo and other area drag roles). By this time, all former neighbors have been turning against each other or unwittingly incriminating themselves or their spouses. Bruce A. Young is particularly pathetic as Giles Corey who only mentioned his wife’s reading habits. It seems impossible that anyone could suspect Peggy Roeder’s Rebecca Nurse of killing her newborn, but Carolyn Ann Hoerdemann and Paul Romero as the Putnams make their claims forcefully. The only relief among the religious hypocrites and ignorant comes from the Reverend John Hale (sincere Gabriel Lawrence). Coburn Goss as John Proctor emerges as the best blend of one who follows both religion and conscience, while his wife tells a fatal untruth because of love. That’s how people go wrong wanting to do right in a closed-in crucible, a fact that Michael Donald Edwards’s solid direction underscores. Although Lee Savage’s set conforms to directorial emphases, it often needs props that are added or moved about or out simply because of a lack of fixed scenery—for the trial, for instance. This activity can break the mood at times. I found the loud, sudden sound breaks a bit showy (and actually scary) in an otherwise excellent sound scheme. Jen Schriever’s lighting did wonders. Costumes, hair styles, and make-up deserve praise. The Crucible still has power, both universal and—in our present situation—in particular.
