The Crucible (1996)

While Arthur Miller's play Death of a Salesman received instant acclaim, The Crucible (1952) initially garnered mixed reviews. Perhaps its matching the McCarthy Red Scare (which targeted Miller himself) with the Salem Witch Trials was too on the nose, though an abstract production may also be to blame. The play has aged very well, however, its complexity and sharp characterization compelling even without HUAC parallels.

Raymond Rouleau and Jean-Paul Sartre produced a hard-to-find French film of The Crucible in 1957. In 1996, Miller adapted his own story for the screen, with Nicholas Hytner (The Madness of King George) directing. Slow-moving at times, The Crucible nonetheless retains Miller's passionate drama, buoyed by a peerless cast.

1692, Salem, Massachusetts. Reverend Parris (Bruce Davison) observes a gaggle of girls taking part in a ceremony with slave Tituba (Charlayne Woodard). Parris grows convinced the girls have been bewitched, and headstrong Abigail Williams (Winona Ryder) seizes on this concern. The girls accuse a variety of townspeople of witchcraft, with the frightened villagers rallying to their cause. Abigail has a particular grievance against John Proctor (Daniel Day-Lewis): she'd been fired as Proctor's servant after the two eloped. Abigail accuses Proctor's wife (Joan Allen) of witchery, convincing Proctor to stand against the hysteria. But the lead prosecutor, Judge Danforth (Paul Scofield), remains unconvinced, and the girls turn their wrath on Proctor himself.

The Crucible provides a compelling picture of political and religious hysteria. The girls' shame and guilt concocts a crazy story, and the vengeful Abigail easily keeps them in line. Clergymen initially embrace the uprorar, only belatedly realizing their error. Opportunists like the boorish Thomas Putnam (Jeffrey Jones) use it to settle old scores and easy targets (Tituba, spinsters and widows) fall victim. Just questioning witchcraft marks one as a suspect: how can you disprove someone's afflicted by Satan? This nuanced depiction of a community gone mad is far more credible than Inherit the Wind, with its smug depicton of righteous liberals smiting bigoted hayseeds.

Miller depicts authority as giving hysteria an official stamp. Danforth isn't a raving fanatic but an intelligent man convinced he cannot possibly be wrong. Normal laws of evidence don't apply to witchcraft, and Danforth takes the girls' testimony on faith. When one girl threatens to expose Abigail, it only takes another performance to steel Danforth's resolve. On the other hand, one scene suggests Danforth harbors private doubts but soldiers on to save face. Things subside but the State goes about its business, executing those who won't surrender their integrity.

It's here where the McCarthy parallels are most obvious, and where The Crucible becomes didactic. Miller convincingly shows Proctor as a levelheaded man, whose religious ambivalence and connection with Abigail make him an easy target. But later scenes strain credulity to build him as a martyr. If Proctor's willing to confess to devil-worship *in writing*, what's with his about-face? Does he somehow think his confession could remain private? Why concede so much when his tormentors have no interest in half-measures? This feels fairly stilted, with Proctor's over-emphatic monologue not helping. Fortunately, the scene's dramatic pathos nearly overwhelms such considerations.

Hytner's direction suits the material. He opens up the play considerably, with flawless period detail and Andrew Dunn providing gloomy photography of the Massachusetts wilderness. The story moves slowly at first but picks up appropriately as the drama and accusations escalate. Miller's cerebral dialogue and characterizations work wonders, especially conveyed by a sterling cast.

Daniel Day-Lewis conveys Proctor's predicament with slow-burning anguish and intensity. Winona Ryder seems like stunt casting but her fiery turn assuages any doubts. Joan Allen's (Nixon) quiet turn stands out wonderfully amongst her emotive co-stars. Bruce Davison (Ulzana's Raid) and Rob Campbell (Unforgiven) play confused priests, while Jeffrey Jones (Amadeus) makes a hateful town bully.

Paul Scofield deserves special praise. Casting Sir Thomas More as a ruthless witch hunter is wickedly inspired, and Scofield relishes the task. Scofield portrays Danforth with immaculate inflection ("You are... a *brainless* man!") and chilling mannerisms: no actor's ever made the act of eye-shifting more unsettling. This was Scofield's last major role, an incredible sendoff for this legendary actor.

The Crucible stands as a fine film. A bit stagy in spots, it's still an effective drama and a worthy adaptation of a classic play.

PS: Stayed tuned for a special post tomorrow.