Theatre
THEATRE THE CRUCIBLE
Written by Arthur Miller. Directed by Jessica Anne Nelson. A UBC Department of Theatre and Film production. At the Frederic Wood Theatre on Thursday, March 15. Continues until March 31
If this were the Salem setting 2
of The Crucible, director Jessica Anne Nelson would definitely be accused of witchcraft. How else to explain her ability to reinterpret and revitalize playwright Arthur Miller’s classic 1953 allegory about Mccarthyism as a mesmerizing meditation on inequality, gender, misogyny, and hypocrisy, and essentially turn it into a compelling dark comedy?
Loosely based on the Salem witch trials of 1692-93, The Crucible opens after Abigail Williams (Heidi Damayo) and her group of teenage girlfriends are caught dancing in the woods at night. Two of the girls have mysteriously taken ill and rumours of witchcraft grip the puritanical town. Abigail insists she’s innocent, but after she’s rejected by her former lover (and employer), John Proctor (Aidan Wright), a married, much older father of three, and the formidable Reverend Hale (Jed Weiss) begins to challenge her account of what really happened in the woods, she changes tactics. Abigail accuses Tituba (Sophia Paskalidis), a Barbadian slave, of forcing her to drink blood. Tituba breaks down and says the devil is bewitching her. Abigail begins writhing and contorting her body, apparently “possessed”. Within days, all she and her friends need to do is point their fingers at somebody and that person is put on trial for witchcraft.
Eventually, Abigail accuses Elizabeth Proctor (Shona Struthers) of witchcraft. Elizabeth is John’s wife, and she fired Abigail months earlier for being a “harlot”. When Mary Warren (Olivia Lang) finally cracks and admits that she, Abigail, and the others have all been lying about the devil, John confronts the court. The highest judge, Danforth (Frank Zotter), is deeply entrenched in his own power, and his fanatical perversion of faith in the name of being a “good” Christian.
The cast is, for the most part, excellent, particularly Damayo, whose Abigail is dangerous, rejected, frustrated, and doing her best to have some autonomy in her oppression. The saintly Elizabeth could be one-note; instead, Struthers teases out the bitter disappointment and humiliation she feels still toward her philandering, gaslighting husband, and she also gets in some great deadpan delivery, such as when she tells John, “Grant me this, you have a faulty understanding of young girls.” Zotter’s Danforth is deliciously evil; his performance might be over the top in other productions, but it perfectly suits the tone that Nelson sets here.
But there are two major flaws in this production of The Crucible. The affectation of a Barbadian accent is jarring and deeply at odds with Nelson’s otherwise progressive staging. Secondly, the sound-design choice to utilize a flurry of hushed whispers and giggling throughout the show was confusing and not well-executed. It also seemed to signal to the audience that it was time for them to start whispering to each other. The show isn’t perfect, but for the most part, Nelson, who is an MFA candidate, exhibits a subversive fearlessness in
deconstructing and recontextualizing a contemporary classic. Her Crucible signals a confident and exciting new voice behind the scenes.
> ANDREA WARNER I LOST MY HUSBAND
Written by Catherine Léger and translated by Leanna Brodie. Directed by Diane Brown. A Ruby Slippers Theatre production, in association with the Gateway Theatre. At the Gateway Theatre on Saturday, March 17. Continues until March 24
Playwright Catherine Léger takes 2
a sledgehammer to the gendered expectations of likability and offers up something much more nuanced and challenging in I Lost My Husband’s lead character, Evelyn (Meghan Gardiner), a 30-something, slightly narcissistic mess whose abrasive personality and competitive streak do little to mask her dissatisfaction with her life. The only time Evelyn’s truly happy is when she’s getting drunk and doing karaoke, caught up in her own performative profundity—“the poetry”, she says, of singing “Black Velvet” four times in a row in an empty bar.
She argues with the young, beautiful, 20-year-old bartender and student, Melissa (Agnes Tong), and the two get into an escalating series of wagers about who knows the lyrics to the most songs. Eventually, Melissa says she doesn’t want Evelyn’s money—she wants her husband, a 50-something Bmw–dealership owner who’s a big man around town. Evelyn doesn’t hesitate and takes the bet, loudly declaring it on camera while Melissa films her on her phone. The next morning, Evelyn wakes up hungover to find her husband has already moved into Melissa’s, leaving Evelyn behind with his 20-year-old son, William (Curtis Tweedie), who happens to be in love with Melissa, his former classmate.
The premise is ridiculous, of course, but it also feels subversive. Commodifying a male character who is never seen, but whose presence takes up so much space, is fascinating. He rules Evelyn, Melissa, and William’s lives, even when he’s not there, and each of them has to work toward becoming the centre of their own universe, rather than orbiting him. There are some moments in the script that don’t land well, and that pose lingering questions afterward—like, why is Melissa, the only other female character in the play, constantly belittled and reduced for her good looks, interests, and sexuality? Additionally, Evelyn’s realization about her future doesn’t feel earned. Another five minutes of character development would have made the conclusion much more satisfactory.
The small cast is impressive. Tong brings a necessary depth to Melissa, and Tweedie’s physical embodiment of William is perfect. Raugi Yu, who plays weed dealer Steve, deserves a special Jessie Award for the way he conveys stoned awe. It’s a brief moment, but Yu’s Steve is hilariously transfixed by the simple act of speaking. Gardiner deftly humanizes Evelyn without softening her. She does and says a lot of ill-advised things— like when she decides to commit arson, and stages it as a “hate crime” because of her “hard-core” feminism. But Evelyn’s also relatable: all she wants is to be important and be taken seriously. I Lost My Husband has some flaws, but its complexity is perfectly in keeping with its lead character.
> ANDREA WARNER