Timely Warning Courses Through Dramaworks’ Shattering ‘The Crucible’

By Bill Hirschman

Fear becomes tactile in Palm Beach Dramaworks’ shattering The Crucible because the nightmare on display is as much a mirror of our times as a tale of the witchcraft purge in 1692 Salem.

Arthur Miller’s classic condemning the McCarthy/ HUAC persecutions resounds so deafeningly that today’s audience can feel their shoulders tightening and breath growing shallower as the implacable noose closes in on all too recognizable ordinary people like themselves at the play’s center.

For Miller’s Eisenhower audiences struggling with the anti-Communism witchhunt in 1953, this was meant as a desperate petition. In 2026, it is a warning.

Dramaworks’ Producing Artistic Director William Hayes and his team have molded a 20-member cast of impassioned actors in one of the finest productions that esteemed company has birthed.

It’s a challenging nearly three-hour trek (with an intermission) watching a community enveloped by an ever swelling sinking whirlpool.

Watch as self-aggrandizing, conscienceless cowards, fools and demagogues insert “facts” into easily misinterpreted conspiracy theories. Watch the public’s knowing acquiescence to the fiction they are being wooed with — which is, if not credible, then an easily defensible pretext. The echoes of the 1950’s nightmare and its current resonance and its unfortunately timeless applicability are not hidden, although never feeling preachy.

But if you have never seen The Crucible or not in some time, Miller and Hayes push beyond that indictment. They elevate the theme into the responsibility to make a courageous response. Specifically, this advocates remaining true to our personal integrity as human beings regardless of any cost whatsoever.

The premise: When a group of teenage girls are found wildly dancing in a midnight moonlit forest near Salem, their manipulative leader Abigail Williams persuades them to defend themselves by pretending the Devil has infected them. Some appear to fall into a transitory comatose stupor. To buttress their defense, they accuse neighbors of being witches – a hanging offense.

The growing fear is inflamed by “witchcraft expert” preacher Rev. Hale and fueled by neighbors using it as an excuse to pursue land acquisition and personal power.

Much of the community unquestionably believes the Devil exists and is an imminent threat, as most Americans did about Communism in the 1950s.  For one reason, many use it to explain otherwise unexplainable tragedies such as the woman who has lost seven of eight children in childbirth.  Some use it to deal with uncomfortable conundrums such as a relative “reading strange books.” As the community members are drawn deeper and deeper by the infectious disease, they need to believe in the epidemic they have invested in.

People are arrested, charged and sentenced to death; the curse mushrooms so out of control that even some of initial instigators fill with doubt.

At the center are farmer John Proctor whose wife Elizabeth is accused, in part because John’s former illicit girlfriend is the very same Abigail who started the hysteria. To save Elizabeth, John would have to reveal the affair., or alternatively risk his own life.

John is very much a no-nonsense citizen yet who hates the hypocrisy of religious leaders to the point that he rarely attends church. Elizabeth is an upstanding honorable person who is somewhat confined by the sexist mores of the time and can come across as cold. Further, she knows of the now-renounced affair with Abigail.

Hayes’ consistent vision of a tempest was borne out of considerable research including studying Miller papers at a Texas university library. He has underscored Miller’s depiction of a male-dominated society that confined women to a subservient status.

Tom Patterson and Elisabeth Yancey ending their affair.

Inhabiting that vision into three dimensions is a remarkable cast. Start with Tom Patterson who creates a flawed but basically honorable everyday citizen in John Proctor. Julie Kleiner succeeds in the difficult role making Elizabeth a wise societal-repressed soul we can see under her cauterized exterior.

Elisabeth Yancey creates a manipulative Abigail who feeling rejected by John has become an ego-centric self-preservationist with no bottom in her rejection of conscience – even savoring the power she is accumulating.

Tom Wahl delivers Rev. Parris as obsessed with his reputation and social standing. Karen Stephens disappears inside Tituba who retreats into voodoo rites.   Nick Jordan makes Rev. Hale’s evolution from a genuine believer in his role to rout witchcraft into a doubter of the resulting devastation. Andy Prosky has only been in one Dramaworks’ show previously, but his Deputy-Governor Danforth is a terrifying incarnation of unquestioned righteous power. And it is so good to see Barbara B. Bradshaw back on stage as the doomed Rebecca Nurse.

Praiseworthy are Margery Lowe as panicking mother Ann Putnam, Cat Boynto as Mary Warren, Rob Donahoe as Giles, John Leonard Thompson as Thomas Putnam, plus young Kaia Davis, Natalie Donahue McMahon, Hannah Hayley, Peter W. Galman, Seth Trucks, David A. Hyland, Gary Cadwallader and John Campagnuolo.

The brilliance of the script, precisely nailed by Hayes’ vision, is setting it without reservation in 1692, complete with the time’s vocabulary, sentence structure and verbal rhythm. And yet, the paradigm on display is, intentionally, like watching tonight’s newscast. Unlike Miller’s classic low-key Death of a Salesman or All My Sons, this often erupts in rage from both the characters and Miller.

The grim mood is set the moment the audience walks in: An ominous gnarled tree includes a threatening hanging branch reaching out to the house constantly pointing at us, accusing us; evocatively lit with striated light and shadow; thunder and eerie reverberations, and unless my eyes were failing, a faint ghostly projection of a woman drifting in and out.

The atmosphere is the aggregate of technical director Doug Wilkerson’s first set design, Joe Santiago’s lighting, Roger Arnold’s sound design that includes original compositions, Adam J. Thompson’s projection design and, of course, deft stage management by Suzanne Clement Jones and assistant Anna-Teressa Soto-Andujar. Jessica Chen doubled as assistant director and the choreographer of the opening tableau of possessed dancing.

Once again, Brian O’Keefe has clothed the cast in garb that is subtly distinct to each individual. For instance, the black and white outfits for the most of the men differ slightly.

The uniformly steady accents are thanks to Robin Chrstian-McNair although when a few of the actors get racing, their enunciation gets too muddy.

We are always a bit antsy about overpraising a show, especially so often in such a superior season across the region this year. But trust us, this is why theater exists!

The Crucible plays through April 19 at from Palm Beach Dramaworks, 201 Clematis Street, downtown West Palm Beach. Performances 7:30 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday at 7:30 p.m., 2 p.m. Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday.  Post-performance discussions follow Wednesday and Thursday matinees. Tickets $95, student tickets $15 with a valid K-12 or university/college ID, and anyone under 40 pays $40 (no additional fees) with a photo ID. Tickets for educators and active military are half price with proper ID (other restrictions apply). Group rates are also available. Tickets at box office, or calling 561.514.4042 ext. 2), and online at palmbeachdramaworks.org.    

A promotional video is at https://tinyurl.com/mpfx8ave

A review of the same title produced at The Sarasota Players through April 5 can be read here from Artsbeat.org, a new site with features and reviews of the arts in the Sarasota area. We will be publishing much more of their work soon. Do check out the site.

Tom Patterson as John Proctor is confronted by the chief judge (Andy Prosky)