The Crucible -Backstage West Critics Pick
October 10, 2007
By Eric Marchese

When one hears Deputy-Governor Danforth, in Arthur Miller's 1953 drama, say, "You're either with this court or against it; there is no in between," it's hard not to think of current politics. Of course, Miller wrote of the Salem witch trials, drawing comparisons with the McCarthyism of the playwright's heyday. Miller tears the veil away from the use of scare tactics to elicit fear, thereby coercing the public at large while further aggregating power into the hands of a select few. In doing so, his writing is especially bitter, tempestuous, and, ultimately, poignant. In weeping for the victims of witch finders past and present, Miller weeps for himself and for us all.

Jill Cary Martin's well-cast and almost uniformly well-acted black box rendition gets right to the heart of Miller's intentions. Katherine Futterer, Robert W. Parker, R.J. Romero, and Lindsey Suits paint an ominous mood via gnarled tree shadows, eerie sound effects, ghostly green lights, and plaintive, contemplative music. Mark Coyan and Jessica Topliff tower in their portrayals of John and Elizabeth Proctor, whose marriage, disturbed by John's brief affair with servant girl Abigail Williams, is tested by Abigail's accusations that Elizabeth is a witch. All this staging's other fine performances aside, Coyan and Topliff deliver a shattering range of emotions and an accurate portrait of any marriage's depths and complexities.

Nakisa Aschtiani's Abigail is a strong-willed, spiteful slut and a consummate actress whose malicious fantasies whip up hysteria, destroy reputations, and end lives. In her layered portrayal of Abigail's conflicted pal Mary Warren, Karen Huckfeldt is superb, as are Bill Peters -- as a fastidious, hypercultured Danforth -- and Paul Knox as Reverend Hale, who awakens from the nightmare too late to stop its effects. By evening's end, he stands emotionally hollowed out -- as do we all.

Presented by and at the Rude Guerilla Theater ,

202 N. Broadway, Santa Ana.

Fri.-Sat. 8 p.m., Sun. 2:30 p.m. (Also Thu. 8 p.m. Oct. 25.) Oct. 5-27.