Dir. Nicholas Hytner
Starring: Daniel Day Lewis,
Winona Ryder, Paul Scofield, Joan Allen
From the Blair Witch we progress
to the tale of the Salem Witches. We arrive in Massachusetts as the first
settlers did, scratching a living on an unforgiving shore. America was a new
land, and these hardy souls were barely a toe-hold on the edge of a continent.
But they brought many things with them – their religion, their sins and their
superstition.
The settlement in question is
Salem, Massachusetts, and the year is 1692. After dark the girls of the town
gather in the woods. They ask Tituba (Charlayne Woodard), the Reverend Parris’s
Barbadian slave, to cast folk spells to make the objects of their desires fall
in love with them. But the Reverend (Bruce Davison) surprises them. In the
shock two of the girls, including his own daughter, fall unconscious. Rumour
gets around that it was the devil’s doing. One by one Tituba, Abigail and the
other girls realise that the population want to blame everything on the devil.
By confirming this belief, recanting their sins, and blaming others they can
clear themselves of the guilt for their relatively minor wrongdoings. Whereas
if they deny that the devil was involved they are seen as willing witches
covering up his doings and must be punished. This gives the girls great power –
they can name anyone in the community they wish. Abigail seizes upon the
opportunity to name Elizabeth Proctor (Joan Allen) as a witch – she is in love
with Elizabeth’s husband John (Daniel Day Lewis), with whom she had an affair.
John is therefore keen to prove that these tales are lies and save his wife.
However, he is in an irrational situation. Refusing to confess guilt is taken
as a sign of guilt. Only the innocent who lie and claim guilt are safe; the
innocent who refuse to lie are sentenced to hang. “If you do not know what a witch is, how do you know you are not one?”
Everything is hence topsy-turvy.
It proceeds from a faulty premise – that there is witchery at work in Salem.
Thereafter it is like a game of tag; once named a suspect has to pass on the
blame to someone else. And so the mania spreads and the list of those arrested
likewise spreads. John Proctor’s initial hope is to disprove that first
premise, based on what Abigail told him. To do so he must condemn himself as an
adulterer (“the crime of lechery”).
Moreover, the authorities, as personified in Paul Scofield’s riveting
performance as the steely Judge Danforth seem to be aware that there is a
subjective element to all this. When Abigail later names Reverend Hale’s wife
he sternly tells her “You are mistaken
child. Understand me?” The forces of law are not willing to countenance
some charges; at the same time they may be motivated themselves by fear of the
girls. Abigail does essentially threaten him at one point: “Let you beware, Mr Danforth. Do you think yourself so mighty the Devil
may not turn your wits?” Everyone is out to protect themselves, from
Tituba, to Abigail, to Reverend Parris, to the judge himself. The Puttnams,
while devastated by the loss of their children, are clearly also eager to use
the opportunity to acquire the land of their neighbours – a fact dwelt upon
more heavily by Jean-Paul Sartre’s 1957 film version produced in collaboration
with Communist East Germany. The only ones who refuse to condemn others – such
as John and Giles Corey (Peter Vaughan) – must, inevitably, according to this
skewed logic, face death.
The story is based in truth. Or
two truths. The Salem Witch Trials really did occur, though the events were
amended for dramatic license. But another set of trials influences the script:
Senator Joseph McCarthy and the House Un-American Activities Committee. During
the late 1940s and into the ‘50s public grillings were held to look for
evidence of Communist agents or sympathisers in government, entertainment and
other areas. Witnesses were often asked to name people they suspected of being
Communists. Those who did – such as Elia Kazan, director of Splendor in the Grass and A Streetcar Named Desire) - were treated
as ‘friendly witnesses’. Those who
refused were blacklisted. Arthur Miller, writer of The Crucible, was called before HUAC himself in 1956 and convicted
of ‘contempt of Congress’. McCarthy’s
search for ‘Reds under the bed’ is
now routinely classified as a ‘witch-hunt’. It was Miller who first made that
parallel clear with his 1953 play of The
Crucible.
The Crucible was hence initially a stage-play before it was a film.
The provenance is impeccable however – Miller himself adapted his play for the
screen and was nominated for an Oscar for his work. The transition from stage
sets to film sets gives the film an added dimension. Whereas, say, Streetcar still looked like it was
filmed on a stage set (albeit a large one), The
Crucible suits the bleak marshes and mudflats of its cinematic setting. The
cold grey sea and sky and the ever-present wind remind viewers that this is a
harsh landscape where these settlers were only just able to subsist. And it was
directed by a man well conversant with the stage: Nicholas Hytner, one-time
director of London’s National Theatre (and old boy of the same school as yours
truly). He was also responsible for the successful stage-to-screen transfers of
Alan Bennett’s The Madness of King George
and The History Boys. (He is best off
sticking to theatrical adaptations however, as his next gig after The Crucible was the abject
written-for-the-screen Jennifer Aniston vehicle The Object of My Affections). Some of the language does betray its
stage origins. Perhaps not surprising – the events in question happened less
than a century after Shakespeare was writing, and I’ve often thought it
difficult to suspend disbelief entirely when watching Shakespeare simply due to
the alienness of much of the language to a modern ear. Miller tried to use the
cadences of the King James Bible to
inform his characters’ speech patterns. The believability of the characters
hence depends on how well they can breathe life into these phrases. Scofield is
genuinely superb as Danforth – he commands ever scene he is in as the stern
servant of the law with only flickers of humanity brought to the surface by
Giles Corey’s self-taught lawyerisms. Most of the cast give a good account of
themselves. Vaughan has some trouble translating his essentially comic
character to the bleak tragedy presented, and Ryder is not wholly successful at
wrapping her mouth around such awkward phrases as “I will bring with me a pointy reckoning that will shudder you… I have
seen some reddish work done at night.”
But Ryder is generally good as
the leader of her cabal of hysterical and impressionable girls. Daniel Day
Lewis is Daniel Day Lewis – he did not bathe for the duration of filming and
built the Proctors’ wood house himself to get in character. He must have
impressed Arthur Miller with his portrayal as Miller later allowed him to marry
his daughter Rebecca. There are some notable others amongst the cast that
brought me up sharp. There is some exceptionally odd casting. Peter Vaughan, who played Corey, is most famous to British
eyes as criminal kingpin Grouty in the sitcom Porridge. Thomas Puttnam is played by Jeffrey Jones, also known as
Dean Rooney in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
And it took me ages to place the distinctive gravelly voice of George Gaynes as
Judge Sewell before I twigged that he had previously starred as the hapless
Commandant Eric Lassard in the Police
Academy series!
What have I
learnt about Massachusetts?
Frankly, the
first settlements here don’t look to have been a barrel of laughs. It was
brought home to me as never before just how tough life would have been, with
the ever-present wind coming off a steel gray ocean to sough through the marram
grass on the mudflats. I got the impression that these colonies really were
outposts stranded on the very edge of a vast continent, with one eye turned to
sea. That sea was their highway, with ships sailing from Boston to Barbados as
normal. Those settlers brought with them an idea of collective working as shown
by their meeting hall; they also brought with them their Christianity and superstitions, and the local reverend would seem to be the most important
person as a community leader. But because they were so intertwined and close to
each other disputes would have to be resolved by outside parties. Land to be
passed down through the generations was the only important thing. That, and
one’s name.
Can we go
there?
Yes – the film
was shot as near as dammit on location. The town of Salem has now grown up and
merged into the surrounding northern suburbs of Boston, but a similar location was found
for shooting along the coast to the north-east – Choate Island in the estuary of the Essex River in Massachusetts. It is part of
the Crane Wildlife Refuge, which explains its unspoiled state. There are a couple
of colonial-era buildings within the refuge too, although they are 18th
century rather than 17th – the Choate House on Choate Island and,
intriguingly, the Proctor Barn on neighbouring Long Island. Some interiors were
filmed in Beverly (home of Reverend Hale) at the Old United Shoe Factory (now
the Cummings Center) on Elliott Street.
The genuine Salem itself has plenty to see and do to remember the real witch trials –
particularly around Halloween. The town is home to the Salem Witch Museum, the Witch History Museum
and the Witch Dungeon Museum.
Overall Rating:
2/5
In 1692, Salem Village was actually located in what is now the city of Danvers, Massachusetts. Danvers split from Salem and became a separate town in 1757.
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