The Crucible review: A clever revival that shows the perils of self-righteousness

‘The Crown’ star Erin Doherty dispels all memories of Princess Anne as a broken Abigail in Arthur Miller’s landmark play

Erin Doherty in ‘The Crucible' (Johan Persson)

There’s a sensuous beauty to Lyndsey Turner’s production of The Crucible. An extravagant curtain of rain cascades from the top of the stage, flickering and sparking in the light like TV static. The action is constantly underscored by the sound of the human voice, in hums or hymns from a hidden choir that rise to yells at moments of emotional intensity. This gorgeous richness contrasts perfectly with its author Arthur Miller’s subject: a puritanical 17th-century community whose girls, deprived of beauty and pleasure, turn to more violent sources of satisfaction.

Erin Doherty plays the girls’ leader, Abigail, as a harsh, broken thing. You might have seen Doherty playing a wry, horsey Princess Anne in The Crown. Here, her straggly blonde hair and puppet-like ungainliness dispel any memories of that performance. Brendan Cowell doesn’t bring much glamour to the central male role of John Proctor, either. This part can become irritatingly saint-like: a man who rejects Abigail’s advances and chooses the path of probity. But here, Cowell is a shambling (if principled) hick who grabs the girls around him by the collar of their pretty dresses in moments of rage.

Miller’s play is as precisely constructed and as brutal as a metal mantrap in the woods. This nearly three-hour revival doesn’t waste a single scene. When young servant Mary Warren (Rachelle Diedericks) realises she has life-or-death power over her employers, the Proctors, she seems to shine with an inner light of self-righteousness.