What is there left to say about The Crucible? A play so scrutinised, so constantly reinterpreted against the times, that to review it seems redundant. In this light, this review is a reflection specifically on the Globe Theatre's staging of Arthur Miller's 1953 classic - part of the Summer 2025 programme - and what it means to sit inside a theatre with four hundred years of history contemplating a 20th century play's relevance in 2025.
This production, directed by Ola Ince, is refreshingly snappy and full of wit. The plebeian, open setting of the Globe - a space historically informal and shared, where everyone sees everything and no one is offstage for long - is fitting. Passing planes overhead repeatedly added to the live musical score, a reminder of the porousness between artifice and reality, play-pretend and play-as-allegory, 17th century paranoia and our modern inheritance.
The set design by Amelia Jane Hankin further capitalises on the Globe's unique layout by including raised wooden platforms in the standing yard. Hefty yet spare, unstained wooden set pieces (beds, tables, stocks) are visually congruent with the play's Puritan setting and the architectural bones of the theatre. Costume design is modestly 17th century with hidden yet exciting details: rich, layered capes; high leather boots; full, weighty skirts in earth tones.
In this staging, the use of pace and rhythm sustains attention over the three hour run. Dialogue is delivered at a clipped, contemporary cadence, shaving around thirty minutes from the traditional runtime (according to the ushers) - a choice which not only suits our overstimulated, short-form-attuned era, but also animates tension, humour, and conflict.
The combined chemistry of a talented cast bolsters the production's momentum. Gavin Drea commands as John Proctor. Phoebe Pryce brings a quiet stoicism to Elizabeth. Drea and Pryce deliver scenes with blistering acid or tender, quiet force. Movement direction by Ebony Molina with back-bending contortions adds drama to a space that demands full presence from all angles. The play's characters stride across the stage and platforms, women's hands often busy with housework - not only making clever use of the in-the-round setting but also reminding the audience of the gendered restrictions and domestic sphere that shaped the history of the Salem witch trials.
Theatre is a form of pretending, but sitting there in the round, under an open sky, that pretense is layered. We are not just watching the trials, we are inside them. But what is our crucible - what impurities are we trying to burn away?
The temptation, of course, is to reach for the line, 'Is the accuser always holy now?' and invoke the backlash against the #MeToo movement or the unravelling truths of Trumpian America. A perhaps underexplored parallel lies not just in political hysteria, but the cultural panic surrounding technology - particularly how AI and digital ecosystems complicate our expectations of childhood, imagination and control.
‘Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! ... How may I live without my name?' John Proctor laments in the final scene. Today, your name, your data, your digital self, might outlive you, and not always truthfully.
In a world where the internet remembers everything, there are increasingly few spaces for children to play or imagine freely. In Salem, a teenage fantasy - Abigail's jealousy and desire - has mortal consequences. A community's anxieties over an uncertain future latch onto a false prophet, one who seduces with decisive (if destructive) answers in a world that resists simplification. Miller understood that hysteria isn't born of nothing: it requires a spark, yes, but also fuel: misinformation, taboo and the urge to purify. These are the conditions which make false prophets alluring. We should be wary of them.
Arthur Miller's The Crucible at the London's Globe Theatre must end 12 July. Tickets: here.
Review: ELT Photo: Marc Brenner