When the 17-year-old Abigail Williams (a darkly blushing Erin Doherty) incites a group of young girls in Salem to accuse their neighbours of witchcraft, the whole town finds itself sucked into a vortex of unfounded indictments and imminent executions. Nearly 70 years after on, The Crucible remains an object lesson in the perils of groupthink and mass hysteria, its tragedy buttressed by merciless intersections of the personal and the political. Painterly but unfussy, Turner’s staging fixes our gaze on those electric moments in Miller’s allegorical tale where unreason and blind faith lock horns with integrity. But under Lyndsey Turner’s aesthetically vigorous direction on the National Theatre’s Olivier stage, the play’s infected air becomes a breeding ground for visually arresting tableaux possessed of rampant emotional intensity.
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