When Ron Donachie takes the stage as Deputy Governor Danforth in the second half of Arthur Miller’s classic, it’s as if this 17th century parable of superstition and intolerance has a new centre of gravity. It’s partly that Donachie seems three times bigger than everyone else, a bullish figure, no less fearsome for his legal attire. It’s partly that his charismatic stillness commands attention and defies contradiction. But it’s also that, in presenting himself as reasonable, considerate and fair, he puts you in mind of every leader who gets his way by masking ruthless force with politeness. Insert name of most hated government minister here.
Until this point, the stage was most alive when Richard Conlon’s Reverend Hale was claiming his observations of witchcraft are based not on hearsay but on meticulously gathered evidence. He is all the more frightening for believing himself both rational and good. His belated awakening will send him on the play’s greatest emotional journey.
In the lead role, Philip Cairns plays John Proctor more like an everyday neighbour than a man of high moral principle. Tousle-haired and bearded, he is reluctantly drawn into the hysterical battle for Salem’s soul but never quite achieves the clarity of thought to put himself above it. No match for the wit of Meghan Tyler’s Abigail or the humility of Irene Allan’s wife, Elizabeth, he conveys the sense of a life wasted but not of a great man fallen.
Director John Dove takes it at fast trot (it comes in well over an hour shorter than Yaël Farber’s 2014 production) as he positions the cast in static tableaux on Michael Taylor’s skeletal barn of a set. With Tim Mitchell’s full-face lighting, it’s like watching a series of paintings by old masters – an approach that keeps the focus on a compelling text but with an old-fashioned staginess.
• At the Royal Lyceum, Edinburgh, until 19 March. Box office: 0131-248 4848.
