The Crucible in the West End review – the production fares even better in a smaller venue

Following its barn-storming run in the National’s cavernous Olivier Theatre last autumn, Lyndsey Turner’s production of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible has transferred to the West End – along with the iconic deluge of rainfall that, in this heat, makes you want to run straight through it.

Though the Gielgud is smaller than the expansive Olivier, the production fares the better for it, narrowing Es Devlin’s set and adding to the claustrophobic nature of the show. Figures still disappear into darkness, dirt piles high at the sides of the stage threatening to topple, and the ceiling slopes downwards. This is an isolated town with no escape.

A handful of the cast remain from last year’s run, including Karl Johnson’s Giles Corey who adds a sprinkle of humour to proceedings (“is she going to fly again?”), Matthew Marsh’s sturdy Judge Danforth and Fisayo Akinade’s Reverend Hale, whose entire philosophy seems to crumble around him as the trials press on. The new members of the cast change the energy of the piece.

Making her London stage debut, House of the Dragon star Milly Alcock takes on the role of Abigail Williams. She gives an incredibly self-assured performance of a panicked young adult who, following her first taste of love/lust, has whipped up a frenzy bigger than she could have imagined. As she comes into her power, she hardens and doubles down – her courtroom confrontation with Mary Warren (an impressive Nia Towle), backed by the other girls screaming and writhing, is frightening. As Danforth notes, the children are “jangling the keys”. Though Abigail doesn’t have a huge amount of dialogue, Turner’s direction ensures her presence through silent scenes at the back of the stage, always in Proctor’s mind. As the man of her adoration, Brian Gleeson is an anchor in the production, desperately clinging to his reality and what he believes is right.

Interestingly, this remounting seems to garner more laughs than in its outing at the National. The opening scene, in particular, has a touch of sitcom about it as the townsfolk argue about land and lumber (Hale’s quip that his books are “weighted with authority” is the stuff of Netflix screenshots). But Turner ensures that the production does not become farcical. Instead, with the cast’s faces in shadows (Tim Lutkin’s light design is stunning work), we see how these arguments slide into dangerous and terrifying territory. While Miller wrote this play as an allegory for McCarthyism, it goes without saying that it still stands the test of time and is as applicable today.

A magnificent revival, with a strong ensemble. Even if you’ve seen The Crucible before, it’s always worth another trip.