I made no secret of the fact I was attending the live screening of The Crucible at the Picturehouse largely because of my admiration (read: adoration) of Richard Armitage. However, when he took a final ‘star’ bow at the end, I have to confess I wondered whether he deserved it. This is not to question Armitage’s talent: from bitter anger to resigned tenderness, he brought tears to my eyes in his final scenes with wife Elizabeth Proctor (Anna Madeley), while Madeley herself more than matched Armitage in her sensitive, subtle rendering of this brave and uncompromising character. Rather, Armitage did not stand out as a ‘star’ because the performances across the cast were flawless. Occasional moments of comic relief were provided with aplomb by Giles Corey (William Gaunt), Francis Nurse (Neil Salvage) and Rebecca Nurse (Ann Firbank), their down-to-earth comments both all the more comic and terrible within the corrupting world of the play. 

Every aspect of this production is conceived to precision, creating an intense experience that cannot be easily forgotten upon leaving the auditorium. That this can be achieved in a screening of a play testifies to the value of the recent trend towards theatre productions. Perhaps we ought to start considering the live-screening as an independent art form in its own right. Of course, there are advantages and disadvantages to every filmed version of a production. At times, particularly during scene changes, there was an irritating tendency to switch rapidly between shots, and I found myself wishing the camera would pan out to show the wider scene on stage. But this was a tiny flaw in an otherwise perfect screening, easily balanced out by moments where the camera’s focus picked out details such as a tear trailing from Abigail Williams’s (Samantha Colley) dark eyes, or John Proctor’s (Richard Armitage) raw and bloody hands clutching his wife’s hair.

The music was particularly striking: although it is often claimed you shouldn’t notice the music in a film, I found the hauntingly low chords reverberated in my mind long afterwards. Music and lighting was integral to the production’s powerful atmosphere: figures in black emerged from starkly lit doorways, lanterns hovered in men’s hands, and spotlights burst down as women were frenzied with madness. The production was also strikingly physical, from the splash of water poured into a bowl, to the intensity of looks across the stage that became embraces. The exhilarating power of Miller’s writing – with some of the speeches almost poetic in their desperation and defiance – was brought viscerally to life.

This production will prey on your mind, just as personal desires and the superstition of witchcraft prey upon the minds of the characters. It’s not an easy watch, but while it disturbs, it enthrals. In a long production, the hour and a half following the interval flew by, keeping me on the edge of my seat. Despite its original conception as a response to the wave of Communist trials sweeping America, Miller’s play is no less powerful now than when it was first written. The Old Vic’s production brought out relevant fears, such as the power of group mentality: seeing the screened version really highlighted moments when the audience watching the play were mirrored by the actors onstage watching the trial. 

If you can get a ticket to the encore screenings of The Crucible, do: it’s a testimony to what Miller, theatre and live screenings can do. And did I mention it has Richard Armitage in it?