Jane Wenham - The Guardian
30 September 2015
Arthur Miller’s witch-hunt play The Crucible can be seen this autumn in both Manchester and Bristol. In her new play, Rebecca Lenkiewicz, best known for the suffragette drama Her Naked Skin, conjures her own theatrical sorcery out of a real-life English story of the fear of the female other. Jane Wenham was accused of witchery in the Hertfordshire village of Walkern in 1712, three years before the last official execution for witchcraft in England.
Walkern is not a happy place. Under its quiet exterior, fear and resentments and illicit passions bubble, and although some say that the hanging of Eleanor Thorn for witchcraft will cure the rot, the new parson, Samuel Crane (Tim Delap), believes that there are witches everywhere – much to the consternation of the Bishop Hutchinson (David Acton). The latter doesn’t believe in witches, but he knows that he, like many men, has the devil in his britches. He abuses his power over his servant, Kemi Martha (Cat Simmons, superb), a former slave who, although she might be free in law, is still in thrall to the whims of Hutchinson.
Kemi’s insistence that the air is “too thin” in Walkern is echoed by the experience of the other women in the village: Eleanor’s daughter, Ann (Hannah Hutch), is being driven mad by grief and her own and men’s desires; Widow Higgins (Rachel Sanders), the taphouse owner faces the difficulties of a woman alone; and Jane Wenham (Amanda Bellamy) draws attention to herself through her isolation. When a village child dies, accusations are made and the witch pricker called in.
It’s sometimes a little too schematic and several scenes go on for too long and allow the tension to drain. But Ria Parry’s wonderfully spare and atmospheric production – beautifully designed by James Button – ratchets up the drama as Lenkiewicz throws religion, fear, intolerance, prejudice and a headless chicken into the pot to create a heady brew.
Lynn Gardner
Walkern is not a happy place. Under its quiet exterior, fear and resentments and illicit passions bubble, and although some say that the hanging of Eleanor Thorn for witchcraft will cure the rot, the new parson, Samuel Crane (Tim Delap), believes that there are witches everywhere – much to the consternation of the Bishop Hutchinson (David Acton). The latter doesn’t believe in witches, but he knows that he, like many men, has the devil in his britches. He abuses his power over his servant, Kemi Martha (Cat Simmons, superb), a former slave who, although she might be free in law, is still in thrall to the whims of Hutchinson.
Kemi’s insistence that the air is “too thin” in Walkern is echoed by the experience of the other women in the village: Eleanor’s daughter, Ann (Hannah Hutch), is being driven mad by grief and her own and men’s desires; Widow Higgins (Rachel Sanders), the taphouse owner faces the difficulties of a woman alone; and Jane Wenham (Amanda Bellamy) draws attention to herself through her isolation. When a village child dies, accusations are made and the witch pricker called in.
It’s sometimes a little too schematic and several scenes go on for too long and allow the tension to drain. But Ria Parry’s wonderfully spare and atmospheric production – beautifully designed by James Button – ratchets up the drama as Lenkiewicz throws religion, fear, intolerance, prejudice and a headless chicken into the pot to create a heady brew.
Lynn Gardner