We’re living in the Age of Outrage.
Just take a look at the vitriolic comments to any newspaper article or social media post. Flame wars and arguments erupt regularly — on the internet but also in crowded airplanes and café queues. We’re always in the right; someone else is to blame.
So it’s no wonder that contemporary playwright Jen Silverman felt drawn to the Jacobean tragicomedy “The Witch of Edmonton” for her 2022 play “Witch,” which is getting a handsome production at Soulpepper.
The 17th-century play was inspired by the real-life case of Elizabeth Sawyer, an older impoverished woman who was accused of witchcraft, shunned by her neighbours and eventually put on trial for being a witch. According to history, her accusers claimed she was visited by the Devil in the form of a dog.
Silverman has taken the bones of the play and created an intriguing, if not entirely successful, contemporary play about scapegoating, temptation and injustice in a complicated, all-too-human world.
The Devil, named Scratch (Nicholas Eddie), visits the north London district of Edmonton looking for souls to claim. It doesn’t take long for him to convince Cuddy Banks (Thomas Mitchell Barnet), the ineffectual closeted son of a wealthy landowner named Sir Arthur Banks (Oliver Dennis) to kill his rival, Frank Thorney (Shawn Ahmed).
Frank is a modestly born farmer who’s essentially been adopted by Arthur, all but supplanting his son. He’s a lot more presentable than Cuddy, whose main joy in life is Morris dancing. When Scratch offers to strike a deal with Frank, the latter asks to become Banks’ heir.
And then Scratch meets Elizabeth (Tantoo Cardinal), whom the townsfolk have scapegoated for all of their problems. More than anyone, she has reason to get back at her abusers. But rather than seek vengeance, she wants to be left alone. Scratch, it seems, has met his match.
Unlike Lucy Kirkwood’s “The Welkin”, another play about an ostracised woman in an English village several centuries ago, Silverman doesn’t concern herself with the period details of her characters’ lives. Sure, there are a couple of scenes of Morris dancing, choreographed by Monica Dottor and executed by Barnet with aplomb. And Ting-Huan Christine Urquhart obviously studied 17th-century fashions for her costumes, which tell you a lot about wealth, privilege and class.
But Silverman employs a jokey contemporary language, filled with expressions like “on the DL” and “What is the BFD?” This allows modern concerns like toxic masculinity and climate change to emerge naturally, especially in director Courtney Ch’ng Lancaster’s lively production, which includes other modern touches like heavy-metal stings in Olivia Wheeler’s score and sound design.
What she hasn’t done, however, is provide compelling connections between the central story of Scratch and Elizabeth and the comic shenanigans going on in Sir Arthur Banks’ home. Like Elizabeth, Cuddy is an outsider because of his sexual orientation and interest in dance. Frank and Winnifred, Banks’ servant, come from the working class, which also places them on the margins. Is that enough of a connection?
Unfortunately, because we haven’t witnessed the cruelty that the town has inflicted on her, Elizabeth’s motivations lack immediacy. This is not to detract from Cardinal’s calm dignified performance, especially in some absorbing monologues near the end, but there’s something unfinished about the character she’s playing.
Scratch is a more layered role, and Eddie — who was so mesmerizing in last year’s “Bug” at the King Black Box — brings out the humour, menace and charismatic charm in this devilishly demanding part. Lancaster makes great use of his height early on, when he gets up from a chair and towers over the person he’s attempting to seduce.
The supporting cast is fine, executing lots of business on Nick Blais’ set, which contrasts Banks’ formal living area on one side of the playing area with Elizabeth’s more humble abode on the other. (The audience sits, alley style, on either side of the stage.)
The most notable element of the set is a stone well in the middle, which acts as both a literal well and, as lit by Jareth Li, perhaps a portal to hell. Characters walk around its edges, often balancing on the rim.
Lancaster and her design team pull some intriguing things from this well, especially in the prophetic and satisfying conclusion. If only Silverman’s script were deeper and more nuanced, the effort would be worth it.
