Hanging Time

By Elizabeth Dunn

[1] The Crucible is a work about fear. Everything starts because a handful of girls are afraid that their minor transgressions will be discovered by the parents and fellow townspeople. With a bit of well-placed provocation, the petty fear shared by a few children grows into a widespread terror. Those who do not succumb to the universal paranoia are afraid they will become victims of it, and their fears are often proven right.

[2] Chapter 13 opens with the excommunication of those who have been accused of witchcraft and deny the charge in front of their peers. Quickly after they have been spiritually cast out, the hangings begin. The crowd raucously cheers as each body is shoved off the scaffold and their necks crack sickeningly, the undeniable spectacle quenching their bloodlust. However, individuals react with different emotions. Goody Ann Putnam, who truly believes in the witchcraft, seems vindicated by the midwife’s death. Her husband, whose avarice led him to tell his daughter to accuse his neighbors, looks on in anticipation. Abigail Williams seems amazed by the extent of her power, her ability to end a life simply by pointing her finger. Some watch the scene somberly, for they believe it is a necessary but unpleasant undergoing, and some rejoice that God’s work is being done. The hanging scenes happen in a soundless montage. I think this is to symbolize the loss of reason among the people. After the people are pushed off the scaffold, their faces are not shown. This is because they have been dehumanized; they are not God’s soulful creatures, but entertainment.

[3] The scene cuts away from the still excited crowd to Giles Corey, who is being slowly crushed to death in an attempt to make him speak. Reverend Parris pleads with Corey to break his silence, to which Corey refuses; the next rock dumped on his chest is the one that kills him. Unlike the “witches” who are hanged, whose feet are shown dangling and that is all, Giles Corey dies with a close-up on his face. He dies horribly, but his face is peaceful; he has died with his integrity intact. Also, since his death was not ordered by law for a capital offense, the people take off their hats in respect for him. No one wanted to see him die. His death marks a shift in the people’s sentiments.

[4] After Giles Corey’s death, the celebration ceases. No longer caught up in the frenetic energy of the witch hunt, the people look with gravitas at the bodies still dangling from the ropes. The novelty of it has waned. Now that it is no longer exciting, the townspeople realize that nineteen people have died; the weight of this truth lies heavy on the townspeople’s consciences. Even Abigail seems slightly sickened by the morbid sight before her. The crowd’s spacing is also different. Before when they were pleased with the goings on, they leaned into each other, raised their arms together; now they stand close together but do not touch. They are ashamed to be in the same group but are too afraid still to stand and bear the guilt alone. The scene then cuts to Abigail going to visit John Proctor’s house. She is sad that she has lost John Proctor after Mary Warren’s accusation that he was in league with the devil, but she is unwilling to speak out and tell the truth, even for him. By now it is too late; she has seen what happens to girls who confess the truth (they are almost arrested for being witches themselves), and being believed would be worse: she would be considered a murderer. Either way she would almost surely die. She is spotted at Proctor’s house by Reverend Hale; he gives her a knowing, accusing look.

[5] What follows is probably the one of the most crucial parts of the film. Abigail Williams retaliates against Reverend Hale, who has been trying to curtail her power as lead “afflicted” witch hunter, end the witch hunt, and free the remaining “witches.” She claims to Judge Danforth that Reverend Hale’s wife’s spirit comes to her at night and scratches at her eyes so she can’t sleep. Danforth tells her she is mistaken, that a reverend’s wife wouldn’t become entangled with the devil. Abigail replies that no one is safe. Judge Sewall challenges her, asking who is safe if this is true. She is clearly stricken by this challenge; until this point, her word has gone unquestioned. Danforth reiterates that she is mistaken, and she understands that her power is diminished. She leaves hastily and fearfully. We see that the town has turned against her; they blame her for what they had previously so heartily endorsed. Even the camera keeps its distance from her, as if the audience is afraid to be associated with her.

[6] Danforth and Sewall speak in private; Sewall wants to end the witch hunt, says the people are burdened by it. Danforth claims he will not stop until Salem is safe. He says this nobly and with conviction, but he cannot possibly believe it. As evidenced just before, he clearly no longer has faith in Abigail’s testimony. Her word has been weakened by John Proctor and the implausibility of her own claims. He continues the witch hunt only because he wants to save face. To end it now is to invalidate all the work he did in the name of God; it is to admit that he was duped by little girls and was complicit with the murder of innocent people.