THE MORAL OF THE FILM?


[SPOILERS]

Okay, so what do you think is the point of the film?

I'm trying to figure it out.

I think of this movie as having some similarities to the movie Flight where leads of both movies have a choice, either admit a wrong or not to admit a wrong. However, there are differences:

1.) In Crucible the main character is not what he is accused of and for him integrity is not to admit to a crime, admission of which would save him.

2.) In Flight the main character is what he is accused of and for him integrity is to admit to a crime, admission of which will convict him.

So what is the point then of The Crucible?

In Flight the character has to admit the truth in order to regain the respect of his son and have some hope of a clean name and conscience.

In the Crucible the character has to keep from admitting fault to keep the respect of his sons, or rather their ability to be respectable.

As he cries out, "But it is my name, and I can have no other! Leave me my name!"

It was such a good scene.



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Some critics have said it's the kind of play that is so dramatic and seems so important you think it must have an important message or moral, but then when you think about it, where is it? John Proctor decided not to falsely confess, to die telling the truth, but he left four fatherless children behind (including one in utero) and a pregnant wife in jail. Did the play/movie make too big a deal of him not confessing? If not confessing is important, how is it universal to the audience?

To me it's a play/movie about a "good" man who messes about with an oversexed teen-ager in his employment because he has a frigid wife who on top of that got sick after having his third baby, and Arthur Miller pretends that's not what he wrote. One leading lady is oversexed, practically crazed with lust. That not only makes her monstrous, it's really flattering to Proctor. One time, and she goes crazy and would commit murder to get more. And it's not his fault, because his wife is cold, and not as cute as Abigail. He spends the first Act leading on Abby ("Smiling knowingly" playfully calling her "wicked", admitting he thinks about Abigal and sometimes looks up at her window) and the second act gaslighting his wife for not trusting him.

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So this is Gone Girl from the 1600s?

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Pretty much. What would the movie be without the sexually obsessive minister's niece? I'm not sure I get John Proctor's dilemma at the end. He has a lot of stuff going on besides his reputation and his "name" but that turns out to be the most important thing. How come? I'm not sure. I guess mainly the moral of the play is "groupthink is dangerous!" But groupthink here is so stupid I can't see many people taking it as a warning. It's a fatal attraction story where the women are the real problem and subtly get the blame shoved onto them while the guy is the hero who gets to grandstand about his moral quandary.

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Well, of course the play was about the Hollywood Blacklist and McCarthyism but I think it has more play than that.

There's definitely a Gone Girl element of this with Abigail.

But Proctor is not just grandstanding. He's trying to find a way out of this. If he confesses then he validates the entire process of witch-hunting, and validates the death of Giles Cory and all the other characters who have died and will die after his confession.

Then also there is an issue that we really don't consider anymore, a person's name. A person's reputation used to mean something. As a Puritan he knows theoretically he can confess his adultery with Abigail and trust God, but he isn't the most religious man to begin with. But what he cannot do if he confesses is ever remove the lie that confirmed the death of some of the best people he has ever known, women like Goodie Nurse and men like Giles Corey. People of integrity who didn't lie about a very perverse situation they saw developing.

If Proctor confesses and condemns his friends by his confession, then even if their father lives, his sons will be without a father. He will be a man who broke his integrity in a core and integral way and he will be a broken man afterwards, leaving his sons nothing but shame and failure, even though he lives.

That's what's so ugly about witch hunts, they seem to come out of nowhere and disappear out into nowhere but like a tornado, they are just wind and bluster, but destroy everything in their path. And so to destroy a nasty wind, the odd solution is more wind, a man sticking by his word. (Also the movie Good Night and Good Luck is really good on this topic.)

What do you think?

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I know that's his dilemma, but when all is said and done, I don't know if that's a dilemma worthy of an entire play. Considering the build-up to it was about other things. Maybe doing one good thing makes him feel redeemed about having cheated? Just think the set up and the pay-off don't match, but it's hard to notice because of all the action and melodrama.

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What about all the folks who died by not confessing?

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Yes, that would make him look less than them, but I want to know how we ended up there. A guy commits adultery. He feels really guilty about it, but also sort of tries to KINDA move on (although he still flirts with the girl he cheated with while telling his wife he's been a saint). Oops, it turns out the girl is hell bent on marrying him and if she has to murder his wife by claiming the wife is a witch, so be it. And then to make herself credible, she has to claim other people are witches, to build up to it, so it doesn't look like she's targeting just his wife. When he catches onto this he goes to court first to get his servant girl to call out the lying ex-girlfriend, then when that doesn't work, he has to confess he cheated. But his wife doesn't know he confessed, and lies to protect him. Oops. Everybody's in jail.

I just don't think the whole adultery/woman-scorned starter of the play organically leads to a guy bravely not selling out his friends. I mean as a theatre piece. Seems to me the climax should have something to do with redeeming the character flaw that led to his sinning in the first place, or at least with his not perceiving the consequences soon enough, but the climax of the play had nothing to do with that. He was just a guy who schtupped the wrong girl and in a way got half the town hung when it turned out she was going to get him or die trying (or make everyone else die trying). It's not a universal lesson -"be careful who you cheat with!" No universal moral of the story. Just a guy who in the end gets to say, "I may have cheated on my wife and caused all this mess as a result, but I won't save my own ass after all my friends have died because it turns out the girl I cheated with is evil. I'm an adulterer, but not a total scumbag." So hurrah for John, but it's not a universal moral, you know what I mean?

Or maybe the moral is - don't cheat, you never know what can happen!

OT: a lot of critics maintain Abigail had to set her plan in motion because the only way she could be John's wife was if Elizabeth was dead. Reading on the Puritan religion, Puritans thought marriage was a civil matter, an economic union, not a religious one, and so it wasn't against God. Divorce was not unheard of. For example, this one wife learned her husband had a wife in England, so the Puritan community put him in the stocks, fined him, excommunicated him, and gave all his property to his Puritan wife. In adultery, the practice was to kind of hear the situation out and then make a decision. So, for example, if Proctor said "My wife is cold, it's not working, I want a new wife," they may have granted it to him, making a property division for Elizabeth and the kids. Of course it would probably cost him $$ (property), like all divorces. If you read up these people married a whole bunch of times. I'm sure some of the spouses died, but some may have just decided to upgrade their circumstances.

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Those are all really good points. Back in high school (they probably still do this for the AP American History exam) we had to do this series of essays where we read historical documents and wrote an essay based on those. One was the Salem Witch Trials and a lot of what you said is true and so that's definitely possible, that if John was not a slimeball he would have just bit the bullet.

However, remember, John doesn't want her. Really I think a lot of the power of this film is the how messed up the world gets each year you live on this earth. I think John really loved his wife and she loved him but as she said she didn't know how to not be cold, and he didn't handle that well at all.

Then the point is does integrity mean anything when a man knows he doesn't have any? If only a perfect man is able to have integrity then no one will ever have it, right? So what place is there for integrity in the world? Is there no place at all? Only the Pope can have it and yet everyone is to assume that he diddles the alter boys anyway so he's just a big white-robed perv? So after all is said and done, there are only two options--false integrity and honest lack of integrity.

Where is the place for integrity? Where is the place for doing right? Does anything mean anything in the end?


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Well, IMO there are LOT of issues (sloppiness) with the play's writing that are papered over with the DRAMA and angst. I saw a youtube the other day where Arthur Miller and Daniel Day Lewis talked about the Crucible (Lewis went on to be Miller's son-in-law). This is from the 1990s when the movie was made. They edited the heck out of the conversation because it seemed Miller didn't know what he was talking about. He started by saying, "John Proctor is a farmer, who is in love with a servant girl." Then Miller said Abigail started out doing the lies "for fun", but when it turned serious, says Miller, "there is only one way to go after that!" And Lewis is trying to follow along, and Miller goes, "You (Abigail) have to start to believing it yourself!!" Then Miller started talking about how there were only hints at first that Abigail was after "Mrs. Proctor." Daniel Day Lewis tried to switch it to "I think John's big torment is that he caused great harm to the person he loved most in the world." (his wife) - but Miller was in no shape to respond. He was basically "It's a hell of a story!" So it seems to me he was most proud of the crazy girls part of it all, how he added that in and it got the audience excited.

Miller then went on about how girls in Puritan times had to behave, how repressed they were back then, but I know from what I've read he's got the details wrong about it.

Anyway, here are some of my problems with sloppiness in the story: The real Abigail accused in March-April (early spring). The play seems to take place at the same time, as the fields are not yet green, says John. We are told the affair happened seven months in the past, which would mean in September or October. But the affair, says Elizabeth Proctor, happened "last winter I was a long time sick with my last child." And unless John Proctor jumped on Abigail as his wife was giving birth, the baby was born even further back, giving Elizabeth time to be sick and not doing her wifely duties.

In Act II, Proctor goes: "the fields are full of flowers! The lilacs smell great!" But it's March or very early April. Lilacs bloom in May.

There's also the whole deal with Proctor and Elizabeth's marriage. Starting in Act II, Proctor is complaining and mad that Elizabeth is still distant with him, still removed. That would suggest that before she found out about the affair, she WASN'T distant and removed, because otherwise her being distant would be normal, not something she's punishing him with for seven months because he cheated.

So in Act II, the marriage goes like this:
Elizabeth had a baby, was sick afterwards, and presumably did not fulfill her wifely duties for awhile, leaving John vulnerable to Abigail.

When Elizabeth finds out, she kicks out Abigail and gives John the cold shoulder, for seven straight months, frustrating him and making him yell at her.
BUT, even though he's disappointed when he kisses her and she doesn't kiss him back, and things are tense, they are still having sex because she's pregnant when she's arrested. One wonders how the sex plays out. They don't talk? They don't look at each other? They don't kiss? How do you match up them having regular sex together with how they behave together in Act II?

In Act IV, Elizabeth tells John she's to blame for him going to Abigail because she was so insecure about herself she kept a cold house. If she's been cold the whole time they were married, why was John acting like she was only punishing him with coldness after the affair? Cause in Act II he's like, Hey, I'll kiss you, hey, on Saturday we'll walk in the flower fields! like there was a time their marriage was normal and he wants to go back. But in Act IV, she swoops in and says, "And hey, BTW audience I was frigid so it was never really his fault!" it's like she's saying she was cold in their entire marriage, so now John's complaints in Act II make no sense.

Then there's confusion about the affair with Abigail. Was it an affair or a one night stand? In court, John acts like it's a one night stand when he names the night it happened. Abigail talks about how he clutched her back behind the barn, which also sort of suggests a one off. Also, when one considers John is supposed to be basically a good man, a one night stand is forgiveable, but constantly running back to the barn with the maid isn't, so a lot points to one night. John even calls it "the single error of my life!" like it was a stallion and mare rutting once. But with Abigail he's like "I won't be coming for your more." as if he's been coming for her to sneak off in the past. And she says "You took me from my bed." as if he snuck into her room.

To me there is no deep meaning in this play. It's a spectacle. People are fascinated by the fatal attraction part, the hurt marriage part, and the noble drama at the end.

Also it's really weird that Abigail just disappears from the play after Act III.

I was in this play in school, and I remember we were all joking that Reverend Hale was the father of Elizabeth Proctor's baby.

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So, I did some more reading up on Arthur Miller. What one researcher said is Arthur Miller wanted to write an adultery play (not a McCarthy hearings play). In the Salem witch trials, he found the framework for his adultery play, by lowering John's age and raising Abigail's. BUT, he originally contemplated having John realize he really wants his wife dead, and that creates a crisis of guilt.

To me, the vestiges of a play where John Proctor wants his wife dead, and is in denial about it, are still in The Crucible, and make me not trust it. In the first place, Abigail, in Act I and in the Appendix (which was meant to come after Elizabeth's arrest), is given a soap box to rant about how cold and sniveling John's wife is, and how he's just doing his duty by her, but how he'll "Sing secret alleluias that his wife will hang." After Abigail sneers about how cold Elizabeth is in Act I, John tells Abigail not to speak against Elizabeth (he doesn't defend Elizabeth, just tells Abigail to shut it), and then later JOHN tells Elizabeth how cold she is.

So I think we see Miller's original idea still sneaking in there, which makes John not trustworthy. In the original play I bet we find that John subconsciously sought out Abigail because he could sense what she was and get rid of his wife via her, and when he realizes this, OY!

We have Miller using Abigail to drop "truth bombs" about John and Elizabeth, that John denies but are probably really true about how John feels in Miller's original intention.

The "I really want my wife dead" part was taken out, but the dialogue stayed in, and it makes John look shifty, IMO. He's one thing in Act I and denies it in Act II, and after he grandstands about saving his wife when she's arrested, something else happens. In a scene that is often dropped from the play, he goes to see Abigail at night under intimate circumstances. All that happens in the scene is a) she's crazy; b) she shows him wounds on her body (an excuse to show him her body); c) she talks about their amazing sex; d) and how he wants his wife dead. John hears the whole thing out til the end - she does all the talking, and then says "Whore!" and leaves. "Whore!" isn't a denial.

John is shifty in the play. I don't really trust him, even though the play changed. AND the play absolutely comes across like an adultery play that Miller drops after the beginning of Act III, and then he switches off then to the McCarthy hearing play.

The Appendix (to come after the wife is arrested) was commissioned by Lawrence Olivier, who ended up not using it because he said it destroyed the rhythm of the play. *I* think it exposed that Miller was really writing a play about a guy who wants his wife dead. He protects John by having Abigail say most of it, but John gives her plenty of room to say what she wants. Anyway, I think coming after his wife's arrest, that scene makes John look really bad, just the circumstances and how he's taking his time talking with her, and that's why it was cut.

In the movie, that scene becomes Daniel Day Miller riding in on a horse in broad daylight to confront a fully dressed Abigail, saying right away to Abigail - bitch, better knock it off or tomorrow I expose you as a fornicator. She makes a move, he knocks her to the ground and leaves. It's a 30 second scene. So I think the people making the movie saw what Miller thought he was hiding - that the original version of the scene gave the game away that John was conflicted about his wife's arrest. "Whore" isn't an answer. "Murderer!" isn't an answer. "I don't want my wife to hang, I love her, not you!" IS an answer and John never says it.

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Be careful who you sleep with? That's what I got out of it

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It's a parable against the McCarthy era, which may come as a handy lesson in the years to come.

It is also an indictment on the preying on those gullible to superstitions to settle scores that is emblematic of radical, uncontrolled faith. In this case, Christianity.

Another lesson to keep in mind in the times we are now living . . .

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