Review: Witch by Hyde Park Theatre
by Michael Meigs

First of all, though Jenn Silverman based Witch on the typically hair-raising 1633 Jacobean play The Witch of Edmonton, a gory and almost hot-off-the-presses tabloid stage account of real murders and a burning at the stake, do NOT be scared of her rendition. Silverman cheerfully ransacks that work and walks away with a setting, some names, and the eternally familiar trope of the Devil coming to town in search of souls. Indeed, hers is a cleverly plotted parable set in an essentially feudal rural village long ago, but it otherwise has little to do with the blood-and-thunder version by Ford, Dekker, and Rowley. 

 

An instantly comic effect is that these characters all talk twentieth-century American English. That  brings right up to the present moment the sell-your-soul plotline so familiar in literature (e.g., Chris Marlowe's The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus and Goethe's Faust; or if your taste is more contemporary, how about Damn Yankees and Rosemary's Baby?). One theme is temptation; how much yearning would motivate you to give up your immortal soul, asuming you had one?

 

Katherine Catmull embodies Elizabeth, the title character, feared, scorned and despised by everyone. Why? She'll tell you in the course of the play but well after describing the whispers, glares, and rumors. Angry, isolated, alone, and trapped in the claustrophobic world of the tiny village, Elizabeth's not a witch at all. She's an ageing woman who's ready to see that whole world incinerated. It would have been easy to make this role a caricature, a crone recalling, say, the scheming witch in Disney's Snow White, but Catmull is no crone. Victimized by the small society surrounding her, her Elizabeth is clear-eyed, eloquent, and independent. 

 

Scratch, the good-looking ingratiating stranger played by Chase Brewer, is a smooth operator. He's at ease in the tavern, a sympathetic ear to the complaints and grievances of those he meets. He charms them and opens their imaginations. "What would you really like to have? What's that worth to you? I can make it happen . . ." 

 

 

Playwright Silverman crafts a meticulously joined plot involving three male characters and one other much younger woman. Rupert Reyes is Sir Arthur, lord of the manor, unquestioning owner of everything and everyone. Reyes, one of the gentlest and kindest actors in Austin, shows us a rural aristocrat unaware of his privileges, a widower devoted to the memory of his talented assertive wife and worried that his son Cuddy (Steve Guntli) is far more interested in Morris dancing than in producing an heir. Sir Arthur rescued Frank Thorney (John Edward Cook) from a life of horrendous hunger and deprivation, probably on a whim. Frank, about the same age as Cuddy, has lived in the castle for five years. He's convinced he is destined to have greatness thrust upon him, and he is driven by his ambition for wealth, ease, and safety.

 

And then there's Winnifred, serving girl at the castle, coincidentally (or not) for most of the past five years. Largely ignored when Sir Arthur and Cuddy are around, Winnifred (Amara "Mars" Johnson) has anxious eyes only for Frank. And with good reason.

 

The mechanics of the plot work out smoothly, enmeshing all of these characters and arousing our sympathies for all, except perhaps for the nakedly ambitious Frank. The playwright serves up some sparkling surprises. Handsome young Scratch turns out not to be Satan at all; though he's been at work for centuries and has the power to present himself in a pleasing shape, he's more akin to the Rolling Stones' Under Assistant West Coast Promotion Man . . . just another working stiff, tempted so ask for a different gig and maybe some time off to think. Wishes granted by Scratch of course turn out to be poisoned; the fun is finding out just how everything goes wrong. Winnifred and Elizabeth the non-witch turn out to have much in common. And there's a rousing, lengthy combat late in the action that'll bring you to the edge of your seat (choreography both of dance and of fight by Lisa del Rosario). And Elizabeth probably earns her fundamental, unvoiced wish. Without having to surrender her soul.

 

This ninety-minute intermissionless work takes place on Mark Pickell's impressively dim, simply looming set, where high beneath the center-stage rafters, the enigmatic portrait of Sir Arthur's vanished wife is flanked by flickering candles. Which witch is/was which?

 

The women know; the men don't understand. Witch teases and amuses. And teaches.

 

 

EXTRA

Click to view the Hyde Park Theatre program for Witch by Jen Silverman

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Witch
by Jen Silverman
Hyde Park Theatre

Opens February 19 - March 21, 2026

Hyde Park Theatre, 511 W. 43rd St at Guadalupe, Austin