I was fortunate to grab one of the remaining tickets for the closing night performance of Witch, at Hyde Park Theatre, a bewitchingly witty play directed superbly by Ken Webster and written by the astutely social interpreter and playwright Jen Silverman.
Witch pierced me in ways that touched the core essence of the themes I write about as an author: identity, geography, culture, and how being an outsider influences our global and local perceptions of self, others, and life.
The comic intertwining of Silverman’s retelling of the Jacobean play The Witch of Edmonton infused modern language and slang against a Gothic stage set replete with costumes of the era. At first, I thought something is wrong here, using filler words such as like (way too often) and gestures that referenced open queerness, but quickly caught on to the comedic intention.
The premise of the original was co‑written by William Rowley, Thomas Dekker, and John Ford in 1621. That earlier work was based on the real‑life case of Elizabeth Sawyer, a woman accused and executed for witchcraft, challenged the superstitions and social dynamics of its time. Silverman’s take keeps that spirit, and hundreds of years later, her version hauntingly reminds us that villagers scorned a woman, accused her of witchcraft (different and suspicious), and the devil tempted her to sell her soul. Katherine Catmull plays Elizabeth (the woman accused of witchcraft). Chase Brewer played Scratch (a charming devil who comes to town to seduce everyone). His pitch, which he uses as the consummate salesperson who buys souls, infuses the uninitiated with a “reckless sense of consequence.”
The plot’s delicious convolution is a highlight. Rupert Reyes plays Sir Arthur, king of his castle, widower, and father of Cuddy. His son is not man enough — a modern day Morris dancer played by Steve Guntli who is jealous and also secretly in love with his foe, Frank performed by Jon Edward Cook. Frank, a poor boy who wins the favor and attention of Sir Arthur needles his way into the upper echelon of society by winning favor while secretly being married to the pregnant maid Winnifred played by Amara (Mars) Johnson. Frank’s arrogance and entitlement are loud, “Some are born under a lucky star, and that was me,” he pronounces to Cuddy, while he attempts to steal his father’s attention away from Frank by proposing marriage to Winnifred. Alas, she doesn’t.
Cuddy makes a deal with the devil to murder or see murdered Frank, and in a duel which starts out as a dare, strangles him. But the line “I want to be so close I want to wear him” bears his emotions raw. Frank’s deal with the devil doesn’t materialize, to marry into the royal family and live in the castle, since he’s dead.
Winnifred’s wish with the devil is to live simply with her child far away from drama and to remain poor. Elizabeth witnesses this exchange and genuinely puzzles over it. Selling your soul presupposes desire — envy, a hunger for what feels just out of reach. Winnifred’s wish is so small. Elizabeth tells her to reach higher. It is a thoroughly modern scene: a pep talk across the centuries, from a woman who has lost everything the village values to a younger, more inexperienced and insecure woman who has not yet learned to want enough for herself.
But Elizabeth, while she flirts with Scratch, never quite sells her soul, and that is the key to Silverman’s interpretation. Rising above the gossip and the treachery of society is a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need to be spoken to like one.
Themes of judgement, group versus individual in a moral context, and the choices one makes run through the play like children in a playground playing catch. Until their own making catches them one by one, or not.
Hyde Park Theatre is located at 511 West 43rd Street, Austin 78751. 512.479.7529. There is street parking available. For tickets and future performance information contact https://www.hydeparktheatre.org
L: Chase Brewer as Scratch R: Katherine Catmull as Elizabeth Photo credit: Hyde Park Theatre