In any attempt to examine conscientiously the intricate perversions of self-deception, a writer of drama risks creating a vehicle so heavy that despite its real values of depth it is incapable of delivering its potential impact. To a certain extent, this is the error into which Lyon Phelps has fallen in his play The Gospel Witch. Even with cuts the production is too long, and in spite of the general excellence of the cast and the immediacy of a theatre-in-the-round presentation, the audience becomes almost numb during the last third of the play under an accumulated burden of moral complexity and hysteria.

This is not to say that The Gospel Witch is monotonous, but that it demands too much both of audience and actors. Set in the Salem of 1692, its theme is the release of the tensions of an introverted Puritanism in the creation and destruction of an unreal danger. Specifically, it deals with a young girl's accusations of witchcraft against a strong minded farmer's wife, and the implications of the case for the community and the individuals involved. The subject is temptingly rich, and Mr. Phelps has not been able to resist over-entanglement in the moral coils of the situation. The result is that although the play says much and says it well, it is only moderately effective as a piece of theatre.

As the accused woman, Edith Owen treats a difficult part with the reserve and the assurance of a woman who holds faith and dignity in spite of a hysterical persecution. The evenness of her performance lends the figure of Martha Corey a solidarity which is in purposeful contrast to the vacillation of her neighbors and her husband. Giles Corey is a man as strong in his beliefs as his wife, but slower in understanding. William Hunt portrays him with great sympathy as a strong man who realizes his wife's innocence too late, and becomes a victim of the young girl's witch persecution himself.

Without a fine performance in the role of the girl, Ann Putnam, the atmosphere of the witch trials would be difficult to understand. But Abigail Lewis plays the part of the accuser with a shocking mixture of malice and unbalance that makes the contagion of her hysteria easily believable. The passion of her seizures punctuates the sober dialogues of her elders and the dignity of courtroom procedure with the note of tension that lies beneath the whole action of the play. As her bewildered father, Layton Zimmer gives the weakest of the major performances, and fails adequately to show the importance of his growing awareness toward the close of the play. Supporting performances of note include those of John Hezlitt, Whitney Haley as the magistrate, Joseph Mitchell as the man from Boston, and Jack Rogers and Ed Finnegan in unusually credible comic portrayals.

Although it is often a great asset in conveying this painful confusion and the emotional entanglements of the characters to the audience, the theatre-in-the-round format is a mixed blessing. It is superbly adapted to the examination in which the audience finds itself inside the Salem meeting house; but the last scene is considerably marred by lack of the finality that a drawn curtain could rectify, and set changes are unduly disturbing throughout.

The technical quality of the production, however, is not an important factor in judging the worth of The Gospel Witch. The play, although fatiguing, is undeniably interesting; Mr. Phelps' verse and the thoughtful interpretations of the cast go far toward revealing the workings of a community gripped by irrational panic and its slow growth toward understanding. The effort which has gone into the production has been ably directed to bring out the merit of the play as it stands. An attentive audience will find it in many ways engrossing and revealing.