As the film progresses, Abigail's identification with the fictional "Abigail" takes the place of her limping identification with Laura Wingfield. Gone are the plaid skirts and white blouses. She shows up for school in prim black dresses with white collars, and a huge cross necklace. But then, growing in confidence, her skirts get shorter, her heels get higher. Abigail, the temptress in The Crucible, asserts her dominance on the imagination of this damaged teenager. Celeste Montalvo designed the costumes, and her excellent work is a huge contribution to the film. Abigail's transformation has an effect on the other girls, whose own wardrobes get more outrageous to compete with hers.
Messina has a difficult role to play here. Jeremy is an immature, passive man, and touched by Abigail's intensity as an actress. His girlfriend thinks he's a loser and Abigail looks at him with devotion. It's a combination he finds irresistible. Messina does not play Jeremy as a predator, although the character's actions clearly cross all kinds of lines. If John Proctor found his Abigail more than he could handle, so too does Jeremy find his. It's a very good performance.
There are multiple scenes in the auditorium, and cinematographer Aaron Kovalchik films the space as though it is an echoing chamber where time stands still, where people get to inhabit their dreams of themselves. Abigail stands onstage staring into the darkness, bathed in blood-red light. Abigail and Jeremy run lines, their heads haloed with light against the black. There are other beautiful sequences like Melissa and Sophie swimming on a rainy night, splashing around like the kids they still are; the grim-faced Melissa leading the cheerleading squad in a routine, shown in ominous slo-mo; the deep blue shadows in the car where Jeremy and Abigail sit and talk.
This is not the kind of film where people pushing 30 wear cheerleaders' outfits and pretend to be 18. These young actresses feel like real teenagers. The power plays and alliance shifts evoke the destabilized atmosphere of adolescent girls. They're 16, and they shut each other down by calling each other "slut," "bitch," and worse. "Blame" surges with insight about the sexuality of teenage girls: before they can even figure out what they like, they feel obligated to put on a show of it for the boys. They are thrown into competition with each other. It's all performative. They don't even know they can opt out. Only Ellie seems to understand she gets to make her own rules.
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