Review: John Proctor Is the Villain Is a Broadway Stunner

Nobody knows the exact cause of the Salem witch trials, so artists and historians have spent hundreds of years projecting the concerns of their current times onto it. Arthur Miller’s The Crucible is certainly more about the McCarthy trials of 1950s than actual Salem. So, it follows that the Salem witch trials, as well as The Crucible, are due for a #metoo update. Luckily for audiences, playwright Kimberly Belflower goes in a more interesting direction with her play John Proctor Is the Villain at the Booth Theatre, crafting a funny, affecting evening on Broadway.

It’s 2018, and the reverberations of #metoo have hit the “one stoplight” Georgia town where the girls of John Proctor is the Villain live. Because of this, and the feminism 101 teachings of Taylor Swift, Lizzo, and Lorde, Beth (Fina Strazza) wants to start a feminism club at her high school. She needs a teacher to sponsor the group, and when their guidance counselor (Molly Griggs) is hesitant because of the waves it might cause in the community, “cool teacher” Mr. Smith (a standout performance by Gabriel Ebert) jumps in. Raelynn (Amalia Yoo) and Ivy (Maggie Kuntz) are on board, and new girl Nell (Morgan Scott) is poised to make even more of a progressive stir – she’s from Atlanta, after all.

But the person who really shakes things up is Shelby (Sadie Sink). Mysteriously absent for three months, Shelby’s return upsets the equilibrium. She’s a touch more radicalized than the others, played by Sink with intriguing, barely contained manic energy. Though she wants to prove she can handle school again, she’s also ready to burn down the patriarchy… by way of The Crucible. It’s a play Mr. Smith loves for its noble protagonist, John Proctor. But Shelby argues he’s an awful guy, spurring an argument that propels the rest of the play.

Belflower’s script is smart, incisive, and layered, drawing parallels to The Crucible both stated and implied. To argue why John Proctor is a villain, she avoids getting tied up in questions of consent, which unfortunately would not have mattered much in the 1600s, and instead has the girls “keep it to the text” – something they learned from their teacher. She brings a refreshing broader perspective to the narrative too. There’s safety to the version of patriarchy these girls live in, and Belflower explores what happens when trust in that safety is broken.

Every character is multi-dimensional, accurately representing young people who have not fully formed and, crucially, aren’t caricatures. Beth is practically an expert on Gen Z feminist theory, until the conversation turns to sex positivity. When challenged about her stance on abstinence, she says, “In my head it’s also kind of a Christian feminist club.” And while the girls are the focus here, the boys are equally drawn. Both Lee (Hagan Oliveras) and Mason (Nihar Duvvuri) spend a good deal of the play offending everyone with their off-handed remarks, but only one has the potential to grow.

The strength of the writing makes the problems with the pacing in Danya Taymor’s production frustrating. Even though there’s a natural act break, an incredibly climatic scene that ends in a blackout, the play is a one act, with dialogue that moves too fast. The cast zips through their lines like an even more caffeinated version of Gilmore Girls, giving no time for anyone to take a breath and react to one another.

The pace is intentional (it’s in the script), but it’s a baffling choice. It comes across like Belflower and Taymor are worried about losing the attention of the Gen Z crowd, or don’t trust the actors to play those beats (they all seemed capable to me). Aside from the first scene that includes a perfunctory but necessary summary of The Crucible, the show doesn’t drag. There should be enough time to let the emotional moments land instead of flying through them.

Brief interstitials between scenes highlighting individual characters, with scenography by AMP featuring Teresa L. Williams, look very cool but don’t add much to the plot or emotion. Costume design by Sarah Laux is nicely nuanced, hinting at personality without typecasting the girls. Natasha Katz’s depiction of natural lighting was on point.

The second half culminates in an intense catharsis for the girls and the audience. It’s meaningful, silly, powerful, extremely high school, and worth the price of admission. Sink shines in using her physicality here. With more room for her and the other actors to play and relax, there’s potential for this production to be even better. But despite its shortcomings, it’s a stunner.