KCRep’s John Proctor is the Villain is a damning ‘Me Too’ clapback against The Crucible

Photo by Don Ipock

John Proctor is the Villain runs through Oct. 26 and tickets are available here. 

Kimberly Belflower’s John Proctor is the Villain, a ‘Me Too’-era response to Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, is currently the most produced play in the U.S., with productions popping up across the country following the show’s successful run on Broadway last year. It’s easy to see why.

The themes of the play cover everything from how we interpret the canon of Great Works (does Lorde get to be in it? Does Taylor Swift?) to the constant threats facing young women (made sadly relevant once again by the events at Cornell University) to how those same young women figure out what true solidarity looks like. It’s a beautiful, funny, heartbreaking, and perpetually timely story.

KCRep’s production of John Proctor is the Villain is a fantastic staging of Belflower’s play that stays true to its themes and characters while making distinct choices that amplify specific elements. It’s a production that feels loyal to its source and personal to the people making it.

The play is set in a one-stoplight town in Georgia (the news that they might get another stoplight is cause for celebration). The students in Helen County High’s junior honors English class study The Crucible under their charismatic teacher, Mr. Smith (Shane Kenyon). At the same time, a handful of Smith’s students—overachieving Beth (Jo Pellow), her best friends Ivy (Lilly Gerend) and Raelynn (Avery Moss), and new girl Nell (Amari Lewis)—are trying to start an extracurricular feminism club.

Photo by Don Ipock

Hanging over all of this is the absence of classmate Shelby (Mizha Lee Overn), who abruptly left town following a breakdown that culminated in Shelby hooking up with Raelynn’s boyfriend Lee (Sam Moore). Shelby’s sudden reappearance and reaction to class discussions of The Crucible lead to shocking revelations that, alongside other events in town, echo Miller’s play.

The cast, especially the actors playing the girls, are excellent. Special commendation goes to Lewis’ sweetly energetic portrayal of Nell and Moss’ Raelynn, who undergoes the most growth over the course of the play. Pellow’s Beth is also delightful, carrying over many of Fina Strazza’s best choices from the Broadway production, with a little more twang added.

Speaking of Broadway, KCRep’s staging, directed by Laura Alcalá Baker, has several technical elements that easily match (and in some cases outdo) that immensely successful run. Eleanor Kahn’s scenic design is a marvel that makes great use of the Copaken Stage’s space, particularly in the play’s one scene set outside of Mr. Smith’s classroom, a switch-up other productions haven’t always handled so smoothly.

Photo by Don Ipock

Khan’s set also adds elements that tie Belflower’s play more directly to Miller’s, including a forest of 20 trees (one for each person killed in the Salem Witch Trials) surrounding Mr. Smith’s classroom. These are a constant reminder of the wild space The Crucible’s Abigail Williams and her friends claim as theirs, and they become a moving focal point during the play’s climactic final scene, a moment Ethan Korvine’s sound design also expertly teases throughout.

Baker’s direction and blocking also make subtle changes that refocus some elements of Beth’s arc (it’s hard to say more without invoking spoilers). Viewers’ mileage may vary, but changing part of the play’s emphasis on what kind of woman Beth wants to become to pointing out the risks she unknowingly faces somewhat weakens John Proctor is the Villain’s powerful conclusion.

This is a small criticism, however. Ultimately, KCRep’s production of Belflower’s play is a fantastic example of how artistic vision can influence an existing text. This staging is full of interesting, smart choices that adapt to the performance space and direct the audience’s attention to important themes in both the play and Miller’s work. It will likely leave you eager to continue the conversation after the curtain comes down (after you wipe away a few tears).