'John Proctor is the Villain' review — this exhilarating, heartfelt, wildly cathartic feminist drama feels like a revolution

Read our review of Kimberly Belflower's play John Proctor is the Villain, now in performances at the Royal Court to 25 April.

Summary

• Broadway hit John Proctor is the Villain has its UK premiere at the Royal Court
• Kimberly Bellflower's play features high school students reading Arthur Miller's The Crucible
• The play is set in 2018 at the height of the #MeToo movement
• Danya Taymor's exceptional cast includes Donal Finn and Sadie Soverall

Broadway’s most heartening recent hit, which not only centred an all-too-rare authentic teen girl perspective, but also drew in hordes of exhilarated young theatregoers, looks set to be just as ecstatically embraced here. John Proctor is the Villain has completely sold out its Royal Court run, but if there is any justice, it will soon bring its whip-smart, potent, gloriously funny and remarkably affecting drama to the West End.

As the title suggests, Kimberly Belflower’s play is in heated conversation with Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. It’s the set text for a group of high school students in a one-stoplight town in rural Georgia, but events in their own lives – including some properly gasp-worthy reveals – lead them to re-examine the play’s power dynamics. The story is set in 2018, in the thick of the #MeToo movement and its growing backlash, exemplified by the loaded, and Crucible-adjacent, term “witch hunt”.

Zealous overachiever Beth wants to start a feminism club, inspired by new student Nell, who has transferred from Atlanta (giving her immediate cachet). But the school authorities are nervous, aware of local tensions following various scandals. The club is saved by Mr. Smith, an educator so charming, considerate and dazzling that Nell rightly pegs him as being like a teacher “from an inspirational movie”.

The club’s consciousness-raising aims soon shift from academic to deeply personal. Preacher’s daughter Raelynn begins to recognise her long-term boyfriend Lee’s controlling, violent behaviour as toxic, and wonders who she might be without him. She also reckons with the explosive return to school of her former best friend, Shelby, who has been branded a slut after sleeping with Lee. Meanwhile Ivy becomes defensive when her father is accused of sexual harassment.

Belflower beautifully captures the way that adolescent girls (and especially those in a small, insular, religious community) are simultaneously knowing and innocent, playing out fantasies of adulthood but still, heartbreakingly, just children. In moments of stress, they cuddle a stuffed toy (the effectively naturalistic design is by AMP featuring Teresa Williams). That dichotomy is expressed in her spot-on dialogue too: partly erudite, partly halting as they awkwardly fumble their way towards realisation.

Dónal Finn, recently a heartthrob in Hadestown, is clever casting as the seemingly perfect Mr. Smith, and the youngsters in Danya Taymor’s magnificent cast truly feel like lifelong friends, lending gorgeous heft to their intricate, intimate relationships. Holly Howden Gilchrist is a fervent, endearing Beth, Miya James sensitively traces Raelynn’s awakening, Lauryn Ajufo is a wryly astute Nell, and Reece Braddock is adorable as dopey but well-meaning Mason. Most impressive is Sadie Soverall (succeeding Broadway star Sadie Sink, now in London's Romeo & Juliet) as powder keg Shelby, combining pain, rage, trauma, vulnerability, and an eccentric goofiness, along with a determination to fight back.

Belflower’s script can be overly didactic, but her messaging is blazingly important: how girls are taught to make themselves smaller, so as not to threaten or inconvenience men in a patriarchal society by being “difficult” or “a lot”, to instead be pleasant, accommodating, and above all silent. That’s why art is so crucial (and the play notes the terrible cutbacks in arts education), to help us make sense of our experience, to question authority and established narratives, and to give us an expressive outlet.

It all culminates in the most extraordinary, heart-pounding, viscerally cathartic climax I’ve ever experienced, brilliantly utilising Lorde’s song “Green Light” along with an interpretive dance that moves from kooky to joyful to a full-on rebellion. This play likewise makes me want to scream, laugh, cry, and dance. It’s not just a drama: it’s a revolution.

John Proctor is the Villain is at the Royal Court to 25 April. Book John Proctor is the Villain tickets on LondonTheatre.co.uk

Photo credit: John Proctor is the Villain (Photos by Camilla Greenwell)