To the teen girls in ‘John Proctor is the Villain,’ #Me Too registers as ‘us too’
IBy Don Aucoin n recent years, the rise of female dramatists has brought us a wealth of incisive plays and TV series that take seriously the concerns of teenage girls, from Sarah DeLappe’s “The Wolves” to Jocelyn Bioh’s “School Girls; Or, the African Mean Girls Play” to Mindy Kaling’s “Never Have I Ever” to Clare Barron’s “Dance Nation.”
Kimberly Belflower’s “John Proctor is the Villain” belongs very high up on any such list.
Now at the Huntington in a vibrant production directed by Margot Bordelon, with first-rate performances across the board by Bordelon’s nine-member cast, “John Proctor is the Villain” is set in 2018 at a high school in rural Georgia, against the backdrop of the #MeToo movement.
It’s junior year, and the girls are coping with or hearing about local examples of the kind of sexual misconduct the #MeToo movement is spotlighting nationally. Issues of gender, power, and identity are anything but abstract to these girls. Neither, importantly, is the idea of friendship.
Their school and the surrounding community are so conservative that it’s seen as a provocative act when female students try to form a feminism club. “It’s just that some people feel like this will alienate the boys,” a guidance counselor (Olivia Hebert) tells them.
When a play is described as a comedy-drama, as so many are these days, it’s smart to be wary. For any playwright — and any cast — sustaining that balance is extremely tricky. One or the other usually has to give; when comedy and drama alternate, it can create a tonal dissonance that results in an unwieldy play.
Yet “John Proctor is the Villain” manages to be genuinely funny as well as deadly serious. Belflower’s skill is such that these contrasting elements — and the rapid-fire transitions in mood and emotional temperature they require — seem utterly organic as her play unfolds within the Wimberly Theatre, growing stronger scene by scene.
Two of the most powerful scenes are virtually wordless: one in which the girls let loose with protracted and intense primal screams, and one in which they engage in a dance that is defiant in its wild, joyous abandon.
That dancing is a nod to “The The vibrant production at the Huntington, with first-rate performances across the board, is set in 2018 at a high school in rural Georgia
Crucible,” Arthur Miller’s 1953 drama about the 17 th-century Salem witch trials, written as an allegory of McCarthy-era political persecution. It’s the subject of classroom discussion led by Carter Smith (Japhet Balaban), the kind of earnest teacher who is desperate for his students to find “relevance” in any work they’re studying.
It turns out that “The Crucible” is relevant in unexpected and disquieting ways; it’s a Pandora’s box from which all manner of ugly community secrets spill out.
When Carter proclaims that John Proctor is “one of the best characters ever,” the girls dispute him, pointing out that Proctor “put Elizabeth [his wife] through so much,” a reference to his affair with Abigail Williams. (Carter’s wife is pregnant, as was Elizabeth in “The Crucible.”)
A haze of question marks surrounds the girls. Is there any truth to the rumors that Ivy’s dad inappropriately touched a female employee? Why did Shelby suddenly vanish, only to return just as suddenly months later?
Raelynn broke up with her boyfriend Lee (Benjamin Izaak) after he cheated on her with Shelby, but why does Lee now think he has the right to control Raelynn, using his size and strength in the attempt? Why does Carter seem to identify so strongly with John Proctor?
It’s further proof of the playwright’s abilities that each of the nine characters in “John Proctor is the Villain” registers vividly, although Belflower’s principal focus is on five teenage girls: Ivy (Brianna Martinez), Beth (Jules Talbot), Raelynn (Haley Wong), Shelby (Isabel
Van Natta), and Nell (Victoria Omoregie, so good a year ago in SpeakEasy Stage Company’s “Fairview.”)
As they try to come to grips with it all, the dialogue among the girls, crucially, has the ring of verisimilitude. They speak to one another; they don’t make speeches. Belflower has obviously given a lot of thought to the specifics of these characters and how each would react to varying circumstances.
More broadly, it seems likely that their own circumstances, combined with the onslaught of #MeToo revelations in the wider world, have the girls wondering: Who are the good guys, and who are the predators?