Review: John Proctor is the Villain

How can a play be incredibly uplifting and deeply depressing all at the same time? Welcome to John Proctor Is The Villain, a transatlantic success story which arrives fully formed at the Royal Court Theatre.

It comes garlanded with American awards and a reputation that precedes it, yet what lands is not triumphalist but inquisitive, even combative. So writes Franco Milazzo for theQR.co.uk…

EDITOR’S NOTE (April 21, 2026): The show is transferring to the West End. John Proctor is the Villain will play a 12-week season at Wyndham’s Theatre from February 2 to April 24, 2027. Tickets go on sale April 21st (today) at 2:00 PM BST. Sign up for priority access at johnproctoristhevillain.com.

Set in a Georgia high school classroom in 2018 (the year when the Me Too movement took flight), Kimberly Belflower’s play follows a tight-knit group of teenage girls studying The Crucible by Arthur Miller. Shelby, newly returned and socially suspect, joins Raelynn, Beth and Ivy in a slow-burning revolt against received wisdom, especially when it comes to men and their motivations.

A classroom crucible: Dismantling the Miller mythos

The classroom becomes a crucible in its own right. “Why do we always forgive him?” one student asks of John Proctor, a line that lands like a gauntlet thrown not just at Miller but at centuries of literary lionisation. Another observes, “He’s the adult. She’s the child. That’s not romance, that’s power.” It is here that Belflower’s central thesis crystallises. Just as Miller refracted McCarthyism through Salem, Belflower refracts the Me Too movement through Miller, using The Crucible as both lens and lever. Yet the play’s real strength lies in its refusal to remain tethered to a single era. “It’s not about then,” another character insists. “It’s about now. It’s always about now.”

How can a play be incredibly uplifting and deeply depressing all at the same time? Welcome to John Proctor Is The Villain, a transatlantic success story which arrives fully formed at the Royal Court Theatre.

Threaded through it all is a pop-cultural spine with nods to Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo and Janelle Monáe. A section of Beyoncé’s “Flawless” is sewn into one scene: “We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller / We say to girls: ‘You can have ambition, but not too much / You should aim to be successful, but not too successful / Otherwise, you will threaten the man'”, while “Green Light” by Lorde is the lynchpin of another. They surface as emotional reference points, quietly interrogating the romantic narratives that have shaped these girls’ expectations. The effect is cumulative: a sense that culture, like curriculum, has been telling them the wrong stories.

Youthful immediacy: Danya Taymor’s dynamic direction

The direction from Danya Taymor—who won a Tony Award for her work on a musical version of The Outsiders—once again revels in youthful immediacy, finding a jagged rhythm that mirrors adolescent thought. In echoes of Miriam Battye’s The Virgins, scenes fracture, overlap and combust, perfectly evoking the teenage schooldays when libido and intellect constantly battle for supremacy.

The pacing is dynamic and, aided by some quick changes, we are effortlessly glided through weeks and months of these young lives. There are many sharp turns and twists, but each feels earned, and the impact of each reveal is dissected in a realistic manner. The play, though, sometimes strains to make its parallels explicit while underlining points that are already clear. Yet when it trusts its audience, it soars.

If there is a minor niggle, it is in the characterisations: the males are painted as either predator beasts who use their position or their physical strength to manipulate women into sex, or as sweet-but-dim muppets. Meanwhile, one accent constantly wanders far south of Savannah. But the central quartet is superb. Their delivery of lines such as “We’re not hysterical. We’re paying attention” crackles with urgency and truth.

From Me Too to the Great Retrenchment

That’s not the depressing part, by the way. What saddens most is the historical context. In 2018, the Me Too movement went beyond tabloid exposés to holding the men (and occasional women) accountable. The speed of Hollywood mega-producer Harvey Weinstein’s downfall signalled a shift. Silver screen favourite Kevin Spacey’s career collapse reinforced it. Organisations in both the US and UK introduced reforms, however unevenly, to address systemic abuses.

The momentum continued with the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020. In the US, immense marches were held that rivalled those of the Civil Rights era. Over here, the toppling of Edward Colston’s statue into Bristol harbour became an emblem of historical reckoning, while the England national football team’s decision to take the knee signalled solidarity on a global stage.

If there is a minor niggle, it is in the characterisations: the males are painted as either predator beasts who use their position or their physical strength to manipulate women into sex, or as sweet-but-dim muppets.

And yet, watching Belflower’s play now, one cannot ignore the sense that the pendulum has swung back with force. In 2022, the US Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, rolling back abortion rights that had stood for half a century. In 2024, the only man to be impeached not once but twice—and who proudly boasted of exactly where he could grab women—was returned to power, despite a civil jury finding him liable for sexual abuse and defamation the previous year. His administration’s dismantling of diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives, and the subsequent sidelining and firing of so-called DEI hires, speaks to a broader retrenchment.

Epstein, Power, and the Leap Backwards

And that was all before the existence of the Epstein files was initially point-blank denied by the US government before legal pressure led them to be released late and heavily redacted. In the UK, a pair of very high-profile heads have rolled. After the latest revelations, the King stripped Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor of his remaining titles and his home. Peter Mandelson was dismissed from his role as US ambassador after the files alleged that he was leaking state secrets to the disgraced financier. Both men have been arrested and released subject to further police investigations. In the US? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Niente.

Walking out from this play, there’s a sense that American history took two strong steps forward in 2018 and 2020 and since then a huge leap backwards. This play is not set at the dawn of a new hopeful era but at an epoch that promised much and delivered what can only be described as an ongoing epic disappointment.

In its best moments, John Proctor Is the Villain does what the Royal Court has always championed: it provokes, unsettles and demands that we reconsider the stories we thought we knew. If Belflower occasionally overstates her case, she does so with purpose. This is a play that demands interrogation, not passive consumption. Like The Crucible, it lingers, its questions echoing long after the classroom lights dim.

All Images: JPITV_Royal_Court (c) Camilla Greenwell