
If you join us here on JHPEntertainment.com with any regularity, you likely know, after two decades of covering area theatre and a lifetime of loving it, I truly enjoy getting the opportunity to see something new. Having debuted on Broadway just last year, playwright Kimberly Belflower’s John Proctor is the Villain fits the bill. For its Tennessee premiere—on stage at TPAC’s Johnson Theatre thru October 18— Nashville Repertory Theatre wisely places Lauren Shouse at the helm. Shouse’s beautifully staged production of the acclaimed play proves that sometimes the most important thing young people can do is question the stories they’ve been told.
If the name in the title seems familiar, there’s good reason. He’s the perceived tragic hero of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. There is something wonderfully audacious about taking one of the most frequently assigned American plays in the high-school curriculum and essentially telling an audience, Wait a minute…what if we’ve been looking at this all wrong? That is precisely what playwright Kimberly Belflower does with John Proctor Is the Villain, and Nashville Repertory Theatre’s new production embraces that challenge with intelligence, humor and a remarkable amount of heart.
Rather than attempting to retell Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, Belflower uses it as a jumping-off point for a much larger conversation about the stories we inherit, the people we label heroes and villains, and what happens when a younger generation starts asking questions that previous generations may have been too comfortable not asking. And in the hands of this terrific company, those questions become anything but academic.
Taking place in 2018 and set inside a rural Appalachian Georgia high-school classroom in a one-stoplight town (they’re getting another one), John Proctor Is the Villain follows a group of teenagers whose discussions of Miller’s classic begin to collide with their own increasingly complicated understanding of feminism, relationships, power, reputation, consent (yes, it takes place right smack in the middle of the #MeToo movement) and what it means to actually listen to someone else’s experience. It is indeed serious subject matter.
Fortunately, Belflower knows that teenagers don’t spend their lives speaking in serious declarations about serious subjects. They joke.They gossip. They interrupt each other. They misunderstand each other. They fall in and out of alliances. They say something hilariously inappropriate at exactly the wrong moment. And sometimes, almost accidentally, they say something extraordinarily profound. That balance between humor and emotional weight is one of the greatest strengths of Belflower’s writing—and Shouse’s production understands it beautifully. One can only assume Shouse’s “day job” as an Associate Professor of Theatre Directing at nearby MTSU might have aided her direction.
There is a natural rhythm to this staging that allows the comedy to land without ever diminishing the more difficult material. Just when you think you’re settling comfortably into a funny classroom exchange, the conversation shifts and suddenly you’re thinking about what you’ve just heard. Simply put, that is good theater. And John Proctor Is the Villain is very good theater. Shouse proves particularly adept at working with this predominantly young ensemble. There is no sense that she is directing young actors to act like teenagers. Instead, she gives them the freedom to create recognizable young people with individual personalities, insecurities, contradictions and senses of humor. The result is an ensemble that feels genuinely connected.
Norah Younger’s Shelby Holcomb might not be in the opening scene, but once onstage, immediately commands attention. Younger gives Shelby an appealing intelligence and quickness, but wisely show restraint and uncertainty. There is something more complicated happening underneath Shelby’s rapid-fire observations, and Younger gradually reveals those layers with an impressive combination of confidence and vulnerability.
Advika Ravishankar’s Raelynn Nix is equally compelling. Ravishankar finds the humanity in a character who has spent much of her young life navigating expectations—expectations about who she should be, how she should behave and what her relationships should look like. Watching those assumptions begin to crack is one of the production’s more affecting journeys, and Ravishankar handles that evolution with considerable sensitivity. One of my personal favorite Raelynn moments comes early on in the play when she fires off a rapid succession monologue of exposition to catch up Nell, the newest student, she ends the fast-paced info dump with “and that’s what you missed on Glee”—taking a cue from the intro phrase from the iconic teen-driven TV series that always started each episode.
Aubrey Bagley’s Beth Powell is perfection as the eager to please brainiac of the group who strives for acceptance. She’s the every-girl we all knew and were friends with in high school. Brityn Ramsey’s Nell Shaw, the newest addition to the classroom, having relocated from the more metropolitan Atlanta area, is the cool girl who isn’t afraid to follow whatever is said with an oh-so-biting retort or a not-so-subtle eye roll. Ella Saliba’s Ivy Watkins, who finds herself at the center of one of the many subplots offers up a quieter, unassuming version of the typical well-to-do school girl who could easily be stereotyped as a mean girl, but absolutely isn’t.

At no point do these actors seem like they’re standing around waiting for their next line. They are listening, reacting, judging, supporting, teasing and occasionally steamrolling over one another in ways that make the classroom feel genuinely inhabited. There is a terrific sense of rhythm to the dialogue as presented by the playwright and as brought to life among the performers.
And then there are the adults of the piece Lucas Calhoun as Mr. Carter Smith and McKenna Steel as Ms Bailey. Lucas Calhoun’s Carter Smith, who finds just the right balance in the production’s adult male presence. As the English teacher and faculty advisor to the girls’ newly formed feminism club, Carter occupies an interesting position within the story. Calhoun doesn’t make him a conveniently enlightened adult who always knows exactly what to say. Instead, there is a humanity to his performance that allows Carter to listen, learn and occasionally realize that the most useful thing he can do is get out of the way. That makes Calhoun’s performance considerably more interesting—and considerably more believable. Calhoun’s Mr. Smith is the teacher we all remember from high school. Just a little older than the students, good looking, interested, but not hovering…again reference Glee, think Matthew Morrison as Mr. Will Schuester. McKenna Steel’s Ms Bailey Gallagher, the schools guidance counselor who many of the girls know from when she was a student herself, brings a welcome grounding presence. The girls relate to Steel’s Ms Bailey because she sees herself in them and they in her. When one of the girls unexpected blows up at Ms Bailey, it’s a tense moment that quickly quiets because of the familiarity of their shared experiences as women in a small rural community.
Rounding out the cast and reppin’ the boys, Lorenzo Rivera’s Mason Adams and Brent Bentley’s Lee Turner provide some of the production’s lighter moments without ever allowing their characters to become broad caricatures. In the hands of less skilled young actors, both roles could easily be stereotypes…Mason the jokester, Lee the cocksure jock, but as played by Rivera and Bentley, they reveal layers of uncertainty, self-doubt and eventual understanding, not only of themselves but of their female counterparts. Don’t get it twisted though, this play is about the young women. That said, it is an impressive company from top to bottom.
The chemistry among Younger, Ravishankar and their fellow cast members is one of the production’s greatest assets. There’s never a moment in the action that the audience has to be convinced that we’re not privy to a group of high school girls expanding upon the drama that is being a teenager in the modern era.
These characters have to feel like people who have known one another for years. They need to possess the casual shorthand of friendship—the glances, interruptions, private jokes and tiny frustrations that tell us there is a history between them even when the script isn’t explicitly telling us about it.
A lot of the success also comes from the physical world they’ve been given to inhabit. Scenic Designer Gary C. Hoff creates a classroom that feels immediately recognizable without becoming overly fussy or distracting. It is an environment that feels lived in, and because the entire play unfolds within this world, that authenticity becomes an important part of the storytelling. I frequently say I could live on one of Hoff’s sets and while I have no desire to return to the classroom, Hoff’s classroom is warm, inviting, and memory-unlocking. Minute details like an authentic intercom speaker box we all remember those morning announcement booming from, portraits of literary greats Wilde, Poe, Austen and the like lining the wall above the chalkboard all come together seamlessly to create a believable environment. Oh, and those fall leaves among the smooth rocks lining the path just outside the non-existent school wall nearest the front-facing audience. Nice touch!
The Johnson Theater’s intimacy works especially well here. Rather than placing the audience at a comfortable distance from the action, the space makes us feel almost like another group of observers inside the classroom. We’re close enough to catch the reactions, the shifts in body language and the moments when someone realizes that a conversation has suddenly become much more personal than expected. That closeness is invaluable.
Lighting Designer Amber Whatley complements the staging with a design that subtly tracks the emotional shifts without calling attention to itself. The lighting becomes increasingly expressive as the world of the characters begins to change, helping Shouse transition between the playful, familiar atmosphere of a classroom and the more emotionally charged territory the play eventually explores. Without giving too much away, that Lorde-enhancing pivotal “Green Light” sequence…cinematic indeed!
Melissa K. Durmon’s Costume, Hair & Makeup Design is equally effective. The characters look like contemporary teenagers rather than actors dressed to announce that they’re playing contemporary teenagers. Each individual has a distinct personality reflected in their appearance, while the ensemble still feels like a believable collection of students from the same community. From Mr. Carter’s teacheresque khaki pants to Mason’s plethora of sarcastically phrased t-shirts the wardrobe details do not go unnoticed.
That authenticity extends to the smallest details. And those details matter. From Lee’s fidget spinner to Beth’s stress stuffy. From the way Beth carefully places her books and binders in a mannerly fashion to Raelynn casually tossing her backpack on the floor. Each movement, carefully curated to reveal more about these characters.
Because Belflower’s play is ultimately about authenticity. It’s about the difference between the story we’ve been handed and the story we experience ourselves. It’s about the danger of accepting a narrative simply because it has become familiar. It’s about the uncomfortable realization that the people we have been taught to admire may not always deserve our admiration—and that people we’ve been taught to dismiss may have considerably more to say than we ever bothered to hear.
That is a particularly potent idea to place in the hands of young characters. And Belflower never underestimates them. That’s perhaps what makes John Proctor Is the Villain so refreshing. The adults aren’t automatically right. The teenagers aren’t automatically right, either. Nobody gets to walk away with the moral high ground simply because they have the best argument in the room. Instead, the play asks everyone—including the audience—to listen.
Belflower’s writing is smart enough to leave room for disagreement, while Shouse’s direction keeps that disagreement rooted in character rather than turning the production into a lecture. And that’s an important distinction. This isn’t a play telling an audience what to think. It’s a play encouraging an audience to think. By the time the production reaches its most emotionally resonant moments, the title John Proctor Is the Villain has become more than a provocative punchline. It has become a question about the very nature of heroes and villains—and about how easily those labels can be assigned when we only hear one version of a story. That is where Nashville Rep’s production really hits its stride. What begins as a clever reexamination of The Crucible gradually becomes something much more personal. Because eventually, the question isn’t really about John Proctor. It’s about us. What stories have we accepted without questioning? Whose version did we automatically believe? Who taught us what a hero was supposed to look like? And what happens when someone finally has the courage to say, Maybe that’s not the whole story.
Nashville Repertory Theatre has assembled a production that understands the power of those questions without becoming weighed down by them. Shouse keeps the pace energetic, the young cast keeps the world vibrant and Belflower’s script provides plenty of humor along the way. That combination makes John Proctor Is the Villain not only an important piece of contemporary theater, but an entertaining one. And perhaps that’s the biggest surprise. You come expecting a play about The Crucible. You leave thinking about the stories you’ve been carrying around your entire life. That’s the kind of theatrical alchemy Nashville Rep does exceptionally well.
With Lauren Shouse’s assured direction, Kimberly Belflower’s incisive script, Gary C. Hoff’s authentic scenic design, Amber Whatley’s evocative lighting, Melissa K. Durmon’s finely detailed costumes, hair and makeup, and an exceptionally committed ensemble led by Norah Younger, Advika Ravishankar and Lucas Calhoun, Nashville Repertory Theatre’s John Proctor Is the Villain is a production that earns both its laughs and its more difficult conversations. It doesn’t ask audiences to forget The Crucible. It asks us to look at it again. And perhaps more importantly, it reminds us that sometimes the most important lesson in the classroom is learning that you don’t have to accept the lesson exactly as it was given to you. Smart, funny, provocative and deeply human—Nashville Rep’s John Proctor Is the Villain is contemporary theater at its most engaging, giving a talented young ensemble a story that trusts them to question everything, including the stories we thought we already knew.
Nashville Repertory Theatre‘s John Proctor is the Villain continues at TPAC’s Johnson Theatre (505 Deaderick Street, Nashville, TN 37243) with performances weekends through Sunday, October 18. Thursday thru Saturday evening performances are at 7:30pm. Saturday and Sunday matinees begin at 2pm. Tickets range in price from $45.53-$89.23 (including fees). CLICK HERE to purchase tickets.
Following John Proctor is the Villain, Nash Rep presents Disney‘s Frozen starring Rachel Potter as Elsa and Aleia Eagleton as Anna, with Lane Adam Williamson as Hans, Colin Carswell as Kristoff, Reagan Allen as Olaf and Connor Adair as Sven. Frozen will be presented in TPAC’s Polk Theatre from December 4-20. CLICK HERE to purchase tickets or for more information. As always, check out Nashville Rep online and follow them on Facebook, X, YouTube and Instagram.
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As Juicy, this retelling’s Hamlet, Julian “Joolz” Stroop delivers a performance that is instantly mesmerizing. Dressed in black, but with flare that lets us know they’re their own person deep down, Stroop’s Juicy is a stark contrast to the bright, bustling energy around them, Stroop embodies what it means to feel different within your own family. Their Juicy is wickedly sarcastic, deeply unsure of themself, yet painfully self-aware. Where Shakespeare’s Hamlet spirals toward destruction, Juicy wrestles with whether violence is the only inheritance available. Stroop captures the tension between rage and restraint with remarkable control. You can see the weight of expectation pressing in—the desire to prove themself to a father who was cruel in life and demanding in death. Stroop’s performance reflects the universal burden of feeling unseen, and when ultimately questioning the necessity of revenge, it lands with emotional clarity. Whether performing a telling karaoke number at the BBQ, sharing a laugh with friends, a more intimate moment with a lifelong crush or tense scenes with parental figures, Stroop steps up and shows out in a memorable Nashville Rep debut performance.
Tamiko Robinson Steele’s Tedra, the Queen Gertrude counterpart, is a sheer joy to behold from her first entrance on. She exudes sensual confidence and the unapologetic energy of a woman determined to find happiness on her own terms. One of my longtime favorite regional actresses, Robinson Steele masterfully reveals the emotional compromises beneath that surface. Like Gertrude, Tedra aligns herself with the new man quickly—but here, the choice feels rooted in survival and stability rather than simple obliviousness. Robinson Steele balances humor and depth beautifully, embodying a mother navigating grief, desire, and the societal pressures that center men in her world. And did I spot a bit of gold in that megawatt smile? A fun nod to Queen Gertrude and Tedra’s own status at the Queen of her castle. Nice touch.
As Larry, the Laertes counterpart, Michael A. McAllister-Spurgeon initially leans into bravado and expected masculinity. But as the story unfolds, he allows vulnerability to seep through the cracks. Like Laertes, Larry is poised to embrace retaliation—but McAllister-Spurgeon reveals the insecurity driving that impulse. His performance underscores how young men inherit scripts of aggression without ever being asked whether they want them. The nuance he brings elevates Larry from stereotype to fully realized human being. And that finale reveal….YAAAAAAS!
Persephone Felder-Fentress steps into a gender-switched Polonius role as Rabby, Larry and Opal’s mother, with sharp comedic precision. While Shakespeare’s Polonius is verbose and meddlesome, Rabby feels more direct and grounded. Felder-Fentress handles the humor effortlessly, but she also brings a relatable maternal complexity to the role. You know that female relative who always pinched your cheeks as a kid and inevitable asks “when are you getting yourself a girlfriend?” That’s Felder-Fentress’ Rabby. The dynamic between Rabby, Larry, and Opal textbook good christian family facade masking those things we don’t talk about beneath the surface. Y’all, during Rev’s pre-feast prayer, when I noticed Felder-Fentress’s Rabby clicking her bejeweled heels together in prayerful agreement to each thing Rev mentioned, I knew I longed for an invitation to the cookout!
Rounding out the players is Gerold Oliver’s Tio, the Horatio character. Though his stage-time is limited, he is a delight as usual. His comedic timing, pulled facial expressions and overall demeanor a joy to watch. Yet Oliver ensures Tio is more than comic relief. In a climactic, albeit alter-state-induced monologue that begins like a muchie-fueled rambling, but soon climaxes into something unexpectedly profound. Oliver lands the humor and the wisdom with equal finesse as Tio reminds the audience of the play’s core truth: “Far as we know, we are in the only place in the cosmos that welcomes our particular brand of life. Why waste it trying to be miserable cause it’s gonna make somebody else happy?”
Amber Whatley’s lighting brilliantly shifts from warm afternoon glow to something cooler and more spectral when Pap’s ghost appears, then changing throughout from the familiarity of a family gather to the intensity of truths revealed. Nivedhan Singh’s sound design underscores both the humor and the haunting without overwhelming the text and lifting the mood when called for.
At the center is Brian Charles Rooney, who’s made quite a name for himself, not only on the local level, but for his work in New York on Broadway, is well-known for his vocal prowess as a musical theatre powerhouse. Rooney captures the full breadth of George’s life journey—from mischievous boy to wide-eyed dreamer to the exhausted, cornered adult wondering where everything went wrong. Remarkably, he accomplishes this not through drastic physical transformation but through subtle, sharply observed choices: a shift in vocal pitch, a slight change in posture, the weight of responsibility settling into the shoulders. These gradations make his downward spiral heartbreaking and his redemption cathartic. As George Bailey, it’s his sincere believability as the multi-faceted depth he brings to the stage that holds the audience’s attention from that first appearance of a man defeated to the much-loved ringing of that angelic bell signifying all is well with the world. His performance as George Bailey is nothing short of revelatory. And YES…though this production is not a musical, the audiences is indeed treated to just a bit of Rooney’s pitch-perfect multi-octave voice for a quick little verse of Buffalo Gals, the beloved tune featured in the 1946 film classic.
As Mary Hatch Bailey, Tamiko Robinson Steele radiates warmth, quiet confidence, and fierce devotion. Her Mary is not simply the supportive spouse—she’s the emotional compass of the story, grounding George even when he’s flailing hardest. Steele’s effortless sincerity elevates every scene she touches. From their scenes depicting George and Mary’s childhood friendship to their teenage flirtation, Steele’s sweet embodiment of Mary is palpable. The scene at the drugstore soda fountain when Mary leans over to George and whispers in his bad ear her devotion, I couldn’t help but have a little eye sweat. With Steele in the role, it’s no wonder George offers Mary the moon.

Among the remaining ensemble are Eric D. Pasto Crosby, who is first seen in a brief appearance as Mr. Bailey and a little more stage time as Nick the barkeep (question…did they really have Sports Bars called as such in the 1940s? It’s rhetorical. Sports Bars weren’t a thing until the 1960s, thus my only complaint about the set, for when Clarences shows George what life would have been like had he not been born, they visit the bar formerly owned by Martini, now emblazoned with a mirror-etched sign reading Nick’s Sports Bar). Aleia Eagleton and Darci Nalepa Elam appear throughout portraying various townspeople. Among their standout turns, Elam’s Ma Bailey is motherly perfection while her Tilley is flirty and fun. Then there’s the small in stature, but big in energetic presence of Eagleton as she is fabulously convincing and utterly enjoyable in the tiny, but pivotal role of Zuzu.
RAPID FIRE WITH BRIAN CHARLES ROONEY, GEORGE BAILEY IN NASHVILLE REP’s IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE
RAPID FIRE WITH TAMIKO ROBINSON STEELE, MARY HATCH BAILEY IN IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE
RAPID FIRE WITH JENNIFER WHITCOMB-OLIVA, CLARENCE & OTHERS IN IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE
RAPID FIRE WITH EVE PETTY, VIOLET IN IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE
RAPID FIRE WITH IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE DIRECTOR, ALICIA LARK FUSS
RAPID FIRE WITH COME FROM AWAY‘s CARRIE TILLIS
RAPID FIRE WITH COME FROM AWAY‘s JENNIFER JACKSON
RAPID FIRE WITH COME FROM AWAY‘s BRENDA SPARKS


RAPID FIRE Q&A WITH TAMIKO ROBINSON STEELE, CAMAE IN NASHVILLE REP’s THE MOUNTAINTOP

Rapid Fire with Matthew Carlton, Scrooge in Nashville Rep’s A Christmas Carol
Rapid Fire with Eric Pasto-Crosby, Bob Cratchit in Nashville Rep’s A Christmas Carol
Rapid Fire with Denice Hicks, Mrs. Fezziwig in Nashville Rep’s A Christmas Carol
Rapid Fire with Galen Fottt, Mr. Fezziwig in Nashville Rep’s A Christmas Carol
Rapid Fire with Waitress star, Sarah Aili
JHPENTERTAINMENT:
Rapid Fire with Waitress co-star, Piper Jones
JHPENTERTAINMENT: I saw on your Facebook that you, in another media moment promoting Waitress, cited your Mama’s Chess Pie as your all-time favorite. Heck, I think you and I might hold the record for most Chess Pie-related Facebook posts. So, a two-parter… 1) What is it about your Mama’s Chess Pie? AND…2) I think you might like my Mama’s Chess Pie, too, so when are we gonna trade recipes?
Rapid Fire with Waitress co-star, Annabelle Fox
JHPENTERTAINMENT:
Rapid Fire with Waitress director, Lauren Shouse
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Then comes the entire company for Mysterious Ways, a hymn of a song, set in the local church (effectively indicated as such by a singular light source casting the shape of a illuminated cross onto the wall behind the action) where the entire community sings of God watching over them no matter. Nia Safari Banks’ costumes are a highlight of this number, for if you’ve ever had the great fortune to attend a Black Church, you KNOW the way you present yourself before the Lord IN the Lord’s House is of utmost importance! Which leads me to the Church Ladies, Darlene, Doris and Jarene, a snooping, truth-tellin’ trio who pop up now and again throughout the show to fill the audience in on the latest happening. Lindsay Kay Pace, Yolanda Treece and Meggan Utech a divine trio indeed as the Church Ladies. Characters I know all too well, for you see, growing up, there were two ladies in the church my family attended who I lovingly referred to as my very own ‘Church Ladies’. They were always there to stick their noses in and offer advice, unsolicited though it may have been. I can’t be the only one who kind of wishes Pace, Treece and Utech would develop their own show around these three characters. Not only do they provide intel, but plenty of smiles as the absurdity of their insertion into every situation.
Giving the Church Ladies something to talk about…enter Mister, as played by Elliott Winston Robinson. As Robinson alluded in my
Speaking of memorable men, Gerold Oliver is just sooooo good as Harpo, Mister’s ne’er do well son. He get’s his moment to really shine alongside the men during Brown Betty, a song praising the beauty of Black women, Raven Buntyn’s Squeak, in particular. Speaking of Squeak, thank goodness Buntyn vocally pays homage to the character’s name by occasionally hitting a pitch so high that she actually squeaks when she talks, something the recent film adaptation opted not the do. I also loved the quick pop-in appearances by some of the female ensemble during this one, too. Oliver’s Harpo offers not only comedic levity from time to time, but also becomes the first man in the story to break the cycle of violence towards women.
Of course Harpo has a bit of assistance in breaking that cycle in the form of his no-bullshit-taking wife, Sofia, played to the absolute hilt by the gloriously talented Shinnerie Jackson. It was everything I could do to remain in my seat at the end of her anthemic Hell No number. The thunderous applause that followed was evidence I was not alone in my appreciation of the number and Jackson’s performance. Cause here the thing, Jackson’s portrayal of Sofia hits all the notes, not just musically, but emotionally. When she’s strong and defiant, the audience feels that defiance and empowering presence. When Sofia is temporarily defeated, we feel that too. An exemplary performance all ‘round!
The chemistry between Nicole’s Shug and Hardon’s Celie is simply magical. You truly believe these two women have discovered a love and bond like never before.The progression of this relationship is perfidy paced and played out not doubt by way of the director’s precise instruction, but also these two actors’ understanding a care for the characters.

RAPID FIRE WITH THE COLOR PURPLE’s SOFIA, SHINNERRIE JACKSON
RAPID FIRE WITH THE COLOR PURPLE’s MISTER, ELLIOTT WINSTON ROBINSON
RAPID FIRE WITH THE COLOR PURPLE’S SQUEAK, RAVEN BYNTYN
RAPID FIRE WITH THE COLOR PURPLE’S HARPO, GEROLD OLIVER