‘Vineland Place’ at Palm Beach Dramaworks: A Literary Thriller of Secrets and Deception

 

 

This is the world premiere of an intriguing play from Palm Beach Dramaworks’ Perlberg Festival of New Plays: Vineland Place by Steven Dietz. If the playwright’s name sounds familiar, it may be because Dietz has long been one of the country’s most produced dramatists, with some forty plays to his credit. This latest work sits squarely within his wheelhouse: part murder mystery, part psychological duel, wrapped in a highly stylized production where every theatrical element contributes to the whole. Look to the shadows, the pauses, the sidelong glances, and the accumulating unease to find both the meaning and the pleasure of this play.

 

It begins innocently enough. A young writer, Henry Sanders, is hired by Victoria Brody, widow of novelist Fenton Brody, a one-book literary phenomenon whose lone success, Sheridan Road, became a cult classic, “a thriller wrapped around the harrowing emotional drama of a family.” A publisher, having paid a substantial advance, was eagerly awaiting the sequel, Vineland Place, until Brody died in a nine-story fall from the couple’s penthouse apartment (“the best thing that could possibly happen on the eve of publication”).

 

Victoria promises the publisher the nearly completed manuscript and hires Sanders to finish it. He must work inside the apartment where the notes and manuscript remain, taking nothing home at night, even signing an NDA before beginning. Nothing suspicious here, right? Sanders appears the ideal choice, idolizing Brody as he does. You might say he belongs to the cult’s vanguard.

 

This is a two-hander, and I cannot think of a more ideal actor for Victoria Brody than Anne-Marie Cusson, who excelled in another memorable PBD two-hander nearly a decade ago, Collected Stories, likewise a play with writing and authorship at its heart. That production remains one of my favorite Dramaworks offerings from that period, in no small part because of Cusson’s performance.

Christopher Ryan Cowan and Anne-Marie Cusson; Jason Nuttle Photography

 

Opposite her is PBD newcomer Christopher Ryan Cowan as the eager, star-struck Henry Sanders, hired to complete the unfinished novel. What could possibly go wrong? Plenty.

 

What begins as a seemingly straightforward story about a young writer finishing the work of a dead literary idol gradually becomes something far more layered and psychologically combative. Dietz turns the relationship between Sanders and Victoria into an increasingly dangerous duel of shifting sympathies.

 

This is where the acting of Cusson and Cowan truly shines, the two performers handling these reversals like a finely tuned piece of counterpoint. Director J. Barry Lewis makes the most of these high-wire moments through precise pacing, furtive looks, and carefully measured pauses that allow the tension to build layer by layer. He understands how to transform what at first resembles a sophisticated drawing room drama into a genuine murder mystery. Clever dialogue and concealed secrets become dangerous weapons, and Lewis capitalizes on every opportunity the script affords him.

 

The play demands close attention from its audience. Some of the necessary back-story must be explained rather than dramatized directly, occasionally brushing against the fourth wall, and the intricacies of the plot matter greatly. Still, Dietz keeps these mechanics moving smoothly, and this cast and production team seem particularly adept at making those transitions feel effortless. One can easily imagine Vineland Place adapted into a Netflix miniseries where some of the back-story might unfold more expansively onscreen.

 

Anne-Marie Cusson and Christopher Ryan Cowan; Jason Nuttle Photography

Cusson delivers another bravura performance. Is Victoria seductive, manipulative, vulnerable, or victimized? Cusson walks that line throughout the evening, sometimes bewildering the audience, sometimes delighting it, often doing both simultaneously. Cowan proves an effective foil. Was Henry hired merely to finish a manuscript, or perhaps for companionship by a woman widowed only six months earlier, amid the wine, candlelight, and increasingly suggestive atmosphere? Or was there another motive altogether? Cowan balances defensiveness and aggression effectively, his character alternately powerless and empowered depending on the shifting terrain of the scene.

 

Anne Mundell’s scenic design hangs heavily in a film noir, “bad-decisions-that-make-great-stories” atmosphere perfectly suited to the play. The upper-class Boston apartment, perched on the ninth floor of a building where the elevator goes only to the eighth, becomes part of the mystery itself. Watch carefully: even that seemingly incidental detail carries implications. The set proves ideal for bringing together both the elegance of drawing room drama and the menace of noir.

 

Costume designer Brian O'Keefe has ample opportunity to chart Victoria Brody’s shifting personas, from a striking red pantsuit to a seductive kimono-style jacket that lends a bohemian allure to her appearance. Henry Sanders, by contrast, is appropriately subdued in utilitarian young-writer attire, complete with a weathered leather tote bag: nothing flashy, nothing memorable.

 

The lighting design by Paul Black deepens the atmosphere as the evening progresses, gradually moving the play from drawing room sophistication toward full noir sensibility, the illumination dimming into low light and candle glow.

 

PBD newcomer Robertson Witmer provides both sound design and original music. The opening music is somber and almost liturgical, with echoes of Erik Satie in the piano passages, at times underscored by droning sustained notes that quietly suggest dread beneath the civilized surface.

 

Projection designer Adam J. Thompson reminds us that while this is indeed a murder mystery, writing itself remains at the center of the play. Letters occasionally stream across the set, coalescing into words and phrases — including the ominous “I know what you’ve done” — while even the ellipsis takes on unexpected significance.

 

And so the play finally arrives at its central question: which secrets have been deliberately withheld, and which thoughts remain merely unfinished? “One of us is smart enough to pull this off,” a character observes, and the audience spends much of the evening wondering which one it is. The answer leads to a satisfying and memorable denouement. This is a thriller very much worth seeing.

 

Vineland Place; Jason Nuttle Photography

The Crucible at Palm Beach Dramaworks: A Landmark Production of Power and Relevance

 

Tragic and transcendent, this Palm Beach Dramaworks production echoes the Shakespearian tradition, masterfully tracing the fatal flaws of its characters and the society itself that binds them. From its haunting opening scene to the sobering truth of its conclusion, it excels in every dramatic respect: acting, tempo,
direction, and stagecraft. The audience was visibly stunned on opening night by this three-plus hour landmark production (including intermission), erupting into a standing ovation.

 

Arthur Miller wrote The Crucible in 1953 as a metaphor for the McCarthy hearings, using the Salem, Massachusetts witch trials of 1692 as his historical framework. He adopted the stylized language of that era, achieving a rhythmic effect beautifully rendered here. The play feels all the more relevant given today’s political landscape, making Salem’s madness uncomfortably current. Religious fanaticism is alive, well, and encouraged. We may not be hanging “witches,” but we have increasingly become victims of the disappearing line between religion and state, logic and hysteria.

 

When a group of girls in Puritan Salem are caught dancing in the woods, they ignite a lethal witch hunt to escape punishment. Led by the vengeful Abigail Williams, they accuse innocent neighbors of witchcraft, plunging the community into religious mania. John Proctor attempts to debunk the girls’ lies to save his accused wife, but his efforts are compromised by his past indiscretions with Abigail. Caught in the court’s trap, he is pressured to sign a false confession to avoid hanging. Ultimately, he refuses to validate a dishonest system, choosing death over a tarnished name.

 

The Crucible is about compulsory theocratic conformity and the consequences of not obeying the state. Personal grudges and the hunger for recognition blossom into accusations, and as the drama unfolds, it gathers unstoppable momentum, with virtually every character complicit. Accusations form an ever-expanding circle: once one name is spoken, others follow in a litany of “I saw…with the Devil,” until the cry goes out, “Let the marshal bring in the irons!”

 

What is desperately needed is for someone to stand up and say no.

 

In 1692, John Proctor was that person.

 

Cat Boynton and Tom Patterson

The play ultimately asks whether we would join him. Our “community” today may not be a small New England town, but on national and global stages the same dynamics are amplified by social media and the culture of public shaming. That is what makes this production feel so immediate and urgent in an age of extreme political polarization. As Miller himself put it, “the play seems to present the same primeval structure of human sacrifice to the furies of fanaticism and paranoia that goes on repeating itself forever.”

 

Palm Beach Dramaworks’ Producing Artistic Director, William Hayes, also directs this production, bringing a unified vision to its conception and execution. In selecting the play for this season he recognized its increasing relevance. Hayes brought together an outstanding ensemble and shaped an approach that emphasizes the play’s central tensions: religious fervor, fear and hysteria, the dangers of theocracy, and the fragile but essential role of personal integrity. While he has directed scores of plays, this may well be his masterpiece, years in the making, including his research into Arthur Miller’s primary documents. That painstaking and passionate work is evident throughout.

 

In an inspired and somewhat uncharacteristic touch, Hayes positions actors in the audience at the opening of each act, chanting hymns of the era (researched by Bruce Linser) before moving to the stage—drawing us into the world of the play from the outset and making us, uncomfortably, part of the community being judged.

 

Tom Patterson and Elisabeth Yancey

Tom Patterson (PBD debut) plays John Proctor, the even-keeled yet quick-tempered farmer, both physically and dramatically imposing. Authority is antithetical to him, yet he carries the guilt of his affair with Abigail like an ever-present weight. Patterson sustains a palpable tension between restraint and eruption, particularly in his scenes with Abigail, where desire, anger, and moral revulsion uneasily coexist. He gives Proctor a near-Shakespearian sense of consequence, a man fully aware that his past actions have set forces in motion that he can no longer control, culminating in a cathartic refusal to sign a false confession: “Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life…”

 

Elisabeth Yancey and cast of The Crucible

Abigail Williams is played by Elisabeth Yancey, last seen at Dramaworks in Lobby Hero. She stands apart even in stillness, her facial expressions and body language constantly engaged with the action. In contemporary terms, she might be described as a vengeful influencer, weaponizing charisma to manipulate public sentiment while pursuing the removal of Elizabeth Proctor. Yancey captures both the jealousy and desire that fuel Abigail’s actions, driving the accusations with chilling conviction.

 

Julie Kleiner, Gary Cadwallader, Tom Patterson, Andy Prosky, Elisabeth Yancey

Julie Kleiner, a veteran South Florida actress making her PBD debut, plays Elizabeth Proctor with quiet, unwavering virtue that can read as distance or restraint. Known in the village as a paragon of integrity, she delivers one of the play’s most piercing lines to her husband: “The magistrate sits in your heart that judges you.” Kleiner effectively conveys the tension between acceptance and judgment, ultimately guiding her husband toward his final moral choice.

 

Tom Patterson and Andy Prosky and ensemble cast

Deputy Governor Danforth is portrayed by Andy Prosky (previously seen at Dramaworks in The Humans), projecting the authority and arrogance of a man more concerned with preserving the court than seeking truth. His rigid logic regarding invisible crimes underscores the danger of absolute certainty. Prosky plays him with a stark, almost binary force with no shades of gray.

 

Nick Jordan, another PBD newcomer, plays Reverend John Hale, initially eager and intellectual, later tormented by his complicity. His growing desperation is palpable as he attempts to undo the damage he helped create.

 

Tom Wahl, Rob Donohoe, Nick Jordan, John Leonard Thompson, Margery Lowe

Tom Wahl masterfully portrays the insecure and authority-seeking Reverend Parris, shifting from righteous zeal to palpable anxiety as the consequences of the court’s actions begin to threaten his own position. He maintains a constant undercurrent of unease, a man whose authority is rooted more in fear than conviction.

Julie Kleiner, Tom Patterson, and Cat Boynton

 

Cat Boynton’s Mary Warren is particularly affecting, her fear and anxiety building steadily as she is pulled between Proctor and Abigail. In the pivotal courtroom scene, Boynton begins with a fragile, halting attempt to tell the truth, her voice small against the authority surrounding her. But as the other girls, led by Abigail, erupt into a frenzy, convulsing, mimicking, and feeding off one another’s hysteria, Boynton’s composure visibly fractures. Drawn into their collective energy, she collapses back into their orbit, a chilling demonstration of how fear and social pressure can overwhelm individual conscience. It becomes one of the production’s most powerful sequences, where performance and direction converge to disturbing effect.

 

Karen Stephens brings both mysticism and survival instinct to Tituba, a Barbados slave in the Parris household, while Rob Donohoe (as Giles Corey) balances comic timing with principled defiance, refusing to name names even at great personal cost.

 

While these are some of the key performances, this is truly an ensemble achievement. Miller structures the play so that each character contributes to its inexorable momentum, and Hayes fully realizes that vision. The remainder of the cast includes many familiar faces to South Florida audiences, Barbara B. Bradshaw (Rebecca Nurse), Gary Cadwallader (Judge Hathorne), John Campagnuolo (Hopkins), Kaia Davis (Betty Parris; PBD debut), Peter W. Galman (Francis Nurse), Hannah Haley (Mercy Lewis), David A. Hyland (John Willard, and Fight Director), Margery Lowe (Ann Putnam/Sarah Good), Natalie Donahue McMahon (Susanna Walcott; PBD debut), John Leonard Thompson (Thomas Putnam), and Seth Trucks (Ezekiel Cheever; PBD debut). They form a cohesive and compelling whole.

 

The technical elements of this production do far more than support the performances—they actively deepen the sense of dread and inevitability that drives the play.

 

Scenic designer Doug Wilkinson (PBD’s technical director making his design debut with the company) creates a world that reflects both the period and the moral decay beneath it: wide-plank floors, stark architecture, and a looming central tree that feels almost sentient. It suggests both the forest of the opening and something more ominous, as if the Devil himself might be concealed within it, its branches reaching outward toward the audience.

 

Brian O’Keefe’s costumes adhere to the austere Puritan aesthetic, largely monochromatic but with subtle distinctions, lace-trimmed collars, variations in texture, and touches of color among the girls, that quietly define character and hierarchy. John Proctor’s leather garb and boots set him apart as both a farmer and an individualist. Jane Lynch adds further distinction with her wig designs for most of the characters.

 

José Santiago’s (PBD debut) lighting design is especially effective in shaping the emotional arc, intensifying as hysteria builds, softening in the rare moments of calm, and repeatedly drawing focus to the omnipresent tree, which becomes a visual barometer of the play’s mood.

 

Roger Arnold’s sound design underscores the production with a continuous sense of foreboding—dissonant tones, thunder, church gongs, and hymns woven through scene transitions. There is percussive rhythm to it, a drumbeat that propels the action toward its inexorable conclusion.

 

Adam J. Thompson’s projections add a spectral layer—mist, memory, and the suggestion of unseen forces—culminating in haunting reminders of the human cost of the hysteria, real-life names and ages that transform abstraction into stark reality.

 

Assistant director and choreographer Jessica Chen contributes significantly, particularly in the striking opening sequence where movement and staging combine to create one of the production’s most memorable images.

 

This magnificent production, whether it evokes 1692, 1953, or today, is a poignant reminder that Palm Beach Dramaworks is one of the nation’s leading regional theaters. Arthur Miller once said that Laurence Olivier’s 1965 National Theatre production was the finest staging of The Crucible he had seen. One wonders what he would say about this one. William Hayes has created a work worthy of the West End or Broadway, and we are fortunate to have a performance of this caliber right here in West Palm Beach, if only through April 19.

 

The Cast of The Crucible

 Photographs by Jason Nuttle Photography, except for the stage itself and the program cover