Conscience: déjà vu at JRT
- Anthony Chase
- Nov 2
- 4 min read
By Anthony Chase
History rarely rhymes so ominously as it does in Conscience, now onstage at Jewish Repertory Theatre of Western New York, a play that turns a politician's moment of moral clarity into a chilling meditation on power and truth. Written by Joe DiPietro, the play centers on Maine Senator Margaret Chase Smith's legendary showdown with Senator Joseph McCarthy during the scarred, paranoid aftermath of World War II. This is a history lesson with irresistible modern undertones.
The play opens with a video montage: images of European fascism, the devastation of war, and the United States poised as global conscience. Against this backdrop, we meet Margaret Chase Smith, the only woman in the Senate at a time of unrelenting political strife, and a rumored vice presidential pick for Dwight Eisenhower.
The first woman to serve in both the U.S. House of Representatives and the Senate, Smith was a pioneering Republican politician from Maine. A formidable legislator and independent thinker, she is most remembered – by those who remember her at all -- for her 1950 "Declaration of Conscience" speech, in which she challenged Senator Joseph McCarthy's anti-Communist tactics and defended Americans' rights to free expression during a time of rampant political fear.
At the time, her courage was universally regarded as a political blunder. Though she did not name McCarthy, her message was clear, and ever petty, ever vindictive, McCarthy went after her with a vengeance.
Josie DiVincenzo embodies Smith as grounded, methodical, and laser-focused, a woman whose pragmatic ethics and quiet determination are always front and center. Her comic moments arise from the dizzying absurdity of surrounding events and the sharpness of her resolve.
This is a clear departure from the signature persona of Harriet Harris, the Tony-winning actress who originated the role in New York. While I did not see Harris's performance in Conscience, which was curtailed by the pandemic, her distinctive stage presence blends eccentric humor with vulnerability and emotional complexity. DiVincenzo imbues Smith with a steely, understated seriousness shaped by the character's historical stature. The sparks here do not originate with eccentric humor, but from steel hitting flint.
The difference reveals not only how the two actors' differing personas shape the role, but also how changing times and production contexts bring new urgency and nuance to Smith's story. Harris played the role before the 2024 election. The original production was framed by critics primarily as a story about feminism and a pioneering woman's courage. Today, it registers unmistakably as a story about anti-fascism and the defense of democratic institutions.
DiPietro's script is adroit as it chronicles the spectacle of self-aggrandizement and the prioritization of power over democratic norms. Smith's battle against McCarthy's vindictiveness, and the offstage complicity of her colleagues, unfolds with distressing echoes of today's headlines. The audience's reactions oscillate between charged silence and the uneasy laughter that accompanies déjà vu. If the audience flinches with recognition at McCarthy's bullying or the complicity of the Senate, it's because the play's warnings feel so pointed and contemporary.
David Mitchell brings chilling reality to the role of Senator Joe McCarthy, reveling in the character's hard-drinking bravado and confident strategic recklessness. McCarthy's weaponized carelessness serves as a trap for adversaries and bystanders alike, as when he pretends at first meeting not to know who Margaret Chase Smith is, only to unleash a flurry of personal details about her moments later. Mitchell's portrayal exposes the seductive cruelty lurking behind the senator's swagger. The effect is a portrait both specific and (in today's political environment) uncannily familiar.
Anna Krempholtz plays Jean Kerr, McCarthy's assistant and later wife, a generally unknown but pivotal historical figure. Her characterization is deftly realized, navigating a difficult line as she balances loyalty to a deeply flawed partner with cold political intelligence. Krempholtz doesn't shy from showing the astonishing moral compromises Kerr makes, disclosing how her influence catalyzed McCarthy's metamorphosis from minor bureaucrat to juggernaut of the right, and then how she navigated his decline.
Nick Stevens offers an emotionally nuanced performance as Smith's loyal advisor and confidante, William Lewis, Jr. Playwright DiPietro takes a dramatic liberty by presenting a man described in the history books merely as a lifelong bachelor, as explicitly gay. The choice deepens the narrative stakes by foregrounding another aspect of McCarthy-era persecution.
The play uses Lewis's gay identity not just as a device but as a lens for examining vulnerability and the courageous bonds of friendship underlying political resilience. Stevens handles the role with notable sensitivity, particularly in a scene exposing the professional and personal costs of protecting truth. It also provides an opportunity to show McCarthy at his most wantonly hateful and disgusting – a scene that neither Stevens nor Mitchell squanders and which will, I'm sure, be making appearances in my nightmares.
Director Steve Vaughan has guided his actors toward vivid and perfectly calibrated performances in a tightly choreographed, restless, and visually dynamic production. Historic projections underscore the immediacy of the drama, and constant movement accentuates the volatility of the situation.
Kari Drozd's costume design smartly highlights personal contrasts -- and DiVincenzo should definitely keep the shoes. Brian Cavanagh's lighting captures the chill fog of intrigue while Tom Makar's sound design subtly positions us historically. Chris Cavanagh's set, a fluid empty space before a projection wall, locates the drama in a world shaped as much by escalating paranoia as by legislative grandeur. In addition to Chris Cavanagh, the historic projections that dominate the landscape of the play are credited to director Vaughan, Stage manager K Gorny, Dramaturg Arin Lee Dandes, and photographer James Gibbons. Clearly, historical research was lavished upon this production.
Ultimately the play's parallels between McCarthy's bullying and today's disdain for institutional process are drawn with neither subtlety nor apology. Yet this is a successful production of a play that, considering its subject matter, proves surprisingly engaging as theater. Anchored by magnetic performances and assured stagecraft, DiPietro's play invites audiences to reckon with the responsibilities of citizenship at a time when truth itself is under siege. This is theater that remembers, and admonishes, in equal measure.
