John is a very open and honest character; in contrast to Carol's secretive nature, John shares his motivations, spelling out his desires, passions and whims. He may be an unmistakable part of the oppressive white male elite, and he may even sexually harass Carol, but he is honest in his confusion, exasperation, desperation, and ultimate denial. John is unquestionably the audience's access point to the play; Mamet facilitates our identification with him through these character traits, while he alienates us from Carol by clouding her motives. If at the end we side with John, as most readers do—and as Mamet seems to have intended—it is not only because of his actions contrasted to Carol's charges, but also because of who he is and how he behaves. This humanity is brilliantly highlighted by John in act two, as he worries that Carol is making him a "bogeyman" and trying to strip him of his complexity.
For an individual whose primary role is analysis—John examines and critiques the institution of higher learning and the system of education in general in his classes and his lectures to Carol—he turns surprisingly little of this analysis inward to monitor and limit his own behavior. Unlike Carol, John is not constantly limiting his own actions. His physicality with Carol highlights the contrast between the two; while John plays into her hands by touching her, restraining her, and ultimately beating her, Carol refuses to fight back, censoring her own actions. Act two opens significantly with a rare instance of self-reflection on John's part; confronting his true feelings, his desire for security and material goods which is somewhat at odds with his teachings, is ground-shaking for John, and his character slowly moves from vain self-righteousness to a sort of humble modesty.
In a play about sexual harassment, how John and Carol relate to their bodies is important. John is always the initiator of physical acts—hence the criminal charges—but it does not seem to come in a sexual way. Contact is rare, and so it is noteworthy when it occurs. John tries to embrace Carol to calm her in Act One, attempts to keep her in his office out of exasperation in Act Two, and throws her down and beats her in Act Three. His physical acts are those of a normal person, one who is not terribly self-conscious of contact and who lives both a meaningful mental life and a physical one; a reader might picture him playing catch with his kid on a weekend. This contrasts Carol's physical uncertainty—she is primarily concerned with mental things and even seems awkward in her own skin.
Carol's actions and behavior are simple enough to document, but the substance of her character is more enigmatic and difficult to grasp. The first act paints her as an exasperated, clueless schoolgirl torn between concern for grades and her desire to genuinely learn, bordering on self-hatred linked to her lack of scholastic success; by the play's end, Carol is a manipulative, intelligent woman with a strongly developed political agenda. It is connecting these two Carols that proves the difficulty, a game that Mamet avoids at many costs. Subtle clues, such as her involvement with a group of advisers and her extensive knowledge of university and legal statutes regarding harassment, are downplayed, as they are not central to the plot. Instead, we are left having to pick between two equally difficult interpretations of Carol; one, as the manipulator who has assumed a naïve facade in previous interactions with John, and the other as a girl who goes through an incredible progression with very little obvious motivation, be it external influence or, as she describes, the simple troubles of someone of her socio-economic background.
Motivation is an important word in reference to Carol, not only because it is the often-mocked acting catchphrase. She embarks on a course of action which, if nothing else, takes a lot of effort; it is seemingly something one would have to be motivated to do and, more likely than not, motivated strongly. Yet Carol's motivations are in many ways a mystery to the reader; she identifies being upset at her socio-economic background, resenting the oppression which John and others of his station exert, and says she desires understanding. Looking at either of the dominant interpretations of Carol outlined above, however, it seems difficult to see these factors as direct motivating influences upon her actions. If she has been feigning naïveté with John, then her attack requires careful planning and may suggest a more expansive range of motivations, while if she is indeed traveling an arc, the influences do not seem to have strong enough force to push her along in this transformation.
However, it is her lack of explained motivation which fuels interpretation of Oleanna as pro-political correctness. It is easier to identify with John, by far, and by making Carol's motivations and thus her humanity less accessible to the audience, Mamet runs the risk of doing just what John warns against: simplifying a character, Carol, and having her instead as a symbol for a position in an issue.