In a parallel universe in which a harmonious two-state solution was achieved in Israel/Palestine, you might question why a theatre would revive Ryan Craig’s solid (but not classic) Jewish family drama barely a decade after it debuted at the National Theatre,
We do not live in that parallel universe. And so it’s obvious why director Lindsay Posner might choose to revive The Holy Rosenbergs. A brand new play in which a north London Jewish family is rent asunder by IDF-serving son Danny’s death in Gaza and daughter Ruth’s work as a human rights lawyer looking into IDF war crimes would seem at best on the nose in the post-October 7 landscape. But as a period drama set in 2009 – which is stressed by the blaring ‘00s bangers during the transitions – it gains something, a timelessness, that reminds us of the bleakly circular nature of the situation. The fact you could make this play today and it would be equally relevant is why it feels more relevant than if it was actually made today. If that makes sense.
It is the night before Danny’s London memorial - he’s already had a funeral in Israel - and things are not going well for the Rosenbergs. Hot mess third sibling Jonny (Nitai Levi) is angry and sloppy. Rabbi Simon (Alex Zur) has popped over to advise Ruth that there are protests planned over her presence at her beloved brother’s funeral and could she maybe skip it? And then there’s dad David (Nicholas Woodeson) and mum Lesley (Tracy-Ann Oberman), both locked in rictus-like bonhomie as they try to negotiate their son’s death, hurt at their daughter’s work, and fears over the decline of the family catering business.
Without ever seeming to aggressively both sides it, Craig’s play is compassionate to everyone and, despite some eye watering moments, it seeks to empathise rather than condemn. While clearly it’s an enormously divisive issue that most people will bring their own, probably intractable perspectives to, it’s obvious that Craig is seeking to show why support for Israel can be such a personal and emotional thing to some British Jews, without actually endorsing said support when it extends to the bombing of schools or use of white phosphorus - both argued about here, both depressingly in the news again.
There’s a Miller-esque tone to the domestic side of it, with Woodeson’s struggling caterer David having a whiff of Willy Loman to him as he blithely fails to grasp that he’s yesterday’s man.
The trouble is that for all its bracing relevance, the Israel/Gaza stuff is so bombastic as to overwhelm the more nuanced family tragedy. The big set piece is a colossal ding dong about Israel’s pariah status between visiting local dignitary Saul (Dan Fredenburgh) – who is considering hiring David to cater his daughter’s wedding – and Ruth’s boss, Sir Stephen (Adrian Lukis), who has conveniently dropped by. It’s a powerful section, in which an emotional Saul tries to draw blood from Stephen, who is disarmingly sympathetic and acknowledges Israel is held to a higher standard than other countries that commit war crimes - but that doesn’t mean it should commit them.
But these two characters are neither part of the family, nor in any other scenes. You can hear the gears clunking as Ryan manoeuvres them into position to have this one specific argument. Fine, but it leaves his main characters awkwardly in the dust.
Still, it’s a powerful scene. Posner’s production is conservative in its naturalism – the songs are the most flamboyant thing about it – but he gets fine performances out of his cast, particularly Dorothea Myer-Bennett as Ruth, whose fiery dedication to justice masks her vulnerability as a human being.
It’s a bit sub-Miller in an age where you can’t move for revivals of actual Miller. But whatever faults it may have, there is, sadly, no sign of The Holy Rosenbergs fading into irrelevance.
