Ryan Craig’s The Holy Rosenbergs premiered at the National Theatre in 2011, but it feels as though it could have been written yesterday, which perhaps only goes to show that we learn nothing from our mistakes. Set in 2009, the play brings two threads together – a grieving family with a failing business and reputations in the balance; and the politics of the Middle East, sharply focussed on the Israeli Defence Force which is being challenged in Geneva for war crimes. The link between the two comes in the form of Danny Rosenberg, the son who left the rest of the family in Edgware, set up home in Israel, became a member of the IDF, and was questioned under the Geneva Convention over his part in military operations in Gaza.
Flying helicopters over Gaza, Danny is now dead. He has been buried in Israel and his memorial service in Edgware is tomorrow. Danny’s human rights lawyer sister Ruth has been asked to give the eulogy by their father David; but she is assisting Sir Stephen Crossley in writing the report looking into the actions of the IDF. Conflict of interest much? With rumours of a protest at tomorrow’s memorial, specifically targeted against Ruth, should she stay away or attend? As The Holy Rosenbergs takes place over the course of the one day, that’s something we never discover.
With a few nods to Arthur Miller – the unseen Danny casts a similar shadow to the dead Larry in All My Sons and David Rosenberg has more than a whiff of Willy Loman about him – Craig’s writing is intense and compelling and creates a thoroughly believable story with totally recognisable characters. Questions of family loyalty, membership of a wider community, and adherence to one’s faith all play a vital part in this play. David Rosenberg needs someone to continue his family kosher catering business into the future, and with Danny having chosen to move to Israel, and Ruth a gifted lawyer in Geneva, it falls to layabout younger son Jonny to take up the mantle; so that’s never going to happen. The play also examines the contrast between those things which unite us and those things that divide us, especially when they’re so closely connected. For the Rosenbergs, is there a point or an attitude which will unite them all – and is truth more or less important than putting on a solid front?
The Jewish elements of the play are central to its core. Craig presents the Edgware community as having a genuine adherence to the faith, belief in the cause of Israel, and recognising the importance of family, ritual and respect. War, and the actions of war, are at odds with the kindness and generosity at the heart of the Jewish community; and the actions of the Israeli government inevitably create tensions and divisions of loyalty. The Rosenberg family are almost uniquely caught up in the fractious attitudes towards this first Gaza war; and the play does not shy away from the personal tragedy as well as the wider political issues.
One of the joys of seeing a show at the Menier is to discover how the seating configuration and staging has changed since the last time you visited. For The Holy Rosenbergs, Tim Shortall’s immaculately detailed set dominates the space and feels all-encompassing. It’s a living room we all recognise – especially if you were around during the 1980s – with its busy patterned carpeting and elegant, sophisticated G Plan furniture which you can imagine has been polished to the nth degree. Family photos and all the trappings of middle-class Judaism are everywhere – it’s a room that the family will have been so proud of about forty years ago and somehow time has stood still in the interim.
Lindsay Posner’s extraordinary cast deliver totally engrossing performances. Nicholas Woodeson and Tracy-Ann Oberman as David and Lesley Rosenberg are astounding with their perfectly observed, immaculately executed characterisations of the heart of this solid family, effortlessly delivering all the humour inherent in their characters but ruthlessly revealing the inner torture they both face. They’re mesmerising. Dorothea Myer-Bennett is also extraordinarily good as Ruth, treading a fine line between standing up for what she believes in and wanting to grieve as a family member as much as the rest of them.
Dan Fredenburgh is excellent as family friend and respected client Saul, carefully navigating a disastrous dinner party and then later vociferously championing his cause, and Nitai Levi gives us an amusing and credible portrayal of the contrary wastrel Jonny. There’s terrific support from Alex Zur as the young and well-meaning Rabbi Simon, and Adrian Lukis as Ruth’s boss Sir Stephen, awkwardly put on the spot and receiving the full blast of family criticism; his delightful coping mechanism for dealing with the discomfort put me in mind of a younger version of John Le Mesurier.
The play is at its best when fully examining the family dynamic, observing the minute interactions between the family members. Perhaps it gets a little bogged down in the second act where there are some lengthy and slightly didactic speeches – necessary for the plot development but nevertheless weighty for the audience to take in. However, it’s a memorable production which poses many difficult questions and you leave the theatre in awe of some truly first class acting.













































