Review of ‘Christmas Day’: “Jewishness play brims with poignancy despite sabbatical elements”

London’s Almeida Theatre hosts the world premiere of Sam Grabiner’s latest piece, which explores the trials and tribulations of a Jewish family and their clashing opinions on their community. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if its piercing analysis on cultural identity is worth a Mazel Tov.

It might be the festive season, but for so many around the world, these are bleak days, nonetheless. I shall not make a political statement here. Despite its topic, neither does this play — at least, not in terms of taking sides. There’s a reason why the title doesn’t include the word “happy” or “merry” in it. Surprisingly, there’s a lot of humour in it, which is something I shall tackle later. Yet, this is no feel-good story, but a crude, stirring view on existentialism that hits as hard as a rusty stab in the heart.

You don’t need to be Jewish to be compelled. And you don’t need to be an Israel sympathizer either. The script unfolds a blunt, thought-provoking debate, where both supporters and antagonisers belong to the same group. It’s an outstanding feature that proves the material’s artistic value. It does more than just cause a reaction. For many, it will hit a nerve. And its effects are lasting.

Grabiner’s narrative follows the trail of biting classics such as Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? or God of Carnage. Overall, it’s the same concept — same premise, same setting. A friendly gathering rapidly escalates into a ferocious argument fueled by everyone’s ugly truth. Albee depicted the fierce sadness of a dysfunctional marriage. Reza tackled the hypocrisy of faux morality. Now, Grabiner puts together a rousing exploration of identity and its loss through a Jewish perspective.

It’s a bestial act that brims with humanity. The characters’ views clash in a volatile but rich exchange of ideas. Thematically, the play swarms with intelligence and profundity, as Grabiner’s writing weaves a vibrant tapestry of philosophical insights under the umbrella of existentialism. It’s as gripping as it is intellectually stimulating, and its scope is utterly satisfying — ranging from a straightforward survival instinct to a more complex, paradoxical raison d’être, where self-deprecation is the cornerstone of one’s continuance.

The solidity of these elements doesn’t turn the piece into an instant classic. It actually isn’t, and it won’t for the time being. There is work to do — a lot of it. Despite its striking conflict, the text suffers from basic executional issues during the first and third acts.

For the most part of the exposition, the recount comes across as aimless and unappealing. The show starts as a comedy before taking an opposite turn, and it’s not until then that its enticement actually materialises. Prior to that, the script moves at a sluggish pace. Meanwhile, its humour rarely lands. The jokes are either predictable or simply unfunny, leaving us with an uncomfortable impression — they believe they are sharper than they really are.

A similar problem happens during the conclusion. Although still pulsating, it lacks elaborateness. Ideologically, Grabiner delivers a haunting closure to this intriguing metaphysical journey. Dramatically, however, it comes off flat. Many characters’ arcs are left vapidly unresolved. And in the end, both the material’s permeability and endurance are compromised, as its raw essence begins to lean into the undercooked.

Some other aspects of the text flaunt more polish and deftness. The use of diegetic sounds as the show’s underscore is remarkably effective. And in many ways, it’s a stroke of genius. The noise of the Northern Line trains, rolling underneath the personages’ house, accentuates the most piercing excerpts in the piece. At the same time, the meddling buzz of an old heater serves as both the soundtrack and a tension-inducing device.

James Macdonald’s robust direction imbues the company’s visceral performances. Among them, the highest praise goes to Nigel Lindsay, Samuel Blenkin, and Bel Powley, whose emotionally-driven portrayals teem with honesty and pungency, while exuding adequate chemistry as father and siblings.

This is not the perfect play, but sometimes the imperfect makes the strongest impact. The potential of Christmas Day is still on the rise — its transfixing topics and captivating conflict are a gem trapped between two plain, unfinished walls. With the right dramaturgical amendments, the show could evolve from a half-realised promise into a fully fleshed-out paragon. So far, nonetheless, the script mirrors the characters’ feelings of incompletion a little too closely.

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All pictures credit to Marc Brenner.

Christmas Days plays at London’s Almeida Theatre until 8 January. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara