The Holy Rosenbergs review, The Cottesloe.

Londoners living in the NW1 to NW9 postcodes are Jewish by osmosis.  Straddling as they do the boundaries of posh, monied West London; tough, trendy East London and safe, surburban North London, they are misfits. As a result they spend a lot of time deconstructing the big picture in order to make sense of the small. Or is it the other way around? It is a natural home for writers and psychoanalysts, for journalists, politicians and chancers.  The Holy Rosenbergs is a slice of NW London Jewish life in which a failing father and his dysfunctional family are pitched against the expectations of synagogue and community.

A plateful of trouble

Henry Goodman as head of the Rosenberg clan is compelling. A man fighting demons at all levels, his catering business is going down the pan, one son is a waster and the other has been killed fighting with the Israeli Army. Meanwhile his lawyer daughter, Ruth, is compiling a report on Israel's war crimes in Gaza. We meet the family on the eve of his son's funeral, when a family friend comes round to warn David Rosenberg that if Ruth attends the service, the local community will stage a protest against her.

We have the ingredients, then, for a cracking couple of hours of drama. So: why does it die a death within sixty minutes?  The real problem is that playwright, Ryan Craig, doesn't know what to do with all the loose ends. The script mirrors real life and the arguments within the Jewish community, but the job of the dramatist is to illuminate and progress arguments, not simply to showcase them.

Conclusion: Those who recognise the scenario will get pleasure from looking in at one remove, but if you are neither Jewish nor from North West London, you may feel the play is nothing more than a couple of hours of rather dull soul searching that fails to illuminate or inspire.

References

Charles Spencer in the Telegraph (2 stars)

Michael Billington in the Guardian (4 stars)