Review: Christmas Day – Almeida Theatre

Intrinsically brave, Christmas Day opens on a Chinese takeaway meal for a reuniting Jewish family. In an office building turned dodgy flat-share, Noah (Samuel Blenkin), his new girlfriend Maude (Callie Cooke), and sister Tamara (Bel Powley) prep their communal room—decorated with a Christmas tree and crackers—for father Elliot (Nigel Lindsay) and Tel Aviv-returned family friend (and ex-boyfriend) Aaron (Jacob Fortune-Lloyd). So writes Charlotte D’Angelo for theQR.co.uk…

Despite the festive decorations, they are here to celebrate a strictly Jewish dinner. Typical family feuding soon turns to riled arguments as acknowledgement of the Gaza conflict endangers the hope of a polite evening.

An honest and confronting family dinner

Writer Sam Grabiner eloquently captures the modern-day Jewish experience, from its roots in exile and exclusion to conflicting Zionist views. He is daring enough to make the connections between Jewish and Palestinian suffering. Tamara makes a toast to the origins of their “merry” tradition: a history spent in hiding from drunken, Christmas-time antisemitic attacks.

It is Tamara who dares to speak out, relating past suffering to the current apartheid. She confronts her father on “what is ours,” grappling with the responsibility of acknowledgement that comes with being a white, middle-class English Jew trying to navigate the threat of “becoming the bad guy.”

He [Writer Sam Graibner] is daring enough to make the connections between Jewish and Palestinian suffering.

Delicately spoken, the subject is handled with sensitivity, offering a range of opinions without denying proven atrocities. Aaron challenges her—her distance from Israel opposing his own sense of belonging—as does her lack of action regarding the conflict. Grabiner expresses the safety Tel Aviv gives him, and the dangers it brings others through his complicity, denial, and later realisation.

Unneeded extravagance

The run-down office set is plagued by the rumble of the Northern Line and a temperamental heater hanging ominously from the ceiling. In this, set designer Miriam Buether captures the true London renting experience. The office rooms provide a large, open space for the action and conversation, using rolling office chairs as funny and practical dinner seats. That heater looms over them, heating up alongside the conversation and opposing the shining Christmas tree. Jon Clark’s lighting complements it appreciably, moving from the red glow of the tree to the flame of the heater and front-facing lighting for the dinner table. Realistic and simple, it mirrors the conflict and emotion of the exposing dialogue.

The production opens with Elliot talking to his offstage son about just why a Christmas tree would be in their dining room. Comedic and timely, it makes a fitting introduction to the themes of the play. Lindsay plays a dramatic Elliot, with an almost panto-filled performance. His opening speech reads as performative; his later lines come with an obvious, expected punchline or reaction. Supposedly constantly scared of other characters’ nonchalant entrances—and delivered with a powerful, heated monologue—it is discerned as an overripe recitation as opposed to a genuine retelling. An older casting choice would have been interesting, possibly giving more reason to his dramatic sudden outbursts, mood changes, and zealous speech, excused by age. But Lindsay, at 56, brings an unconnected, musical-theatre-esque interpretation to the production.

Similarly ‘off-centered’ is the girlfriend, Maude. Despite this being their first encounter, she and Elliot don’t really interact; Maude oddly ignores conversation to set the table while Elliot addresses her. Even if telling of her ditzy behaviour, it moves too fast from her introduction to be read as a realistic first meeting. Cooke brings moments of innocent fun and comedy as the person stuck in the middle of this mess, but the character overall lacks personality. Beyond the out-of-place funny comment or odd behaviour, she doesn’t carry the same development as the others, appearing as a prop to be used as opposed to a fully-fledged person.

Striking, but out of place

The play ends by focusing on Noah and Maude: troubled revelations turn her into an uneasy, dictatorial figure and him into a nakedly vulnerable one. Shocking and grasping—it holds your breath. But it holds your breath for a different play. Captivating as it is to watch the couple finally interact by themselves, they explore a completely different story—one the end of this play isn’t able to delve into fully—resulting in a disjointed conclusion.

It’s evident that director James Macdonald focused on developing specific key visual moments which, although powerful standing alone, don’t always fit in the wider scope of the play. There are long stretches of silence as they eat, and protracted transitions where they light and blow out candles, or Blenkin dripping himself in blood. In a photograph, these are striking images. But within the range of the play, the silences feel unnatural to the otherwise flowing dialogue, and Blenkin’s blood-covered face has little clear motivation. Hard-hitting intentions are evident, but they slightly miss the mark.

aptivating as it is to watch the couple finally interact by themselves, they explore a completely different story—one the end of this play isn’t able to delve into fully—resulting in a disjointed conclusion.

Although it is strange that the drugs causing his panic come to the dinner table so casually and with such instant effect, Blenkin’s acting is still commendable. He is eerily innocent and slowly fraying into disarray. His and Powley’s on-stage sibling dynamic is distinctly accurate, from childish bickering to aggressive name-calling. Powley is the epitome of the “only daughter”: politically active, sheltered yet defiant. She stands alone against her father, bringing up the difficult topics and speaking her mind with emotion—a convincing portrayal of the generational difference and social responsibility an oldest child often faces in defending social progressiveness.

Storytelling supplements brilliant conversation

As a discussion on modern Jewish identity, the connection to religion and culture in relation to the Israeli occupation of Palestinians is discussed as effectively as it could be. Grabiner finds the right balance of opposing opinions, hard facts, and personal connection to the Jewish identity facing English Jews today. Crafted monologues capture the attention and stand as speeches to be remembered.

But the wider story-building elements around this aren’t as polished. Directing choices that highlight overdramatic acting and visual set-pieces struggle to fit with the rhythm of the play.

Christmas Day may break ground as one of the first open Jewish perspectives tackling the Gaza occupation on stage, but as a production, it doesn’t quite reach the same level of refinement as its script.

Featured Image: Almeida Theatre_Christmas Day Artwork_Photographed by Nadav Kander