REVIEW: Prayer for the French Republic (Theater J)

I knew that the name Joshua Harmon, author of Prayer for the French Republic, sounded familiar. In 2019 I caught his drama Admissions at Studio — a lot’s happened since those days, and I wasn’t reviewing then so I barely remember it. But I do remember being impressed by how quickly he was able to give his characters dimension and establish high stakes. And Republic, recently nominated for Best Play at the Tonys, continues this penchant. Theater J is showcasing this dense, three-act family play through Thanksgiving week, so I wanted to catch it before it closed.

Book

In 2016 France, the Salaman family is the current iteration of a millennium-old Jewish family in Paris. Presidential candidate Marie Le Pen’s far-right shadow looms. The family tradition of piano making is on the brink. Shortly after a distant American cousin, Molly, arrives to visit, the recently-devout son Lucien is victim of an anti-Semitic attack. The father, Charles, has had it: the family must move to Israel, for their own safety.

This catalyzes the fluid dynamics of the next three hours, continually posing the question: “Where are Jews safe?” In the wake of October 7th, there’s a lot more weight to the question, and Harmon seems to have predicted something of this sort (the play premiered in 2022). I’ll be frank: this “both-sides” approach may turn some viewers off. But even still, the streak of Zionism that is visible in many of the character motivations is attempted to be balanced by Molly’s secular Americanisms. Their ultimate effectiveness is nonetheless up for debate, as her New World Naiveté is a source of ridicule by her relatives, potentially signaling her “idiocy” to the audience. Granted: she does have an ultraliberal virtue-signaling tendency, almost like a hodgepodge of the "social justice warrior” maligned among the American center. Ultimately, her introduction as the bridge between the French and American Jew did not reach its fullest potential, which is disappointing given how much flavor the primary family is. Particularly so is the hotheaded daughter Elodie, who is Molly’s biggest critic and has one of the most outstandingly performed monologues I’ve seen in a show this year. The dynamic between Luicien and Molly is uncomfortably romantic from the start— they’re cousins, as the show forgets to remind us— but it’s never given any consideration to be empathetic (like say, the attempts from Game of Thrones). Arguably the finest character in the piece is the matriarch Marcelle, initially very apprehensive to the idea of uprooting her life to go to the Middle East and spends the entire show grappling about its ramifications. Her writing is switft, deep, and often the only piece tying many of these flying pieces together. For all that’s happening, my chief concern is that three acts seems a bit much; the same ideas could have been expressed with an hour’s less content, in my opinion. 6/10

Acting

The ensemble is an excellent assortment of locals and out-of-towners. As always, though, I’d wish to see more of the latter. The good news is that two of them — Ethan J. Miller’s Lucien and Dani Stoller’s Elodie, the siblings— are pure standouts. Miller, having been a favorite part of mine from the recent local staging of The Waverly Gallery, affirms himself as one of the most nimbly mature actors in the DMV with his feaux--suave take on Lucien. Additionally, he doubles-up by skillfully playing Daniel, Lucien’s ancestor who grapples with his recent return from a concentration camp circa 1945. Unlike Miller, Stoller doesn’t expand beyond Elodie, but her Act II monologue is tiresome, gripping, and imperfect; but at all times spectacularly presented. (It bugs me how little her character is utilized given how much she has to say and how much chutzpah Stoller gives.) 8/10

Production

Haley Finn’s direction makes sure to put the story first. This goes both ways: on one hand, the sterile sets that tantilize with detailed props feel unworn, but it does not ever distract from the snappy blocking onstage. Colin K. Bills’ lighting picks up a lot of the slack, though, creating effective moods and time indicators. 6/10

Viz

It’s not exactly screaming its story via marketing materials, but there’s a good establishment of setting via the silhouettes of a Jewish family and their Parisian backdrop on the program. The scrim is a snow-white flat in Paris, the only adornment worth noting being the piano. 5/10

Verdict

At three hours and two intermissions, Republic somehow still feels too big for its britches; but things go by quickly, and you have some fascinating performances to enjoy all the while. 25/40