Asaf (Josh Radnor) argues with Nakia (Cherise Boothe, right) as Rachel (Madeline Weinstein, center) looks on.
The Ally is eminently watchable, although it seems like it shouldn’t be. Unless, that is, you go to the theater to be lectured on geopolitical issues. Itamar Moses’ new drama runs more than 2½ hours, and you might feel like you spend about two hours of it watching one character, who’s speaking to another person on stage, deliver a speech that elucidates a stance on the Israel-Palestine conflict, complete with historical references, geographical context, statistics and preemptive rebuttals.
Reuven (Ben Rosenfield, left) confronts Asaf (Radnor): “What would be the result of making Israel vulnerable, simultaneously on three sides and from within, to groups dedicated to her destruction?”
The play takes place in September 2023: Moses wrote it before the Oct. 7 Hamas attacks and the ensuing war in Gaza. This gives it an interesting air of foreboding, but also dates it.
Josh Radnor stars as Asaf, the Berkeley-raised son of Israeli immigrants. His Korean American wife, Gwen (Joy Osmanski), was recently hired as administrator of community relations and external affairs at a university with a history of displacing and disempowering local populations of color. Asaf, a writer, teaches as an adjunct at the school. This unnamed college town to which Gwen and Asaf have moved just happens to be where his ex-girlfriend Nakia (Cherise Boothe) lives. And Nakia, who has had no contact with Asaf for 20 years, happens to be the author of a social justice manifesto he is asked to sign.
Penned in the wake of an innocent Black man’s killing by local police, the manifesto comprises 20 pages of antiracism, anti-imperialism, and anticapitalism imperatives. Asaf, a proudly progressive Jew, wholeheartedly supports the manifesto—except for its use of apartheid and genocide to describe Israeli policies. As he points out:
Other countries are mentioned in the context of America doing terrible things there, but Israel is the only country whose own policies are condemned—not “We shouldn’t be involved there ’cause of what we do” but rather “We shouldn’t be involved ’cause of what they do.”
From there, Asaf has his beliefs challenged, his liberal bona fides questioned, his words possibly misinterpreted. And Radnor must play several scenes where he stands for an extended period of time, barely moving or speaking, while another character expounds a viewpoint. Reuven Fisher (Ben Rosenfield), a doctoral student in Judaic studies, harangues him for underestimating the role of anti-Semitism in criticism of Israel. An undergraduate named Farid el Masry (Michael Khalid Karadsheh) airs the Palestinians’ side. Neither has real character development—they serve as mouthpieces. Rachel Klein, student organizer of Jews for Independent Thought, does have some personality, thanks to Madeline Weinstein’s portrayal of a perky earnestness that’s as annoying as it is admirable. But she also is there mainly to voice opinions.
“Asaf has his beliefs challenged, his liberal bona fides questioned, his words possibly misinterpreted.”
It’s too bad Moses opted for so much speechifying instead of fleshing out the interpersonal stories, because the show gets a bigger charge from the exchanges between characters—even (or especially) when they’re about politics—than from all the monologues. One underserved plot thread involves Baron (Elijah Jones), Asaf’s former student who brings him the manifesto. Flattered, for professional and self-reverential reasons, that a Black person might see him as a mentor, Asaf is oblivious to Baron’s true priorities (hint: it’s not the screenplay he wrote for Asaf’s class)—a scenario ripe for exploration and introspection, not just argument.
Not enough comes of Asaf’s two personal relationships that do get attention. He and Gwen mostly explain things to each other (for the audience’s benefit) or discuss trivial topics; when they deal with an emotionally deeper aspect of their marriage, it comes out of nowhere or is inadequately developed. Asaf and Nakia’s relationship, meanwhile, turns out to be a red herring—their behavior hints at a lingering attraction, and they rehash old resentments, but ultimately it’s only the politics that count.
Student activists Rachel (Weinstein), Farid (Michael Khalid Karadsheh) and Baron (Elijah Jones) in Itamar Moses’ The Ally. Photographs by Joan Marcus.
It also might have been worth addressing the generation gap, since many of Asaf’s challengers are decades younger than he is—though the script gets some laughs out of Rachel’s continually dismissing Asaf’s comments with hashtaggy terms like pinkwashing and what-about-ing.
Lila Neugebauer has directed The Ally so one scene flows into the next: characters come on stage as the previous scene is finishing, and Asaf (on stage virtually the entire time) simply turns to begin a new interaction. The stage is bare except for one chair—which is sufficient until the last scene, where middle-aged adults sit on the floor, in a room that would most likely have seating for them.
Asaf shares that scene with a character heretofore not part of the story, and she, too, unloads her insights. The Ally definitely gives its audience plenty to learn, and reconsider. Too much of it, however, comes in the form of diatribes that sound overly researched and rehearsed for people speaking extemporaneously.
The Ally runs through March 24 at the Public Theater (425 Lafayette St.). Performances are at 7 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, with matinees at 1 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. For tickets and more information, visit publictheater.org/productions/season/2324/the-ally
Playwright: Itamar Moses
Direction: Lila Neugebauer
Sets: Lael Jellinek
Costumes: Sarita Fellows
Lighting: Reza Behjat
Sound: Bray Poor
