Review: English, Sanaz Toossi’s Pulitzer Prize-Winning Drama, Bows on Broadway

“No one hates this language more than I hate,” says Elham, the prickly protagonist of Sanaz Toossi’s Pulitzer Prize-winning drama English, now making its Broadway debut at the Todd Haimes Theatre. It’s co-produced by Roundabout Theatre Company and Atlantic Theater Company, which hosted the 2022 off-Broadway run. As in that world premiere, Elham is played by the ferocious Tala Ashe, who conveys in her penetrating gaze and combat-ready posture the combustible ambition of the global striving class.

Everyone in the English-language class around which this beautifully woven drama is draped is reaching for something, but it is a testament to Toossi’s delicate hand as a storyteller that those objectives—the things that these characters really want, not just what they say they want—are not immediately apparent. Superficially, these residents of Karaj, Iran, would like to pass the TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language), a certification that they can communicate fluently in the global language and a first step out of Iran. But their reasons for wanting to leave (if they even really want that) are a source of beguiling fascination.

At just 18, Goli (Ava Lalezarzadeh) seems to have the most open roads ahead of her. She presents to the class a hilarious literary analysis of the Ricky Martin song “She Bangs,” which Lalezarzadeh milks for all its worth, leaving the audience in stitches.

Fifty-something Roya (Pooya Mohseni) has a son in Canada and insists she will be joining him there as soon as she can comply with his house rule: only English can be spoken in front of his young daughter. Mohseni armors her character in the pride that comes naturally to a woman of means and whose child is living the lifestyle to which her young classmates aspire. And she courageously maintains her dignity even as it becomes clear that there is no room for mom in the son’s Canadian dream.

The effortlessly charming Hadi Tabbal plays Omid, who speaks near-perfect, lightly accented English. He seems well-prepared for the green card interview he says he has coming up in Dubai, but Elham detects something fishy about this nice guy with flirty eyes. The fact that he stays after class to watch English rom-coms with the teacher is the least of it.

Marjan Neshat plays that teacher (also named Marjan) with a sunny disposition that seems meant to irradiate the cloudiness in her heart. Marjan lived in Manchester for nearly a decade and a part of her soul is clearly still there, which is perhaps why she teaches this class. Her reasons for returning to Iran (marriage? material comfort? the security that comes with being a native speaker in the ethnic majority?) are never made explicit. But it is impossible to ignore the aroma of middle-aged regret that envelops her performance, the recognition that not all roads are open anymore. Her tense exchanges with Elham are a great source of electricity in this quietly captivating drama.

It’s Ashe’s performance that will stick with me the longest. Her rapid-fire delivery and furious glare underline the stakes of every warm-up game and practice conversation. Elham has already been accepted to med school in Australia, and the TOEFL is the missing piece in her escape plan. But like all heroes, her greatest strength also exposes her to peril: She can see through the chador of bullshit everyone wears as a defense mechanism and cannot help but point out what is underneath.

“In Farsi, you balance yourself out,” says Roya after Elham suggests that the Canadian son is ignoring her calls, “But wherever you land, you’re going to have quite a hard time adjusting. Because in English, you won’t have redeeming qualities.” In this moment, Roya proves that she can also weaponize her classmate’s insecurities.

In the hands of a lesser actor, Elham could very well come off as irredeemable—a self-involved bully who finds herself unable to rise to the top of the class but finds satisfaction in tearing others down. But Ashe never lets us lose sight of her character’s deeply relatable humanity. Despite her flaws, she keeps fighting for her future and that gives us someone to cheer for. Her rage becomes our rage as she perseveres on a playing field tiled against her.

The entire original cast has journeyed with the production to Broadway, and of their performances are sharper and more resonant than ever before under the sensitive and steady direction of Knud Adams. Enver Chakartash’s costumes deliver 21^st-century Iranian streetwear tailored to each character’s personality. Marsha Ginsberg’s rotating classroom set allows us to see the performances from many angles, with Reza Behjat’s naturalistic light penetrating the curtains and giving us a sense of the passage of time. The effect is balletic when paired with Zinan Refik Zafar’s underscoring, which begins with contemplative piano music in the scene transitions and later expands to the fully symphonic. Everything about this production is strikingly beautiful.

And that may seem false to some viewers considering how ugly the sweepstakes of birth and history has always been.  “I have this amazing dream sometimes that the Persian Empire kept growing,” Elham says, reveling in the fantasy that American and British kids would have to learn Farsi to be part of the global conversation. But it’s just a fantasy. There’s precious little any of us can do to alter the world historical forces that have gotten us to the present age of global anxiety, but you can position yourself to weather the storm and even thrive through it. English is a tribute to the brave people who set out to do that every day.