Review: Studio Theatre’s ‘English’ Says It Just Right
Sanaz Toossi’s debut work arrives in DC with a reminder that home is where the heart (and mother tongue) is
By D.R. Lewis
January 16, 2023
What’s the word for that precious thing that too often gets lost in translation? Ah, yes. Humanity. And such is the case in English, Sanaz Toossi’s simmering meditation on the inextricable ties of language and accents to our senses of self and belonging. Studio Theatre’s production of Toossi’s debut play (premiering last season in a co-production by Atlantic Theatre Company and Roundabout Theatre Company) employs an oscillating series of design contrasts to underscore that sometimes the cost of learning something new is losing something precious.
In its single, taut 90-minute act, English reveals the aspirations of four Iranian students enrolled in a Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL) prep class. Led by their tough and tender teacher (played with razor-sharp precision by Nazanin Nour), the students are instructed to speak, “ENGLISH ONLY”, as emblazoned on a white board several times throughout the show. As they struggle and/or soar in this pursuit, each character wrestles with their motivation for learning this new language, their fears of how the English-speaking world will react to their varied accents, and the implications of this new language on their identities.
Toossi methodically showcases each of her richly earnest characters. Narges Kalogli’s Goli is a hopeful young woman enamored with the English language as a means to express herself. Kalogli is heartbreaking with Goli’s bittersweet confession that she is learning English because, “No one listens to me when I speak Farsi”.
In contrast, Elham, played with biting urgency by Tara Grammy, needs a high TOEFL score to matriculate into an Australian medical school, but resents the racism and xenophobia of English-speaking populations. As she struggles to grasp the language and continually breaks the “English Only” rule, Grammy’s Elham becomes both more prideful and hungry to succeed. She is a worthy adversary for Nour’s measured Marjan, whose cool confidence wavers just as her students prepare to take the test.
They are aptly supported by Maboud Ebrahimzadeh as a withholding Omid and Nina Ameri as a grieving Roya. Roya struggles to pronounce her Canadian granddaughter’s name and mourns her son’s rejection of both his native language and her frequent phone calls. In a gripping moment, when the class faces Marjan’s admission that she was known to English speakers as “Mary” while living in the UK, it is through Roya that Toossi delivers one of the play’s most stirring rebukes: “Our mothers get to name us, not foreigners.”
But where Toossi’s play shines brightest is not in the few explosive moments between characters (save for one shocking reference to a certain Sacha Baron Cohen character), but in the quiet anxiety when a character scrambles for the proper English word. In these silences, the actors steward Toossi’s work most deftly, reminding us that a single facial expression can reveal more about a character than a thousand English words ever could. It is in these moments that those faces signal what learning English really means to these characters: desperation; fear; desire; loss; exposure; hope. It is about so much more than words, sounds, and mouth shapes. It is about how the English-speaking world will hear, and see, them.
“English does not want to be poetry like Farsi,” says Goli in the opening lines of the play, drawing a clear contrast between the two languages. Director Knud Adams’ production at Studio leans into illustrating contrast to great effect. At risk of overdoing it, he does not, allowing the text to “float” (as several characters wistfully describe their cherished mother tongue) easily on its staging and technical elements. While almost the entirety of the play is spoken in English, Adams differentiates between the languages by having the performers speak quickly and clearly to signal when they are “speaking” Farsi, and adopting an accented affect (corresponding to each character’s English proficiency) when they are speaking English. Adams further incorporates deep contrast into the alternating pacing of scenes, which feels like a steady inhale and exhale. For instance, the high-stakes anticipation of a lively group vocabulary game in several instances is offset by mellow scenes where Marjan and her students watch British films and converse quietly.
Adams’ direction is complemented by a team of designers who understand the assignment. Afsoon Pajoufar’s clinical white and windowed classroom fits so snugly in the intimate Milton performance space at Studio Theatre that it feels at times the theater was built around the classroom set. Just outside the classroom is an exterior corridor composed mainly of a long cinderblock wall, a double-door, and a dozen or so green plants, inspiring the sense that when the students enter the corridor from the classroom, they are between worlds. Dina El-Aziz’s understated costumes work similarly, with vibrant, colorful headscarves shining against more muted tones.
But Minjoo Kim’s lighting is the most effective design element. The lights flip seamlessly between harsh, fluorescent brightness during English lessons and soft, warm light in the play’s more tender moments, depriving our eyes of time to adjust, as if moving quickly between languages. The fluorescent light invokes the coldness of the English language that several characters lament; and reminds us that even if they master the language, they will be unable to hide their accents in English-dominated western countries, opening them to discrimination and shaking their sense of belonging. “People like French accents, English accents, not your accent,” Elham says.
English is a stellar introductory work and a promising indicator of what’s to come from Toossi. With this work and another recent premier (Wish You Were Here at Playwrights Horizons), Toossi has secured a spot for herself as a leading artist in bringing Iranian experiences to American stages. Will she continue to build a rich body of work centered around those experiences, a la August Wilson’s Century Cycle, or will she venture into new territory? Whichever path she chooses, I have a good feeling that the work will continue to translate.
Tara Grammy and Maboud Ebrahimzadeh in English. Photo: DJ Corey Photography.