Theater Review (NYC): ‘Twelve Minor Prophets’

Twelve Minor Prophets has two authors and is, coincidentally or not, almost two separate plays grafted together.

The first is a tremendously entertaining gallop through a little-discussed part of the Hebrew Bible, the Book of the Twelve. These are the short “books” of the dozen “minor” prophets who lived between the fifth and eighth centuries BCE, a period that encompassed the first diaspora of the Hebrews and the destruction and rebuilding of the Temple of Jerusalem. These prophets witnessed and warned about wailing and gnashing of teeth before a vindictive, cruel deity, while allowing for a degree of redemption. Each has come down to us with distinctive styles and genres of prophesying and storytelling.

The second, a heavy depiction of a personal and family crisis, emerges from the first like a Lovecraftian beast struggling to be born.

On the surface, the setup of the first section recalls Godspell (the show, not the execrable movie version) – a colorful, part-comical, modern retelling of Biblical material. But the conceit of this new play from the Eno River Players, by Charlie Mayhew and director Leo Egger, is actually rather original.

A Brother, a Sister, a Dream

Brother and sister Jesse and Abby (Jake Fallon and Liat Graf respectively, both excellent) are marking the first anniversary of the death of their biblical-scholar father with a gathering of friends and family (us, the audience). This assembled company is to be treated to a lecture by the scholarly Abby and a rollicking show put on by Jesse and a few of his actor friends. Each explicates in its way the themes that defined their father’s career.

Abby’s talk gives us historical context. But Jesse, driven to anxious hyperactivity by a recurring dream about their father, interrupts to hastily begin staging his show. In it, one by one the 12 prophets come to life in a a variety of modern genres – Western, puppet show, Broadway musical (brilliantly satirized), rom-com, podcast, and so on.

Jesse is a fireball of pain and tension as he emcees and directs the whole semi-organized event. Tension between the siblings and artistic regret among the actor-friends emerge. But for a good while the show wheels along, with hilarity, clever sendups, cute and funny sets and props, wonderful painted backdrops, evocative lighting, and not least, Mayhew’s sharply crafted music (with fine piano accompaniment by Jake Eisner).

From High Spirits to High Priests

Then, as with the ancient Hebrews, things fall apart. One friend (a wonderful Anna Aubry) breaks character and storms off, for reasons we incorrectly assume will become clear. Equally good are Felix Teich and Chani Reese as friends Paul (who we learn has a complex backstory with Jesse) and Diana respectively.

An older fellow (a marvelous Yehuda L. Hyman) with a tool belt arrives to install a curtain – and we shift into the second play. The installer is more than he seems. He evokes for the young people a ritual from ancient Hebrew history, and we wonder: Is he a real Prophet, suddenly manifesting in the 21st century?

His scene mesmerizes. Like much of the second half of the show, though, it is never explained. Further obfuscation arrives with still another figure, an actor hired for the show by Jesse’s friends, and played by Brian Linden, the memorable Duke in the Eno Players’ innovative Measure for Measure last year, who also has some unexplained insight relating to the central characters.

Some mystery can be OK, of course. But the motivations and inner conflicts of characters we are asked to care about shouldn’t remain shrouded, and they do in Jesse’s case, even though he, realized by a powerful performance, is central. With all Fallon’s focus and commitment, the center cannot hold, making the last segment a slog.

Twelve Minor Prophets is worth checking out for its sharply conceived, snappily directed first two-thirds; its high-quality production in a small, friendly venue; and its top-flight performances and music. It runs through February 28, 2026 at JACK in Brooklyn.