‘Ajax’ @ Amphibian Stage
Art courtesy of Amphibian Stage; photos by Evan Michael Woods
—Jan Farrington
A courtyard in Tehran, 1953. The extraordinary beauty and calm of Leah Mazur’s set for playwright Habib Yazdi’s Ajax at Amphibian Stage is an unspoken lament for what might have been—an allegory of sorts, an American history lesson—and a rebuke. That the play is full of laughter as well (though more rueful laughter as scene follows scene) makes the story more bearable, but ultimately fades into silence in the face of actions that can’t be undone.
Ajax is a story told sideways, a fanciful but penetrating look at what the United States—what we—did to the nationalist, democratically elected government of Iran (and its people) back in the day (in the 1950s, when our shiny postwar status as the global superpower was awkwardly flexing its muscles). Directed with fierce intelligence by Kareen Fahmy, it’s a tale that will roll around in the mind, confusing and painful, until some other, newer global mess (so many to choose from) pulls our eyes in another direction.
In the quiet courtyard (it seems to be a “guest house” of sorts) we find Kambiz (Shayan Hooshmand), tidying tables and zipping to the courtyard’s reflecting pool to net each flower petal and leaf as it falls. Pristine is the order of the day. Handsome young Kambiz is full of aphorisms: on the guiding principle of his work, “Guests are God’s beloved,” or, delivered with every cup of tea or tidbit of food, “May it nourish your soul.” He and the Pool (we find actor Jovane Caamaño sitting serenely at the edge, hmm) seem to have a tender but complicated relationship.
Enter a sweaty American, Kermit (Carson Wright), dropping briefcase, plopping on the chaise, slurping an iced drink. He is startled by Kambiz’ exquisite manners and well-performed rituals, and immediately sets out to make American casual the vibe, despite Kambiz’ (and the Pool’s) quiet disapproval. “Call me Kim,” says Kermit—but “Mr. Kim” is as far as Kambiz will go. The American guest is a salesman, perhaps? From the briefcase he pulls a portable AC, but we’re not at all sure that’s his “product.”
Yazdi’s dialogue has a dazzlingly quick pace, akin to the impromptu “tennis” volleys the characters take up when they have lots to say. It’s a joy to watch Hooshmand and Wright put through the paces of Kambiz’ education sessions for Kermit on how things are said and done in Iran, and Kermit’s a quick study—so quick we begin to wonder why he needs to be up on all this detail.
Is Kermit (a grandson of Theodore Roosevelt) a spy or a businessman—or a well-meaning pro-Arab citizen concerned that an Iran slipping away from its ties to Western Europe (Britain, primarily) be persuaded that U.S. friendship is the next best thing? (In 1951, Kermit founded the American Friends of the Middle East, an Arabist propaganda group later tagged as secretly funded and largely managed by the CIA.)
The tutorial in Iranian manners gives way to bigger questions from Kermit: Just how would I get an invitation to meet the Shah’s sister, who loves money and might have her brother’s ear? Would the Shah himself see me? What do “the people” feel about the premier Mossaddegh, the prime mover of Iran’s take-back of control/income from its gigantic oil supply (long managed by the UK and its friends)?
Kambiz is a strong supporter of the socially progressive premier: Mossaddegh, he tells Kermit, gave low-level workers like him better pay and living conditions, and prohibited forced labor and punishing hours. “If you’re asking me about Communism,” says Kambiz…that’s not what this was.
In dizzying short order, Kermit (somewhere along the way we realize his last name is Roosevelt, and he has the family’s low expectations to combat; true history there) does take a meeting with the Princess, and does meet the thirty-something Shah (David Mattar Merten), who never seems to be out of his workout clothes. Wright and Marten are another amusing (and potentially volatile) pair. The Shah seems content to lollygag about the palace and let Mossadegh do the work and confront “the people). Still, the eager eyes tell us he’s instantly alert to Kermit’s other ideas about his future. These two are playing with fire, but treating one another as lightly as old frat buddies getting together.
From then until the last tableau, playwright Yazdi keeps movement at high speed. Enter American ambassador Loy (Randy Pearlman), a pleasantly cynical veteran of the diplomatic wars, but oddly persuadable by young whippersnapper Kermit. The word “coup” is in the air, at first something “bloodless”—Operation Ajax was its name—and then another, not bloodless, that pulls in fervent young Iranian patriots. At the end, you’ll see American self-satisfaction standing tall at the forefront…but don’t miss the grim pietà in the background.
How many times will we do this? After all these years, no answer in sight.
WHEN: October 14-November 1, 2026
WHERE: 120 South Main Street, Fort Worth
WEB: https://amphibianstage.com/
[Kudos to the Ajax creative team: Sherese Reed’s directorial assistance; Sarah Mosher’s character-informing costumes; Omar Madkour and David Lanza’s evocative lighting and sound; and to Justin Miller (special props), who I think must have found the wonderful radio, a time-traveling object that brought back this confusing Cold-War-and-poodle-skirt era]
