The Face of Farce: Jewish Humor in American Film

There’s an old Yiddish joke I recently heard for the first time. I think it’s absolutely hilarious, but only one other person I know finds it even remotely funny, and believe me, I’ve tried it out on more people than I like to admit. It goes as follows:

“What is purple, whistles, and hangs on a wall?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“A herring.”

 “But a herring isn’t purple.”

 “So? Paint it purple.”

“But a herring doesn’t hang on a wall.”

“So hang it on a wall.”

“But a herring doesn’t whistle.”

 “Nu? For one little technicality you ruin my joke?”

I know, I know. It’s an example of what my sister calls “Kvetch humor,” or a joke that revolves around whiny people being petty. Honestly, I like to think of it as working around obvious problems to try to make a fit, albeit an unnatural one, but maybe that’s stretching it a little. And now that you’ve all had a good groan, it’s time to get to my post here.

My relationship with Jewish jokes is as love-hate as the stereotypical marriage said humor often depicts. As with all types of comedy, I believe the Jewish kind has its hits and misses. Some examples make me laugh with familiarity, while others make me cringe in a sort of defensive shame. What can I do, it’s targeting an ethnicity, and one I’m rather invested in. Naturally, there are situations when its very use is offensive and inappropriate.

But I’m not talking about anti-Semites making snide comments, a pun at a funeral, or a race joke gone too far. What’s to ponder there? I’m speaking more about that sort of mark of Judaism, at least in American media. It’s been pointed out before by various people that a seemingly inordinate number of Jews go into show business, or more specifically, comedy. 

(Note: This post specifically addresses Jewish Humor in modern American film, not literature or the original Yiddish works, which are rich and amazing in their own way, but I don't know nearly enough about to discuss here.)

We’ve got the greats, like the Marx Brothers, the Three Stooges, Jackie Mason, Jerry Seinfeld, Gilda Radner… the list goes on and on. Then there are the token Jewish characters on TV shows like The Big Bang Theory, Friends, and The Simpsons. It seems that the Jewish relationship to humor is natural and deep-rooted.

And yet, if we watch these shows without any real knowledge or experience with Jewish culture, a rather nasty stereotype emerges. Heck, a visitor to Earth learning about mankind through these TV shows would assume there were only three kinds of Jews in the world.

The well-meaning, but ultimately clueless authority figure (see below, the Rabbi in ‘Radio Days’):

The overbearing mother (see The Big Bang Theory, Friends, The Nanny, Dharma and Greg, every single show, comic, or movie to feature a Jewish mother):

The nebbish nerd/hypochondriac who still lives with said overbearing mother (see The Big Bang Theory, Scrubs, any Woody Allen movie):

All of these are Kvetchers/complainers and neurotic. In fact, these stereotypes are so widespread one has to wonder whether the nebbishes and rabbis all marry each others’ mothers, since apparently all Jewish females are lox-eating, spanx-wearing mamas in their sixties.

Sometimes I wonder whether the repetition of the old jokes and characters of our culture have helped or hurt us in the eyes of the world. Have they made us more accessible? Sympathetic? Or have they just made us look like a bunch of whiny buffoons and Disney sidekicks? 

Like any good joke, I believe the reaction depends on how well (and with what intention) you tell it. 

Let’s compare two greats of the genre, shall we? Contemporaries, who have been lauded by critics and audiences alike…and leave aside their personal lives and career bests and worsts. Let’s have a look at Allen Konigsberg and Melvin Kaminsky, better known as Woody Allen and Mel Brooks.

Oh, Woody. Never has there been a writer I so long to both laud and slap upside the head. If you’ve never seen a Woody Allen movie, I recommend you do so, and soon. Just make sure it’s one of the “good ones,” and that you aren’t too defensive about your Jewishness. You see, Woody Allen is the stereotypical nebbish case, a little guy with a stammer and thick glasses, the ugly duckling surrounded by tall, beautiful, New York WASPS. His humor ranges from gross and lowbrow to intellectual and refined (I strongly favor the latter), and his writing, when it’s good, is top notch.

If only, if only, he weren’t so...well, Jewish. Woody Allen has the seemingly uncontrollable tendency to bring up his background in embarrassing and needlessly cruel ways, in places where it doesn’t belong. It’s like he just wants the world to know that yes, he was born this way, but only because he didn’t have a say in it. Take, for example, an otherwise good movie called ‘Radio Days,’ a nostalgic look back at New York City in the 1940s, the world in which Allen Konigsberg grew up. A Jewish mother catches her young son listening to the radio, and worries about the effect it will have on his studies. So off she drags him to the rabbi, who instantly asks, “Have you been hitting him?”

Unabashed, the woman replies, “Yes, but it hasn’t helped.”

“So hit him harder.”

And an exchange ensues, which I assume is supposed to be funny, in which the rabbi and these parents argue over who can hit the kid harder. This exchange left me wide-eyed with confusion and revulsion, but not surprise. In most of his films, Woody Allen’s biographical character is one to be pitied, intelligent in spite of his background, and yet somehow, always notably full of sexual stamina (you read that right. I wonder if he wants to prove anything).  

So why do I bother with his movies at all? Well, it’s because he’s produced some excellent stuff, mostly when he’s behind the camera, and especially when he doesn’t make any mention of Judaism at all (see “Midnight in Paris”).

On to Mel Brooks. If Woody Allen has his highbrow moments… well, Brooks doesn’t. His work revolves around film parodies and body-function humor, often with gratuitous mention of certain anatomical areas. But where Allen prefers the company of the rich, Fifth Avenue crowd, Brooks surrounds himself with his fellow Jews. Some of his best works star the likes of Gene Wilder, Marty Feldman, and Madeline Kahn, all comic greats of the Hebrew Nation. And where Woody’s Jew-jokes are often spiteful, Mel’s seem to ring with a genuine affection. When the wise Rabbi Tuckerman in Robin Hood, Men in Tights exclaims “Let’s bless things ‘til we get feshnickered!”, we don’t feel guilty laughing about it. And while he also takes every occasion to take at a stab at his background, he’s also an equal-opportunity offender. Brooks isn’t pointing out Jewish ridiculousness, just ridiculousness in general.

In both cases, I believe the directors do their best Jew-humor when it’s subtle, that is, not labeled as “Jewish”. Take, for example, the opening scenes of Allen’s Annie Hall and Brooks’ Young Frankenstein. 

In the former, a worried-looking Allen looks directly at the camera and summarizes his life in two old jokes:

“Two elderly women are at a Catskill mountain resort, and one says, "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know; and such small portions." Well, that's essentially how I feel about life - full of loneliness, and misery, and suffering, and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly.”

 “The other important joke…is usually attributed to Groucho Marx; but, I think it appears originally in Freud's "Wit and Its Relation to the Unconscious,"…"I would never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member." That's the key joke of my adult life, in terms of my relationships…” 

 There’s something to be said for the great use of these two clearly Jewish jokes to illustrate a broad topic, without actually screaming from the rooftops that this is the Jewish experience.

In Young Frankenstein, the film opens on a college biology classroom, where Dr. Frederick Frankenstein, the infamous scientist’s great-grandson (played by the incomparable Gene Wilder), is discussing the central nervous system. A student raises his hand and addresses the doctor as “Dr. Frankenstein.” Frederick turns from the blackboard and, with a wild-eyed look of revulsion only Mr. Wilder can pull off, hisses:

Something about the defensiveness of the remark speaks volumes about the minds who came up with it. A man who wishes only to be judged for his own work, and not that of his ancestry, is so bogged-down and jaded that he cannot stand to even share a pronunciation with that well-known relative. If that one sentence doesn’t echo the new-immigrant in America experience, I don’t know what does. Not a single character in Young Frankenstein is labeled "Jewish," and yet it drips with the flavor of Jewish humor (a result, no doubt, of both writers and most of the actors being members of the tribe).

I’d make that a rule of thumb: when in doubt, the flavor of Jewish humor goes a lot farther than the stereotypes and the direct finger-pointing. Some of my favorite bits of Jewish humor in comedy come from decidedly non-Jewish characters and sources. Futurama’s resident giant lobster, Dr. Zoidberg is a paragon of Jewish nebbishness, despite literally being treif (“Friends! I finally found a new shell! It looks just like my old one, and it was in the same dumpster, but THIS one had a live raccoon in it!”). The old man in the barbershop of Eddie Murphy’s Coming to America closes the film with one of the most fabulously terrible bits of Kvetch humor I’ve ever heard.

But my favorite bit of pure Jewish comedy gold must come from William Goldman’s The Princess Bride, where the fairy tale characters end up at the home of the mystic Miracle Max, played in layers of makeup by Billy Crystal. Miracle Max and his wife Valerie have only one short scene, and yet display one of the most impressive old-married-couple arguments in all of film. (Watch that link. Really.)

Gold. In my opinion, it just doesn’t get better than this.

But as for Jewish humor on the whole, what can I say? On the one hand, I genuinely love that we are a group known for its humor (there are far worse things to be known for, after all). But on the other, I sometimes flinch at how that humor is used, and at the way we Jews are viewed because of it. This misuse or negative spin used to disturb me so much that I couldn’t even sit through Blazing Saddles. It took me years to appreciate Jewish humor for what it is, a legacy of using laughter to get through some of the more difficult parts of reality. 

It’s kind of a grown-up version of what our parents taught us in Kindergarten: if your classmates are teasing you, you can sit and cry (which will only encourage them), or you can laugh with them and shut them up good.  And when your history is as sad and scary as ours and it seems like people hate you for no good reason, your choices are limited. You can become depressed, removed, and bitter, or you can try to laugh at the absurdity and hope for, someday, a miracle. 

Jewperheroes

The story goes like this.

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai (the Rashbi) was a great spiritual leader and teacher to many Jews in Israel in the days of the Romans. Unfortunately, the Romans had outlawed the teaching of Torah and Jewish practice. But Rashbi persevered, unperturbed by the threat of torture and crucifixion, and spoke out against their decrees. 

One day, as with all stories, the Rabbi’s enemies found out about his actions and placed a price on his head. So Rashbi, along with his son, R’ Eleazar, hid in the Beit Midrash. They taught whoever they could and learned as much as they were able. Their wives and daughters snuck them food and kept them savvy of goings on in the outside world. But then came the time when they could no longer stay in their beloved Beis.

The Rabbi and his son fled. For the safety of their loved ones, they told no one of their destination. The duo found a deep cave, with a fresh spring for water and a carob tree growing outside for sustenance. There they spent a full year, discussing the mystical secrets of creation and the Torah. 

Throughout that year, Rashbi and R’ Eleazar explored the deepest chasms of the hidden scripture, until enough time had passed that they could risk stepping out into the world again.

Upon emerging, they were greeted with the sight of a Jewish farmer, working the land. But this was the Shabbat day, and such work was strictly forbidden on the day of rest by Jewish law. Offended for his G-d and full of righteous anger, Rashbi called out to the farmer.

But the farmer did not stop.

A searing anger passed through the Rabbi, and before he could say another word or knew what was happening, a light burst from his eyes and engulfed the farmer, reducing him to ashes or knocking his head off or something else fatal but nonetheless impressive.

And a voice emerged as if from nowhere, rebuking the Rabbi. For you see, he had gained so much power from G-d's mystical secrets, but he had no idea how to harness it (it was G-d's power after all). And so the voice sent the Rabbi and his son back into their cave for another twelve years, so that they may learn to use their gifts for good. And legend has it that when they emerged, Rashbi brought with him the secrets of the Zohar, the definitive book of Kabbalah (Jewish Mysticism). And he was, for the rest of his life, one of the greatest Jewish leaders of his time.

This story is from the Gemarah (Bavli, Shabbat, 33b for those who care. Look! I did my research!), but it sounds very much like a variation on any modern comic book origin story. Think about it. A mild-mannered hero is faced with an ethical dilemma, and chooses the path of least resistance. This only draws out his enemies, and so in order to protect his loved ones, he must go into isolation, honing his skills, until he emerges with uncanny abilities. But unprepared to use them, he trains himself further and vows to use his power only for good.

When you think about it, Rashbi is the first Jewish superhero (complete with laser vision!), and really it’s kind of cool, considering the rich history of Jews and tales of supermen. Lest you think it all started when two nice Jewish boys created Superman, let me remind you of Rabbi Loew of Prague and his magical Golem.  And that's just one of the most famous stories. Jewish folklore is filled with legends of mighty heroes emerging during their people’s time of need to protect the innocent and defeat the forces of oppression. Most of these are myths, some of them are based on real figures, but the fact remains that the superhero genre was as Jewish as gefilte fish long before Stan Lee and Jack Kirby drew their first panel of X-Men.

I suppose this is to be expected. A people wandering from place to place, dreaming of having a home of their own, getting persecuting wherever they go… for sure they dreamed of having some armored titan there to stand in the face of determined crusaders, Spanish Inquisitors, and charging Cossacks. And tragic as the need for such stories is, we’ve been fortunate enough to inherit the imagination, and on occasion the stories themselves, from our ancestors.

Which brings us to the modern comic book, an especially “Jewish” cultural medium, at least judging by the giants of the genre. I’ve already mentioned the creators of Superman. Stan “Lieber” Lee and Jack “Kurtzberg” Kirby, two true New York Jews, created titles such as Spiderman, The Fantastic Four, The Incredible Hulk, and of course, The X-Men. Even the great graphic novel series, Sandman, has Hebrew geneology in the form of Neil Gaiman to thank for its existence.

The history of Jews and comic books has always fascinated me as both a Jew and an Art Major. Last year, I was lucky enough to intern for one of the larger distributors of the comic book industry, where I had plenty of assignments to read through comics from every source, from way back decades. And I began to notice a pattern, not so much in the Jewish themes of the comics (which, addressing subjects such as acceptance, fear, and prejudice are rather obvious for this post’s brevity) but in the characters themselves. 

(Note: I could go on for hours about Jewish Folklore and its influence on modern culture and comics' Jewish themes, but another time. For the remainder of this post, I will be focusing on the depiction of Jews in the comics.) 

Two of the most famous Jewish comic book characters, Erik “Magneto” Lehnsherr and Kitty “Shadowcat” Pryde are both featured in the X-Men books, the former as a villain/antihero and the latter as a member of the main team. Both are well-written, developed, and enormously popular, and have been featured in multiple TV shows and movies.

There are several other Jewish characters in the comics: Legion, The Thing, Sabra, Batwoman, and Iceman, among others (Yes, this took way too much Wikipedia and Comic Site research). But the Jewishness of these characters (with the exception of Sabra), is a minor detail at best, mentioned in passing. And none of them, none, are shown to be observant. At their “frummest” they are Israeli and mildly affiliated (not Reform or Conservative or Orthodox, just affiliated), but mostly they are presented as ‘agnostics of Jewish descent.’ Even Kitty Pryde, the de facto Jew of the X-Men, is only mentioned as Jewish a handful of times in the... what, 30 years she’s been around. My favorite of these is when she has to fend off a vampire, not with a cross like her teammates, but with a Star of David. Wow, writers. Thanks for the shout-out. Otherwise, she bears the same amount of Jewishness as most other TV and book series Jews do: she lights Hanukkah candles come the Holiday special. 

And I appreciate those shout-outs. I do. I am thrilled (nearly) every time a proud Jewish character is introduced. These are not negative depictions of Jews by any means (not even Magneto, in my opinion), and I am by no means trying to accuse the comic industry of any bias or anti-Semitic sentiment. But sometimes, I just have to flinch and wonder, is that it? But I’ll address my issues with what I call the “Hanukkah Special Jew” another time. I’m not here to talk about that.

I'd like to talk about Arsenic.

During my internship, I was introduced to a relatively obscure comic series called The Runaways, which featured teenage superheroes locked in a cathartic battle with their supervillain parents. What awkward Thanksgivings they must have. The series features characters in a variety of races, religions, and sexual orientations, even, for seemingly the first time, a “fat” female protagonist. 

Gertrude “Arsenic” Yorkes (well, there’s a Jewish name if I’ve ever heard one... Eye roll...), is the sarcastic, witty, “ugly girl” of the group (I don’t see a female Woody Allen here at ALL). Don't get me wrong, she's a great character, but...well...

Her parents are about as stereotyped as you can get: overbearing, constantly arguing, throwing around terms like “Gevalt” and “Meshugas” like confetti…oh, and evil. All of the runaways struggle with their faith and backgrounds, but Arsenic is the only one to completely reject her ancestry, and to be adamant about it. She repeatedly insists that she is agnostic, at one point hesitating to save an innocent’s soul (and life) because she doesn’t want  to take a risk for something she might not believe in. For a large chunk of the series, she refuses to use her given name (although, to her defense, that name is Gert Yorkes), in order to cut ties with her parents and her past. In my comic-book reading experience (which despite this post is actually quite limited), she’s the closest character I’ve ever seen to a self-hating Jew… or really, a self-hating any faith.

   

All of these characters, and I can’t help but ask: couldn’t one of them have actually been, you know, religious? Now, I’m not saying give them payot and Smicha and end every sentence with “Baruch Hashem.” Really, I would be very happy to see a Reform Jewish character who… I don’t know… prays every once in a while, or discusses their beliefs even once with some pride and sincerity.

Of course I would be thrilled if that character were Modern Orthodox, maybe shown lighting candles on Friday night, eating a Kosher meal, fighting crime in a costume designed in accordance with the laws of Tzniut… 

I know that comics aren’t the most highbrow of entertainment (fun as they may be), or particularly popular in Orthodox circles, but there’s plenty of precedent.

Let’s return once again to our favorite team roster, the X-Men. Sooraya “Dust” Qadir is a Sunni Muslim who fights crime beside the other X-Men, all the while wearing a niqab and abaya. Kurt “Nightcrawler” Wagner is a Catholic priest, and often the moral center of the group.

Certainly, there could be room for one observant Jew. If anything, their religious observance and restrictions could add a touch of flavor to the character.

Honestly, I don’t see this ever happening, on TV or in the comics. As someone pointed out to me, a vast majority of Jews in general are non-observant or agnostic, and this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Anyway, I should probably be grateful there’s been no “token Jew” superhero, because knowing the comics, he’d probably end up going by “HEBREW MAN” or “LION OF JUDAH”, and end up looking like this:

And I just don't think that’s how you’re supposed to wear a tallit and tefillin.