Joshua Harmon’s ‘Bad Jews’ in New York

Boy, was I wrong.

Bad Jews, as Joshua Harmon calls his hard-hitting new play, is a hilarious comedy turned dead serious about the Jewish identity crisis in today’s younger generation. If you’re secure in your own religious identity, then beware: Bad Jews will unsettle your certainties.

Yes, the play is set on New York’s affluent, largely Jewish Upper West Side. And yes, it delivers many familiar wisecracks. The play’s very first line is, “You can see the Hudson River from the bathroom window”— a New York real estate joke that gets a big laugh from audience members who pay dearly for the privilege of living in 600-square-foot apartments where every inch counts.

But this joke, and others like it, are intended to loosen you up before Bad Jews goes in for the kill.

Family reunion

The above-mentioned view is from a studio apartment belonging to Jonah Haber, a 20-something college graduate whose affluent parents have treated him to a pricey address on Riverside Drive. His postage-stamp-size living room has become an encampment for three cousins (Jonah, his brother Liam and their cousin Diana) who are gathering on the afternoon following their grandfather’s funeral.

It sounds like a stock situation for a family “dramedy.” But in this case, the family that “preys” together stays together. Instead of mourning their beloved “Popi,” the three grandchildren become embroiled in a deadly battle for his legacy.

That inheritance doesn’t include the customary stash of real estate, stocks or bonds. No, here the hotly contested prize is a special religious amulet that their grandfather held dearly and that represented his identity– a chai (Hebrew for “living”) on a golden chain. That religious relic holds special significance, as Popi was a Holocaust survivor and kept the chai hidden under his tongue for two years in a concentration camp.

Jewish with a vengeance

Diana— or Daphna (she insists everyone calls her by her Hebrew name), who arrived the night before and attended the funeral with her cousin Jonah, is “Jewish with a vengeance,” as Woody Allen would describe her. She swoops around the apartment like a ferocious, foul-mouthed Fury, terrorizing the nebbishy Jonah, bullying him into supporting her claim.

After all, she argues, she’s the rightful heir to such a prize, since she’s the only grandchild who practices Judaism rigorously. Moreover, after she graduates from Vassar (yet), she plans to emigrate to Israel, join the army, marry her Israeli boyfriend and become a rabbi. In a supersized performance by Tracee Chimo, with her tangled hair flying, she resembles a Jewish Medusa.

Assimilated Jew

On the other hand, Daphna argues, her cousin Liam (an intransigent Michael Zegen), couldn’t be less worthy. After all, he’s rejected his religion as well as his Hebrew name (Shlomo), and has completely assimilated. Worse, Liam didn’t even show up for the funeral.

(Evidently Liam and his girlfriend missed the news of his grandfather’s death because they were skiing in Aspen, where he dropped his cell phone on the chair lift and so lost touch for two days.)

Once Liam finally arrives, the fur starts flying. Marching around the tiny apartment (there is no floor space, so everyone must tread on the couch and the inflatable mattresses that line the floor), the sparring cousins hurl insults at each other, while Jonah tries to duck the scathing crossfire.

“Super Jew! Uber Jew!” Liam cries.

“Shlomo, the shiksa lover!” Daphna retorts.

Cowering in the corner

Liam accuses Daphna of hypocrisy, slovenliness, and loose morals (as well as fabricating the existence of her Israeli boyfriend). Daphna ridicules Liam’s Ph. D. concentration in Japanese youth culture as irrelevant and absurd– an escapist, irresponsible undertaking for a modern Jew. She attacks him viciously for dating every kind of girl but a Jewish one.

Playwright Harmon has created two perfect comedic foils for these warring cousins. First there’s the meek, flat-footed Jonah (an affecting Philip Ettinger), who insists he doesn’t want to get involved and cowers in the corner during the fray.

Ultimate shiksa

Second, there’s lovely little Melody (a perky Molly Ranson), a former opera student and (according to Daphna) the ultimate blond shiksa. (When Daphna questions her ethnicity, Melody replies: “I’m from Delaware.”)

After remarking that Melody must have been “live water-birthed in a Talbot’s,” Daphna invites Melody to sing for them. You can only imagine the comedic relief that Melody’s unmelodious voice provides.

Grandpa’s wishes

Liam and Daphna, representing two sides of the dialectic, each make a compelling case for Jewish identity– or the rejection thereof– as they seek to prove who is worthy of Popi’s chai. Why, Liam argues, should he practice a religion whose rote rituals mean nothing to him?

Moreover, he asserts, Popi wanted Liam (the eldest grandchild) to have the chai all along, so that Liam, in turn, could give it to his fiancée (Melody), just as Popi had done with his own wife. In that way, Liam feels, he will honor his grandfather. There are more ways of respecting tradition than slavish devotion to meaningless ritual, Liam contends.

Against intermarriage

This argument drives Daphna ballistic. She makes a passionate plea for Jewish identity and a convincing case against intermarriage and assimilation. Soon, she warns, everyone will be exactly alike (part Jewish, part Christian, part Asian, part Hispanic, etc.).

“Now it’s easier to be Jewish more than any other time in the world,” she pleads. “We can’t stop! Once it’s gone, it’s gone!”

So chai— symbol of endurance and survival– becomes the central metaphor of this alleged comedy that turns dark at the end. The cousins speak of the tattooed concentration camp number on Popi’s arm— another vestige of survival. Meanwhile, Melody reveals that she has a treble clef tattooed on her shin— a mark that Daphna ridicules in comparison with her grandfather’s.

What’s the significance of these “marks of Cain”? And who’s to judge?

The answer lies in the play’s concluding moments, when we perceive signs that the chai will finally fall into the hands of its rightful heir and keeper of Popi’s legacy. We are left to ponder the value of this cherished family symbol if the family itself is torn apart in the process of fighting over it.

To read Naomi Orwin's review of the Philadelphia production, click here.

To read Steve Cohen's review of the Philadelphia production, click here.