Adam Sandler, My Bar Mitzvah, and Jewish Visibility on Screen

You might think the new Adam Sandler movie that dropped this weekend on Netflix, You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah, is a slight comedy about a Jewish ritual that he produced to give his two teenage daughters co-starring roles in.

Well, yes, but also no.

Yes, I am writing about a Sandler Netflix movie

If you eliminate the Holocaust, Neil Simon and the neurotic angst of the typical adult Jewish male as subject matter or author, the list of mainstream American feature films filled with Jews at the center grows pretty small.

Oh, sure there are some, but well, not all that many. 

Ah yes, those Fabelmans are a recent entry

So it was with great intrigue that I spent my Saturday night with the Sandler family. (Note: Sunny Sandler is the star, Sadie Sandler co-stars, Adam Sandler plays a key supporting role, and even his real-life wife, Jackie Sandler, appears in a small part).

And, may I say, they did not disappoint. 

wait.. really???

To have fictional Jewish siblings, family and friends casually fill a space that is mostly reserved for white bread John Hughes-esque characters living cleverly in a typical American suburban landscape felt new and, actually, sort of groundbreaking for a wide-release American feature.

Especially since the so particularly Jewish story beats they were engaging in were more than ably filling in the space of the most thematically typical studio coming of age scenario imaginable.

And, trust me, I know where of I speak.

Exhibit A

It was 30 years ago this year that a movie I wrote loosely based on my family and the events that led to my bar mitzvah, Family Prayers, was released.

And though it was more of a drama with only some comedic elements, at the time the script was considered too specific, too niche and toookay, let’s face it, Jewish, to have even a snowball’s chance in hell of breaking into the mainstream.

And that was if the film was made perfectly (Note: As if THAT exists), which ultimately it wasn’t.

Not that I was thinking about any of that back then.

That’s fair

It just seemed like a good way to tell the story about the disintegration of my parents’ marriage, my Dad’s gambling addiction and a kids’ (Note: Um, my) confusion about, well, what it means to be an adult. 

So I only wrote it as a writing sample that could show off my talents and maybe get me work of some kind, any kind, since I knew:

a. Action movies and Saturday matinee sci-fi/comic book stories were what was commercial

b. I was squeamish with blood and the only comics I read were Archie, Betty and Veronica, and…  

c. A Jewish kid or family going through anything particularly Jewish, except maybe Nazis, was simply not considered a thing.

Did I hold out small secret hope it would get made?  Sure, in the same way I briefly fantasized about being straight some years before.

It wasn’t working

But we all are who we are, right? 

So it was with great defiance that I decided to write about one of the worst, yet dramatically fertile moments of my then relatively short Semitic life.

That, in itself, was ironic.  Truth be told, NO ONE in my family EVER even went to temple.  Still, we were culturally Jewish.  What this meant for me, and many other Jews who came of age when I did, was:

a. We celebrated a handful of key Jewish holidays over family dinners, sans prayers.

b. We ate a lot of lox, bagels, deli food and brisket (Note: And Chinese food on Sunday nights.  Don’t ask me why this is even Jewish but on the east coast it sort of was/is), and:

c. We kvelled (aka basked in pride) when Barbra Streisand became a movie star and Steve and Eydie (Note: Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme) appeared on TV.

Hi ya Babs

Oy vey.

I guess that’s one of the things I appreciated about You Are So Not Invited To My Bat Mitzvah. Based on a 2001 novel by Fiona Rosenbloom, it’s essentially a story about teen culture, Jewish culture and a Jewish girl who is rolling her eyes at everyone and everything except for her own needs. 

It’s funny and silly and mean and sad and infuriating and, ultimately sort of meaningful.  It takes apart Jewish friendships and family life in sweetly relatable ways that weren’t available back when I came of age.  And even if they were, the specific worlds they were offering were certainly not deemed broadly relatable.

This is a Sandler movie — can you believe?

When I wrote my screenplay in the eighties I chose an event from my life I figured would work as a structuring device to explore my world. 

But what I discovered in the writing was that my bar mitzvah, and what it turned out to be – a VERY pared down SMALL reception due to a lot of family drama – really did symbolize my coming of age.

What I get from the Sandler movie is a bit of the polar opposite.  A coming of age story that is very much about a bat mitzvah girl and the Jewish kids, and even non-Jewish kids, who surround her.

The ritual, even as it is sometimes played for comic effect, is as important a part of her life as her parents, siblings and friends she fails but ultimately learns to appreciate.

Idina Menzel is her mom, so I mean, how bad could it be?

She’s a Jewish girl/woman the movie offers for audiences to embrace, rather than a kid who just happens to be Jewish that a film is asking audiences to listen to. 

And to me, that feels like progress.

Even if bat and bar mitzvahs have never been your things at all.  Or never will be.

Adam Sandler – “Bar Mitzvah Boy”

Buzz off, Bubbles

This is what’s gotten the most attention in last week’s Vice Presidential debate, though you already know because, well, it’s gotten the most attention.

It was the moment when that fly landed on Mike Pence’s head and stayed there for a full TWO MINUTES, during which time he did absolutely NOTHING.

Like, he didn’t even flinch.  Could you imagine doing that?  What a circus trick.

Same, fly, same.

I kept thinking of that scene in the movie Ordinary People where Conrad, the emotionally repressed, suicidal teen played by Timothy Hutton, bemoaned in therapy how much effort it takes for him to actually feel something.

To which his spirited Jewish psychiatrist, played by Judd Hirsch, replies, and I’m paraphrasing:

Do you know how much effort it takes NOT to feel something?

This is harder, and more delicious.

This seemed the perfect analysis to me of Pence, the religious conservative former governor of Indiana and current Vice President. The man who is said to not eat alone with another woman or be in a place that serves alcohol unless his wife is present. 

The man who, for decades, has also been simultaneously dogged by rumors that he’s a repressed homosexual, with stories from the past claiming that as a kid even his own father once gave him the nickname of Bubbles on a car ride with the family because he was so, um, effervescent. 

Don’t act like you didn’t giggle #bubbles4ever

Well, all I can say is I would’ve preferred Bubbles compared to the things said about my own queer self at various times growing up.

Though never by my father.  At least to my face. 

That, in itself, could explain a lot about the differences between us.  I watch the debate alone with my husband of 32 years (Note: Well, technically only 5 years of marriage but 32 years together.   We weren’t able to legally marry for the other 27 and, if Pence had his way, we never have been able to) and together we root for the woman of color positioned 12 feet away from him beside that thick shield of Plexiglas.

Yes, you are Senator Harris.

Meanwhile, Pence sits up on the stage purposefully and unapologetically interrupting her as the running mate and chief cheerleader of the first openly white supremacist POTUS in modern times.

Pence and I may be close to the same age but as far as I know, that’s where the similarities end.  Unless you believe the now disavowed comments a college roommate of his once made that Pence used to like looking at muscle magazines back in the day.

Okay yes, I will admit to occasionally being tempted by a publication or two like that in my youth.  But I got over that phase once I realized that revering a man who appears muscular on the outside is not necessarily as desirable as it seems.

Though it can be.

It often feels this ridiculous #YESILIFTBRO

Nor is it a representation of who he is on the inside.  Though certainly it could be.

But you never learn any of that stuff when you stiffly refuse to feel the various stimulations on and in your head that almost everyone else watching you can so easily see.

When you are so pursed and controlled that you can’t even admit there’s a fly on your head, or perhaps worse yet, can’t even feel it, God knows what else you’re missing.  Or choosing to miss.

How much hairspray? Seriously

Or, well, allowing to happen so as not to face the reality of who you are, what you’ve become and, most importantly, what you now represent.

And what people are truly seeing when they look at you.

Idina Menzel – “Let It Go”