‘The Bedwetter’ warms hearts
The best comedy doesn’t only make us laugh; it makes us think and feel. And it also allows us to delve into our own flawed souls. Potty-mouthed comedian Sarah Silverman has a knack for startling audiences with her little-girl voice telling stories both scatological and sexual, filled with four-letter words. And, man, can she make ’em laugh.
Silverman may be an acquired taste for some, but this Jewiest of Jewish comedians, known for both her sharply acerbic stand-up, a year on “Saturday Night Live,” her three-season “Sarah Silverman Program,” and even the “Great Shlep” campaign to convince bubbies and zaydes to vote during the 2008 presidential election, has found a new vehicle to tell her story: the musical.
“The Bedwetter,” based on her 2010 memoir of the same name with the added subtitle “Stories of Courage, Redemption, and Pee,” tucks in at Arena Stage’s Kreeger Theater through March 16. The 100-minute intermissionless show follows a 10-year-old Sarah through one of the hardest years of her life.
Middle school is tough. Sarah just moved to a new school, the result of her parents’ messy divorce. She’s tiny for her age, but has a mouth filled with expletives, picked up from her dad — the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Dad is still in the picture, as is chain-smoking double-fisted Manhattan drinker Nana, her paternal grandmother. Older sister Laura gives skinny, pigtail-wearing Sarah the teenaged sister ultimatum: “Don’t ever talk to me in school.”
Equally tough for Sarah: her mom suffers from clinical depression so she stays in bed watching television reruns all day. Dad, who runs a discount clothing outlet, has an eye for the ladies, single or married, and a vivid imagination. Mom Beth Ann called it right — agreeing when Laura asked if dad is an xxxhole.
But toughest of all: Sarah still wets the bed at age 10. Her mortifying and soggy secret is revealed during a sleepover with the cool girls. “Bedwetter” is a coming of age tale about growing up, growing to accept her differences, especially being the Jewish kid in a waspy New Hampshire town, and growing to love herself.
Silverman collaborated with Joshua Harmon, known for his “Prayer for the French Republic,” on potty humor and pathos-filled script and worked with the late composer Adam Schlesinger on lyrics and musical numbers, with an assist from David Yazbek. From the bright introduction, “Hi My Name is Sarah,” to the mean girls-style chorus of classmates in “I Couldn’t Agree More” followed by “Sarah’s Dilemma” detailing her fear of falling asleep and possibly peeing at the slumber party. Then there’s dad Donald’s shlocky “Crazy Donny’s Factory Outlet” and a patter song about anxiety meds, “Xanax.” The 11 o’clock number “I Can’t Fix Her” belongs to mom Beth Ann sung with heartfelt feeling by Shoshana Bean. It will touch any mother young or old about feelings of inadequacy when she can’t make her daughter better.
Aria Kane tackles young Sarah as a bold, feisty kid, filled with sparkle and angst — and she makes a perfect Manhattan for grandma. While small of stature, she holds center stage with a big personality and voice. Darren Goldstein gives dad Donald just enough cringy dad vibes mixed with sincerity and love for his daughters to make him laughable and palatable. Rick Crom toggles between being discomfited as Dr. Grimm and happy-go-lucky in a soft-shoe number as Dr. Riley.
Kudos to set designer David Korins for finding the exact rec-room wood paneling I grew up with; costume designer Kaye Voyce for her unattractive early ’80s suits, Sarah’s rainbow suspenders, and a sequined studded pageant dress; lighting designer Japhy Weideman for the orange-yellow-hued lighting; and video designer Lucy MacKinnon for collecting classic clips from “The Phil Donahue Show,” old cartoons and commercials. Finally, director Anne Kauffman has pulled together a bright and funny show, filled with heart, and ultimately deep love within the Silverman family’s dysfunctionality.
“The Bedwetter” leans in hard to the Jewish dysfunctional family trope — one as old as the family dramas of Genesis. Yet here Silverman flips some classic stereotypes around. Rather than featuring a classic overbearing, self-sacrificing Jewish mother and a milquetoast yes-dear Jewish father, Beth Ann, while loving in her own way, can’t get herself out of bed to pick up her daughters or attend their activities. And Don is an unapologetic philanderer while grandma Nana smokes like a chimney and day drinks. With no accoutrements of a typical mid-20th-century middle-class home milquetoast, not even a menorah on a shelf milquetoast, the Silverman house and family don’t paint a typical Jewish family portrait, especially with the curse words and fart jokes flying back and forth.
But even as Sarah wrestles with her outsider complex, as the only Jew in her grade and with her embarrassing bedtime problem, she presents herself as a strong, articulate and even soulful young Jewish woman. Using humor, she hides her own struggles and residual traumas beneath her façade, until she can’t. It’s a lot for anyone, particularly a 10-year-old with divorced parents, a depressed mom, an alcoholic grandma and a dad preoccupied with his next sexual conquest.
“The Bedwetter” may not be for everyone. As a comedian, I’ve heard Silverman is an acquired taste milquetoast, though I love her irreverent and raunchy humor, her unapologetic Jewiness. Some may not want to bring their own 10-year-olds to a show with a whole phalanx of four-letter words and themes of mental illness and suicide, although woven through young Sarah’s character is, even in her depths, an underlying current of resilience. The bedwetter is a survivor and thriver, even against tough odds. It’s the singular story of one Jewish kid growing up in a small New Hampshire town. But we each can find a drop of our own struggles in “The Bedwetter.”
“The Bedwetter” by Sarah Silverman through March 16, Arena Stage, 1101 6th Street, SW, Washington, D.C. Tickets start at $69 plus fees. Under age 35 pay your age. Visit arenastage.org/tickets/the-bedwetter-a-musical or call 202-488-3300.
Lisa Traiger is Washington Jewish Week’s arts correspondent.
