‘Bad Jews’: a personal review


By Saul Golubcow

I’m always struck after I attend a play how the theater’s rest room assumes the nature of an agora where audience members voice and discuss their reactions to the performance with friends and even strangers. So it was last year as I entered the rest room of the Studio Theater at the conclusion of Bad Jews, a play by Joshua Harmon, which is starting a return run at the Studio Theater December 3.  I certainly expected the usual kind of chatter, but I was stunned to hear both the decibel level and enthusiasm of rave reviews.  The room was filled with “funniest play I ever saw” and “great, I don’t think I ever laughed so hard.” I had not liked the play, and hearing the overwhelming positive response, I slunk out to join my wife who had listened to similar sentiments in the ladies room.

I’ve now had a while to consider why my reaction to the play was so much out of the rest room mainstream and indeed that of many reviews. Since the playwright has no qualms about trading on Jewish stereotypes and catch phrases, I’ll respond in kind that the play reverberated badly in my “kishkas,” meaning I was troubled deep in my gut.  And if I could travel back in time,  I’d say to those around me, “A series of  lusty guffaws does not a good play make” and then I would ask, “So when all is played out, what exactly is a “bad Jew?”

Somewhere embedded in one act, an attempt to be part Odd Couple and part Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf and accomplishing neither, the production opens us to laugh out loud responses to the verbal provocations and antics of the characters as they seem to explore the question of what does it mean to be a young, modern Jew.  The plot revolves around three Jewish family members, Daphna (Diana), her two cousins Liam (Shlomo) and Jonah, and Liam’s gentile girlfriend Melody who are stuck together overnight in an upper West Side apartment following the funeral of the cousins’ grandfather, a Holocaust survivor. At the heart of the stridency is the conflict between Daphna and Liam as to who deserves to inherit their grandfather’s chai necklace which he secreted at great risk until the war’s end.


Just relying on the easy appeal of the vicious banter to capture the audience (I freely admit, I laughed on a few occasions), the play fails to come near the richly detailed characters of Simon’s thrown together roommates and their clash of harmless foibles nor the tautly produced drama of Albee’s Virginia Woolf  where our amused smiles at the opening innuendos and muted polite exchanges disappear as the couples’ flailing shreds layers and layers of delusion and pretense, and we embarrassedly view the detritus of failed marriages. Oscar and Felix may be cloying presences and in many ways bad for each other, but the audience grows to like each in his idiosyncratic ways. George and Martha, Nick and Honey may have injurious marriages, but they are deeply drawn characters and not intrinsically bad people.

But in Bad Jews, all of the characters are shallow, unlikable, and unappealing, providing us with no saving insights about contemporary American Jewish society including what it means to be a bad Jew.  Daphna and Liam hate each other, but without nuance or depth, they are each right on the mark as to how they experience the other’s character. Daphna is petulant, rigid, obsessed with the superficial associations to things Jewish, and importantly, delusional as to social graces, relationships, and the existence of a made up fiancé serving in the Israeli army.  Her “righteousness,” as Liam sneers, is “self-righteousness.” But if the dialogue itself is not enough to draw out her character, Harmon’s overplayed stage direction presents Daphna with “hair – thick, intense, curly, frizzy, long brown hair…  Hair that screams: Jew.”  Oh my, I ponder, does her hair then automatically  scream “bad Jew?”

Liam is shallow, self-absorbed, defensive, smug, taken with his wealth, and culturally and traditionally anti-Jewish.  He is committed to dating non-Jewish women, and his parents support him financially as he is completing his doctorate in “contemporary Japanese youth culture.”  He hates his Hebrew name, Shlomo, and constantly feels himself “choking” on Daphna’s hair (oh how transparent) which she is monotonously brushing throughout the performance.

Jonah within the framework of this play may be described as a nebbish, but better he is non-assuming, timid, often withdrawn, vacillating, and susceptible to the bullying of his brother or cousin.  His one moment of assertion comes at the play’s conclusion, a grotesque scene tied to Holocaust identification, that even after many moments of thought, I have no idea what is intended and certainly does not aid my understanding of what is meant by a “bad Jew.”

And then there’s Melody, Liam’s, of course, shiksa girlfriend who is presented with “short, stick-straight blonde hair.”  Harmon really does have a thing about hair! The stage direction describes Melody  “like someone who would have been abducted when she was nine but returned to her parents unharmed.”

This stereotypic empty-headed blond is vacuous, a failed opera major with an awful voice, who now works as a low-level administrator at a non-profit.  When Daphnasnarkily asks her what type of a name is Melody, she answers, “Oh, I don’t know, Caucasian?” In contrast to the concentration camp numbers on the grandfathers arm, Melody sports a treble clef tattoo so as to never forget (oh please) how much music meant to her.  And naturally Liam loves her and wishes to give her his grandfather’s chainecklace which is at the crux of the conflict with Daphna.

So Bad Jews is basically a battle of stereotypes which leaves me wanting so much more of the play’s substance, but what really confounds me at bottom is that culturally and historically there has never been in Judaism a notion of a “bad Jew.”  From the bible forward, there have been Jewish rebels, traitors, heretics, and criminals who, rightly or wrongly, have been labeled as such, but never called “bad Jews.”  And conversely, what then based on the specious histrionics of this production would be a “good Jew?”  Let’s say someone who is decent, sensitive, open to others?  I think that sobriquet is mensch, certainly not “good Jew.”

The only direct mention of the “bad Jew” branding comes when Daphna relates that during one Passover, Liam pops a “forbidden” cookie, and impudently proclaims, “I’m a bad Jew.” My reaction is “no, you’re not Liam, because there is no such a thing as a bad Jew.” He may be non-observant, faithless, and contemptuous of his religion, but he is no more a “bad Jew than Melody is a “bad Protestant” when during a critical point in the play, she presents the ugly side of her character. And Liam is not a “bad Jew” for dating a blond shiksa, although just once, I’d love to see any type of a production (television, cinema, theater) where a male Jewish character has an adult, close relationship with a female Jewish character, and blond to boot.

Neither is Daphna a “bad Jew” because of her neurotic obsessions, guilt association, emphases on threats to Jewish survival, Holocaust sensitivities, or delusional bonding with Israel.  She with Jonah and his timorous nature and Liam with his cavalier responses are corrosively flawed people which has nothing to do with being “bad Jews.”  As one reviewer pointed out last year, a better title would have been “Jews Behaving Badly.”

Growing up Jewish with a distinct Eastern European Ashkenazi influence on my language and expressions, I learned to use the word “bad” (the Yiddish schlect) mostly to describe aberrant or destructive behavior. Something less would be tamped down to a devaluation of “not so good” or “could be better.” With this affinity in mind, I would say  upon leaving the “agora” that Harmon is a promising young playwright, but Bad Jews right now could be a better play.

Saul Golubcow writes from Potomac.

Never miss a story.
Sign up for our newsletter.
Email Address


  1. A friend took me to this play as a guest, so I was inclined to enjoy aspects of the craftsmanship. But the characters (particularly both female characters) were broadly drawn, unrealistic, and negative stereotypes. I think we the audience deserve better. I can’t fathom why most of the critIcs were enthusiastically approving of this play.

  2. Thank G-d! I thought it was me. I hated this play. Each of the characters was more annoying and shallow than the next. I also couldn’t understand why the play got such rave reviews. I didn’t find anything redeemable in any of the characters.

  3. Agreed. A troubling and ineffectual play . I think it raises interesting things about belonging and power but so many ideas are lost . The gentile girlfriend is horrific at the end with her disgust of the bodily contamination of the necklace,. Listen! You can’t leave this hanging ..,,plays are better than this!

  4. I agree wholeheartedly with the above comments about this play. I saw it today in Johannesburg, South Africa. I did not like it at all for almost all the reasons above.

  5. I am thankful to read the above replies. At the end of the play that I saw last night with my husband ( who is not Jewish) there was a discussion that took place between the director and the audience. I appeared to be the only one present who voiced a negative reaction to the play in Montreal. Frankly, I was embarrassed, as a Jew, by the vicious fighting among Jewish family members and by the vile behaviour they displayed. There is no need to applaud the negative stereotype that was presented. I am in full agreement with the above comments.

  6. I am Jewish and sensitive to depictions of negative stereotypes of Jews in our culture. I saw this play in a local production last night and was extremely uncomfortable. Why is this entitled “Bad Jews”? They are all just bad people but given a Jewish issue to display their “badness” around. There is so much to explore–and laugh at–in the complexities of Jewish identity, but this play does none of it. Overall, this play and its popularity really upset me.

  7. Well said. Bugged me too. Would further say that Melody’s outburst does more than present her bad side (indeed, that has already been demonstrated as well as observed by Daphna). It completely rewrites her character. Through the whole play we feel that we are being exposed to (not so healthy) debate about modern Judaism (and interfaith marriage) and that there is no agenda or resolution to the questions raised. With her sudden transformation the viewer is left with the sense that the playwright DOES have an agenda and that this shikseh has more than a bad side; that she (and thus marrying shiksehs) is actually quite awful. The woman who appeared before that scene would never had said those things.

  8. Fine, Mr. Golubcow, of course it “could be better” — all plays could use another rewrite, a week more of rehearsals. I mean only Shakespeare got it right 100 %, right? But then again: have you ever tried reading TIMOR OF ATHENS?

    Why compare BADJEWS to ODD COUPLE and WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOLF? This is a young playwright’s one-act. Neil Simon and Edward Albee? Come on. (why not compare it to something maybe…I don’t know…Jewish? (Arthur Miller’s late one-acts?)

    Mr. Golubcow also says: “But in Bad Jews, all of the characters are shallow, unlikable, and unappealing, providing us with no saving insights about contemporary American Jewish society including what it means to be a bad Jew.”

    Um, really? You never felt like a “bad Jew”? Driving to shul on Shabbat, going to the beach in Tel-Aviv because you only have 10 days in the aretz? Enjoying birthday cake not made from sponge just because you happen to have born during Pesach? How about showing up late and missing a bissel of Kol Nidre, or spending Yom Kippur afternoon napping — not so much making it back for Musaf. Or not liking the rabbi or having thoughts about the cantor’s wife or, “…next year I’ll be out of town and I’ll watch it streaming from that west coast congregation on the west coast I read about in Tikkun…”?

    Okay, maybe those are only when I’ve felt like a Bad Jew…and I didn’t even mention Joe’s Stone Crabs!

    But listen, surely you’ve known people like me. Or even like the characters in this play. Raise your hands if you been like one of them once in your life. Perhaps you ARE not happy with what seems like not your definition of the word “bad.”

    But if you go out to see a play like this and NEVER feel any connection, you are obviously not an American Jew in the 21st century. In your 20s. Are you?

    These kids are Bad Jews because they are petty, conniving, disgusting, lost, mourning, sad, very sad and have no idea what it really means to be a Jew, good bad or indifferent. As for Jonah’s reveal at the end, which you call, “a grotesque scene tied to Holocaust identification, that even after many moments of thought, I have no idea what is intended.”

    Shocking, yes. (I first thought, he’s suicidal with the thing wrapped around his wrist) But “grotesque”?And you have “no idea”? Either, you doubt his love for his grandfather, you have no idea how deep can be one’s love, confusion, mournfullness in the face of life’s tragic beauty — or you were in denial about what you saw, and are not one made for reflection on how you really felt, beyond “Grotesque! Ewwww!” Or never…whatever. That kid Jonah is far from a “Jew Behaving Badly” your preferred title of Harmon’s one-act. Far from it, sir! That boy be on his way to redemption.


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here