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Arts
Thursday, November 9, 2017 — 5B

AMAZON STUDIOS

Muslims on-screen: An 
honest reflection on my 
love for ‘The Big Sick’

The lasting effect of a romantic comedy that gets it (somewhat) right

It feels weird to say, but 

the movie that challenged me 
the most this past year was 
“The Big Sick.” Yes, that one. 
The charming indie romantic 
comedy 
starring 
Kumail 

Nanjiani (“Silicon Valley”) and 
Zoe Kazan (“The Deuce”).

Here, for once, was a positive 

portrayal of Muslims, right? 
They’re not terrorists, at least 
— the lowest possible bar to 
clear for representation for our 

people — and the guy is…dating 
a white woman? That seems 
kind of progressive. I watched it 
and loved it. It was funny in the 
right spots, tender in the others, 
a warm and intimate study of a 
relationship that requires more 
nuance in practice than in its 
idealized conception. And that’s 
not even getting into how good 
Ray Romano (“Get Shorty”) is 
here.

But 
in 
my 
post-film 

discussions 
with 
the 
other 

fellows of my ilk — “brown 
people,” as one might like to 
call them — I was disheartened. 

I rushed to extoll the film’s 
virtues to two of my friends 
(both Muslim, South Asian 
women) only to find them 
disenchanted at best, disgusted 
at worst. I texted my sister 
immediately after, expecting 
wholehearted enthusiasm but 
instead receiving a reply full 
of accusatory disappointment. 
And on a quick phone call with 
my mother, I found that while 
my appreciation for Kumail 
Nanjiani had bloomed, Mrs. 
Chollampat’s greatest fear had 
been actualized on the silver 
screen: That her son (me, for 

those of you keeping score) 
would 
eventually 
marry 
a 

white girl.

This is the worst feeling.
I hate liking something, 

and 
then 
finding 
out 
it’s 

“problematic.” It sucks. You 
feel 
like 
an 
asshole. 
But, 

determined to continue liking 
this movie, I engaged in what 
the kids these days call “civil 
discourse.”

My 
friends’ 
and 
family’s 

main issues with “The Big 
Sick,” it turned out, are ones 
of representation. The South 
Asian women — particularly 
the mother — are portrayed as 
incorrigible, shrew-like, alien; 
Nanjiani’s self-titled character, 
however, is the paragon of the 
assimilated immigrant. Kumail 
is afforded the agency that the 
women of the story, save for 
one brief exchange of dialogue 
with a potential suitor, are not. 
I’d like to counter that this is 
an autobiographical story and 
it’s simply the tale of his life 
that he’s telling, but I can’t. 
That’s too shallow. It’s a valid 
critique and one that I failed to 
acknowledge.

What 
struck 
me 
most, 

however, and what challenged 
me to my core (I know, this 
is just a Sundance romantic 
comedy, can you believe it?), 
was “The Big Sick”’s portrayal 
of Muslims. It’s funny, now that 
I think about it. Remember just, 
like 10 or so years ago, when the 
only work an Arab guy could 
get in Hollywood was some 
dude named Abdul bin-[insert 
“extremely al-Qaeda operative” 
surname here] on “24”? Or this 
classic: We cut to a Middle 
Eastern country (which we 
know is Middle Eastern because, 
duh, the Muslim call to prayer 
is playing in the background!) 
where a guy finishes up on his 
prayer rug before proceeding to 
strap a bomb on his chest and 
blow up a bustling market?

Contrast 
that 
with 
the 

notable 
prayer-rug 
scene 

in “The Big Sick.” Kumail’s 
mother tells him to pray before 
dinner, so he grabs the prayer 

rug, heads downstairs, throws 
on a timer for five minutes and 
sits and watches videos on his 
phone. I’m sorry, Umma, but I 
have literally gone through this 
exact process before.

Where’s the happy medium, 

though? If the two possibilities 
for Muslims onscreen toggle 
between 
deranged 
terrorist 

and guy who fakes prayer 
and drinks at comedy clubs, 
what does that mean for the 
comfortably religious Muslim 
American family?

It’s clear “The Big Sick” 

was sanitized, in some way, 
to appeal to the Sundance 
crowd. Kumail abandons any 
and all semblance of Islam in 

his quest to court (and then 
care for) Emily. His culture of 
arranged marriages and stilted 
family dinners and overbearing 
Muslim 
mothers 
and 
the 

dreaded prospect of a wife with 
an Indian accent is, for the 
most part, portrayed as wholly 
undesirable.

There’s room to grow, then. 

I don’t mean to defame Kumail 
Nanjiani’s relationship with his 
religion; God (I should probably 
say Allah here) only knows 
I’m not a perfect Muslim. But 
it’s clear that Islam isn’t at 
the same level of widespread 
understanding in film as other 
cultures; there’s less room for 
error.

The “lapsed Catholic” is 

a genre unto itself. So, too, 
are Woody Allen’s and Larry 

David’s 
“self-deprecating 

Jew” filmographies. We can’t 
afford to show ourselves to 
the 
American 
audience 
at 

this nebulous space between 
devout 
fundamentalism 
— 

which is inevitably positioned 
as antithetical to the entire 
American experiment — and 
a complete lack of adherence 
to religion. For the average 
moviegoer, Muslims, as they 
are in so many other facets of 
contemporary life, are held 
to a different standard than 
everyone else: they must occupy 
a binary while everyone else is 
afforded the range of spiritual 
possibility. It all, of course, boils 
down to that tiresome cliché of 
assimilation vs. acculturation.

Perhaps there’s no better 

recent example of this abstract 
conflict 
than, 
ironically 

enough, last year’s Democratic 
National 
Convention. 
Khizr 

and Ghazala Khan stood on 
the 
stage 
in 
Philadelphia, 

home of the Liberty Bell and 
the signing of the Declaration 
of 
Independence, 
frantically 

waving the Constitution as 
they lamented the loss of their 
soldier son, killed in Iraq 
and posthumously awarded a 
Purple Heart and a Bronze Star, 
who was finally laid to rest at 
Arlington National Cemetery, 
draped in an American flag. 
And yet, their patriotism was 
questioned.

I still love “The Big Sick.” 

I laugh at Kumail’s snarky 
but loving relationship with 
his mother; I’m moved by 
Zoe 
Kazan’s 
understated 

performance. It’s a romantic 
comedy 
about 
comedians 

starring a brown Muslim guy 
that features an incredible 9/11 
joke — a film seemingly tailor-
made for me. It’s not perfect, I 
know, but for the Aziz Ansari’s 
and the Hasan Minhaj’s and the 
Kumail Nanjiani’s and [insert 
plural characterization of a 
female Muslim comedian who 
will hopefully be just as famous 
very soon] of the world, it’s a 
step in the right direction. I’m 
fine with it.

NABEEL CHOLLAMPAT

Senior Arts Editor

HBO

Larry, oh Larry, oh Larry

A look at the problematic portrayal of Judaism on television

Oy Gevalt: How modern 
TV secularizes Judaism

The first time I really felt like I 

saw myself — or rather, my Jewish 
identity — on TV was in the 2003 
Disney Channel Original movie, 
“Full Court Miracle.” The story 
centered 
on 
Alex 
Schlotsky 

(Alex D. Linz, “Max Keeble’s Big 
Move”), the young, precocious 
leader 
of 
an 
inept 
Jewish 

basketball team, who recruits an 
ex-college basketball star to be 
their coach. 

At the time of its release, 

everything about this movie 
screamed modern day Jewish 
culture to me. Alex’s reticence to 
learn Hebrew spoke to my own 
struggle 
with 
understanding 

the intricacies of the language. 
The 
predominantly 
Jewish 

city of Philadelphia, my dad’s 
hometown, felt like a perfect 
backdrop for the story. Jewish 
lingo and rituals were exchanged 

among characters, and above 
everything, the Eight Days of 
Hanukkah made for a clever 
storytelling 
framework. 
And 

in typical Disney fashion, the 
climax of the film saw the mighty 
young Jewish defeating their 
much more imposing opponents, 
mirroring the victory of Judah 
and 
the 
Maccabees 
against 

the Hellenists from the actual 
Hanukkah origin story.

Even though I had seen these 

themes and images explored 
before in other TV movies like 
the 
“Rugrats” 
Passover 
and 

Hanukkah specials, there was 
something 
different 
about 

“Full Court Miracle.” Unlike 
“Rugrats,” “Full Court Miracle” 
wasn’t a simple retelling of 
Jewish oppression in the Bible. 
It captured the spirit of Jewish 
culture by interweaving it into a 
regular, underdog story. Through 
normalizing Judaism, TV helped 
validate my identity. 

Since “Full Court Miracle,” 

television 
has 
continued 

to 
broaden 
and 
unfold 
the 

complexity 
of 
the 
Jewish 

community 
beyond 
religious 

holidays like Hanukkah. Current 
shows like Comedy Central’s 
“Broad 
City” 
and 
Amazon’s 

“Transparent,” 
both 
starring, 

written and created by Jews, each 
have their distinctive depiction of 
Jewish life and culture, but they 
both encapsulate the essence of 
modern day Judaism through the 
mannerisms of their characters.

On “Broad City,” best friends 

Abbi Abrams (Abbi Jacobson, 
“BoJack Horseman”) and Ilana 
Wexler (Ilana Glazer, “The Night 
Before”) engage in their Jewish 
identity in a way that, more or 
less, reflects the current state of 
non-practicing, more culturally 
attuned Jews in America. They 
have difficulty fasting on Yom 
Kippur, attempt to go on a 
Birthright-like trip to Israel and 
face distractions while sitting 
Shiva. Since the show caters 

to such a wide, diverse young 
audience, these moments help 
shift misperceptions of Jews 
in the entertainment industry, 
portraying them as vibrant and 
care-free as every other young 
adult. 

As a much more explicitly 

Jewish alternative to “Broad 
City,” 
“Transparent” 
also 

finds a way to show Jews as 
ordinary members of society 
while recognizing the religious 
aspects 
of 
their 
identities. 

In each of its four seasons, 
“Transparent” explored the rich, 
complicated history behind the 
rich, 
complicated 
Pfefferman 

family. The show’s beginning 
skimmed the surface of modern 
Jewish family life. It introduced 
a rabbi character (Kathryn Hahn, 
“I Love Dick”) and depicted 
scenes of a Shabbat dinner and 
an unsuccessful preparation for 
youngest child Ali’s (Cleo Fraser, 
“Chronic”) Bat Mitzvah. The 
second season expanded on the 
first season’s religious themes, 

tracing 
Maura’s 
transgender 

identity all the way back to her 
aunt Gittel (Hari Nef, “Let Me 
Die a Nun”) in Nazi-controlled 
Europe.

The third and fourth seasons 

took on more current issues 
in 
the 
Jewish 
community, 

covering topics ranging from the 
Israeli/Palestinian 
conflict 
to 

synagogue bureaucracy. Though 
the show occasionally drifts 
into problematic territory — the 
Pfefferman 
matriarch 
Shelly 

(Judith 
Light, 
“Ugly 
Betty”) 

plays into the Jewish mother 
stereotype almost to a fault — 
“Transparent” is a standard 
example of how modern day Jews 
navigate the everyday world, 
confronting the traumas of their 
own history in order to come to 
terms with their present. 

In contrast to the relatively 

accurate 
representations 
of 

Jews 
in 
“Broad 
City” 
and 

“Transparent,” 
other 
Jewish-

themed shows like HBO’s “Curb 
Your Enthusiasm” and Hulu’s 

“Difficult People” — both of 
which are also starring, written 
and created by Jews — have a 
tendency to make Jews seem 
unlikable.

“Curb” creator and star Larry 

David is no stranger to causing 
controversy among the Jewish 
community, given his sardonic, 
neurotic humor and pointed, 
sometimes offensive observations 
on Jewish culture. While his 
most popular work, “Seinfeld,” 
was a huge success and a primary 
catalyst for Jewish representation 
on TV, David reinforces the 
worst possible tropes of Jews 
on “Curb.” He yells at crying 
widows at funerals to shut up, 
chastising unruly children and 
their overbearing parents during 
Passover seders and doodling 
Swastikas in textbooks. Then 
again, 
David 
makes 
fun 
of 

himself throughout the show — a 
character calls him a “self-hating 
Jew,” and David responds, “I do 
hate myself, but it has nothing to 
do with being Jewish.” 

COMEDY CENTRAL

I love female friendship

Hulu’s “Difficult People,” too, 

satirizes some absurd facets of 
Jewish culture. Billy Eichner 
(“American Horror Story: Cult”) 
and 
Julie 
Klausner 
(“Bob’s 

Burgers”) play two struggling 
writers who constantly make fun 
of other people, as well as their 
own Jewish heritage. The two 
venture to Friday night services as 
an excuse to network with Jews in 
the entertainment industry, make 
Adolf Hitler a character in their TV 
pitch to NBC and attempt to avoid 

their stereotypically insufferable 
Jewish families. Similar to “Broad 
City,” “Difficult People” tackles 
various trends in Jewish life and 
the 
increasing 
disillusionment 

toward religious practice among 
Jews today, though arguably to 
a much more provocative and 
exaggerated degree. 

Despite how these four shows 

differ in their views toward 
Judaism, they each incorporate 
an honest depiction of Jewish life. 
In some ways, the stereotypes 

in “Difficult People” and “Curb 
Your Enthusiasm” do illuminate 
some truths about the attitudes 
and beliefs of Jews today, but they 
don’t always get at the root of 
what makes Judaism so complex 
and compelling like in “Broad 
City” and “Transparent.” Part of 
what makes TV so entertaining 
as a medium is being able to not 
only see ourselves portrayed 
on-screen, but also to see the 
subtle nuances of our identities in 
those portrayals.

For the average 

moviegoer, 

Muslims are held 

to a different 
standard than 
everyone else

SAM ROSENBERG

Daily Arts Writer

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