Shtisel

It’s been about 50 posts since I went on about how impactful I found Unorthodox.  As a result, I bought and read the book, and then looked about for any similar sort of drama that might have a Haredi setting or element.  Turns out that that show’s star, Shira Haas, is already known for just the thing I was after: Shtisel.  But where would I find a boxset about an ultra-Orthodox Jewish family living in Jerusalem?  Netflix of course.  Praise be that we live in an age of instant international distribution.  About a year ago, then, I started making my way through the first series.  Now, you’ll have seen me post here about all sorts of shiny and glamorous productions (Bridgerton, The Mandalorian), so let’s manage our expectations that this was a bit of a departure.  Hailing back to 2013, we’re not awash in expensive special effects or high drama.  Instead, this is a simple, sometimes delicate, sometimes clanging piece of kitchen sink banality (with a huge dollop of strict religious doctrine) that potters along with charm and pain, just like any family’s life (give or take the religion part).

There’s a second series from 2015, and then, come 2020, Netflix step in to revive things for a third.  Needless to say, as much as I was hooked by the Shtisels’ stories, the show was never quite first choice for evening viewing when things like Watchmen or Atlanta were on offer.  Thus, Shtisel evolved into the show I watch in the bath.  This is typically a weekend moment where I need an Epsom salts soak after too much gym, but don’t have the attention span to sit still for 45 minutes, yet know with certainty that any book I take in there will be dropped (the smartphone isn’t even allowed in the bathroom as I am guaranteed to submerge it).  My trusty laptop perched on some storage boxes at a safe distance, I’m able to use my physio-prescribed dips as a viewing occasion.  But, occurring only once weekly, this has meant it’s taken the best part of a year to get through everything.  That said, I’ve been able throughout to respond to well-wishers’ enquiries about my current viewing with a very smug answer: “Oh just this Israeli drama that’s most in Hebrew, you wouldn’t know it…”

And here we have one of my other joys with the show: the languages.  I don’t know any Hebrew, but the older characters occasionally switch to Yiddish, which is much easier to decipher.  Hebrew remains, however, a great language for shouting at relatives in, whereas the Yiddish lines really suit moments when the elder generation want to lament the lack of religious observance of others.  Plot-wise, we have father-and-son combo Shulem and Akiva at the heart of Shtisel.  Akiva is, by his community’s standards, late to be wed, and it’s his hunt for the right bride that propels his narrative, mostly because he is wont to pursue inappropriate matches.  Maybe it’s the artist in him, but Akiva’s status as a dreamer is a source of much bafflement to his chain-smoking father, Shulem.  A widower himself, Shulem too dabbles in the marriage market, sometimes via the matchmaker, sometimes with his actual wife, but mostly with a view to dropping by for some homemade food under the auspices of any available excuse.  Dvora, the late matriarch of the Shtisel family, looms large over all our characters, and, in fact, Shtisel has a preoccupation with death.  From Malka, the grandmother rattling about in an old people’s home, to the untimely passing of some other characters that I won’t spoil here, our transience on this Earth is never far from the matters in hand.

For heathens like me, every moment of religious pageantry adds richness and depth to the stories, and whole plots will revolve around a taboo or ruling that simply won’t exist in the lives of others.  All our menfolk are dedicated to studying the Torah (and carrying around plastic bags), whereas marriage and motherhood dominate the Shtisel ladies.  We do need to contrive plot, so characters will occasionally use dishonesty to pursue a holier route or admit to being cruel to be kind so their relative stays on the right moral path.  Giti, Shulem’s daughter, is often caught in a conundrum where she must tread a narrow tightrope, bringing her into conflict with her eldest child, Ruchami (played with incredible maturity by Shira Haas from our first paragraph).

Storylines wander in and out of focus, some almost going nowhere, some veering in for what appears to be no reason, but I was throughout compelled to find out what would happen next.  The languid pace is soothing.  The intricacies of observing a long-held faith are interesting.  And there’s entertainment in wanting the best for the whole family.  Don’t get involved if you’re expecting to laugh out loud, as the show often feels quite heavy with seriousness, but join in if you can look through cultural, religious and linguistic differences to enjoy the nuances of how other people live their lives.  I was even moved to tears a couple of times, with one such moment occurring on a busy Tube while I cheated on my bath viewing policy and watched an episode on my phone simply because I had to find out what poor old Akiva would do next.  My mask luckily hid anything embarrassing but, if anyone had asked, I would have been desperate to show off my eclectic taste in boxsets.  Fortunately, I can do that here, and you can read it.