I was over the moon when I heard Kristen Bell and Adam Brody would be starring opposite each other in a new Netflix rom-com Nobody Wants This. It was the Veronica Mars/Seth Cohen love story I never knew I always wanted, and to top it off, Adam Brody would be playing a young, progressive rabbi—reflecting the experiences of clergy like myself. Then, the trailer dropped.
Brody’s character, Noah, was introduced as the “hot rabbi”: good-looking, approachable, athletic, and sex-positive, which challenges preconceived notions about Jewish clergy. While Noah embodied a modern, complex “nice Jewish boy,” each of the women around him felt like one-dimensional caricatures, rooted in antisemitic and misogynistic tropes.
I watched the series with an open mind, hopeful these female characters would develop beyond their promo portrayals. No such luck.
Bell’s character, Joanne, is a non-Jewish, fun-loving, sex-and-relationships podcaster who falls for Rabbi Noah’s charm. She’s presented as vibrant and carefree, in direct contrast to Noah’s sister-in-law Esther, who is depicted as nagging, abrasive, and—worst of all, it seems—brunette. While Esther is clearly beautiful, intelligent, and an excellent mother, the series does little to celebrate these qualities. It instead leans heavily on her role as the stereotypical stick-in-the-mud Jewish wife. This dynamic is made explicit when Noah breaks up with his long-term Jewish girlfriend and begins pursuing Joanne. Noah’s friend remarks, “We love fun, but do we end up with fun?” To which Noah’s brother chimes in, “Yeah, have you met Esther? She’s not fun. That’s why I married her.”
With Esther embodying the stock character Jewish American Princess, Noah’s mother, Bina, steps in to perpetuate the Jewish mother stereotype. Like Esther, Bina is written with little nuance. Just when Joanne thinks she’s won over her boyfriend’s prickly mother, Bina leans in mid-hug to whisper, “You’re never gonna end up with my son.” In the final episode of the season, Bina and Esther stand facing the audience, Bina scowling like a cartoon villain while Esther schemes, “Those fucking sisters have got to go.” What gets completely glossed over, however, is that Esther’s anger is entirely justified. Moments earlier, she discovers that her husband is seemingly having an emotional affair with Joanne’s sister. Rather than delve into Esther’s pain, the show reduces her to a bitter antagonist.
One bright spot is Rabbi Shira, a mentor of Noah’s, who stands out as funny (blonde!) and welcoming to Joanne in ways that most other Jewish characters are not. Unfortunately, her warmth is overshadowed by the show’s overwhelmingly negative portrayal of Jewish women. Even minor characters perpetuate this pattern, like a congregant of Noah’s who scolds Joanne for loitering outside and demands she leave the premises. In my three decades of regular synagogue attendance, I have never seen anyone—other than a security guard—tell someone to leave. On the contrary, in my experience, it is women who go out of their way to welcome newcomers.
Ironically, the show does a good job of illustrating the low grade antisemitism Jewish men face, even as it reinforces harmful stereotypes against Jewish women. Non-Jewish characters repeatedly express surprise at Noah’s attractiveness, as if his being Jewish and a rabbi should preclude him from being handsome—a sentiment I’ve heard uttered in real life, including by the DJ at a rabbinic student’s wedding. In one scene, Joanne’s sister texts her, “He’s cuter than I expected; he doesn’t look that Jewish.” Later, Joanne’s mother exclaims, “Oy vey! A Jewish Rabbi!” before gushing, “I had no idea you were so handsome. I mean, you look just like Billy Joel.” As Joanne is quick to point out, the two look nothing alike. It’s a common experience for Jewish people: being compared to Jewish celebrities with whom we share little-to-no resemblance. It’s a subtle microaggression, but one that reminds us of the narrow lens through which Jews are often viewed.
The show isn’t all bad. I binge-watched the series in a week. It captures the beauty of Jewish traditions like Shabbat, and the holiday’s lesser-known counterpart, Havdalah. And the scene where Noah is swarmed by congregants after Friday night services (including by a proud mom who wants to show him her son’s student film: “a documentary about the history of documentaries”) is particularly relatable.
When I asked my female Jewish friends for their thoughts, not all shared my critiques. One rabbinic colleague argued, “I know these women!” It’s true that many of us know overbearing mothers or abrasive relatives. But in real life, those same women might work tirelessly for their families or devote their lives to charity. Nobody is as one-dimensional as the Jewish women in Nobody Wants This. Perhaps the saddest consequence of these stereotypes isn’t the inaccurate messages they send to the outside world, but the impact they have on our own self-image, shaping how we see ourselves and judge each other. In university, a non-Jewish classmate once half-jokingly called me a “JAP.” A few months later, as I prepared to go on Birthright, I caught myself worrying about being surrounded by “JAPs” on the trip. Instead, I met an incredibly down-to-earth group of Jewish peers. I was ashamed to have let the preconceived notions of outsiders cloud my view of my own people. I pray that season two pulls back the layers of Bina and Esther to reveal the humanity beneath their harsh exteriors, just as we get to see with Joanne and her sister. We deserve representation that shows the complexity of Jewish life—flaws and all, but goes beyond the “JAP” stereotype.
Season one ends with Noah torn between his desire to become senior rabbi of his congregation and his feelings for Joanne, who does not want to convert to Judaism. Just this year, Hebrew Union College—the American Reform seminary where I was ordained—made the controversial decision to allow clergy to intermarry. Interfaith relationships involving Jewish clergy is a fascinating premise for a TV show and offers a ripe opportunity to showcase the vibrancy and complexity of Jewish life. I only hope season two rises to the challenge. Because either way, millions of us will be watching.
I was over the moon when I heard Kristen Bell and Adam Brody would be starring opposite each other in a new Netflix rom-com Nobody Wants This. It was the Veronica Mars/Seth Cohen love story I never knew I always wanted, and to top it off, Adam Brody would be playing a young, progressive rabbi—reflecting the experiences of clergy like myself. Then, the trailer dropped.
Brody’s character, Noah, was introduced as the “hot rabbi”: good-looking, approachable, athletic, and sex-positive, which challenges preconceived notions about Jewish clergy. While Noah embodied a modern, complex “nice Jewish boy,” each of the women around him felt like one-dimensional caricatures, rooted in antisemitic and misogynistic tropes.
I watched the series with an open mind, hopeful these female characters would develop beyond their promo portrayals. No such luck.
Bell’s character, Joanne, is a non-Jewish, fun-loving, sex-and-relationships podcaster who falls for Rabbi Noah’s charm. She’s presented as vibrant and carefree, in direct contrast to Noah’s sister-in-law Esther, who is depicted as nagging, abrasive, and—worst of all, it seems—brunette. While Esther is clearly beautiful, intelligent, and an excellent mother, the series does little to celebrate these qualities. It instead leans heavily on her role as the stereotypical stick-in-the-mud Jewish wife. This dynamic is made explicit when Noah breaks up with his long-term Jewish girlfriend and begins pursuing Joanne. Noah’s friend remarks, “We love fun, but do we end up with fun?” To which Noah’s brother chimes in, “Yeah, have you met Esther? She’s not fun. That’s why I married her.”
With Esther embodying the stock character Jewish American Princess, Noah’s mother, Bina, steps in to perpetuate the Jewish mother stereotype. Like Esther, Bina is written with little nuance. Just when Joanne thinks she’s won over her boyfriend’s prickly mother, Bina leans in mid-hug to whisper, “You’re never gonna end up with my son.” In the final episode of the season, Bina and Esther stand facing the audience, Bina scowling like a cartoon villain while Esther schemes, “Those fucking sisters have got to go.” What gets completely glossed over, however, is that Esther’s anger is entirely justified. Moments earlier, she discovers that her husband is seemingly having an emotional affair with Joanne’s sister. Rather than delve into Esther’s pain, the show reduces her to a bitter antagonist.
One bright spot is Rabbi Shira, a mentor of Noah’s, who stands out as funny (blonde!) and welcoming to Joanne in ways that most other Jewish characters are not. Unfortunately, her warmth is overshadowed by the show’s overwhelmingly negative portrayal of Jewish women. Even minor characters perpetuate this pattern, like a congregant of Noah’s who scolds Joanne for loitering outside and demands she leave the premises. In my three decades of regular synagogue attendance, I have never seen anyone—other than a security guard—tell someone to leave. On the contrary, in my experience, it is women who go out of their way to welcome newcomers.
Ironically, the show does a good job of illustrating the low grade antisemitism Jewish men face, even as it reinforces harmful stereotypes against Jewish women. Non-Jewish characters repeatedly express surprise at Noah’s attractiveness, as if his being Jewish and a rabbi should preclude him from being handsome—a sentiment I’ve heard uttered in real life, including by the DJ at a rabbinic student’s wedding. In one scene, Joanne’s sister texts her, “He’s cuter than I expected; he doesn’t look that Jewish.” Later, Joanne’s mother exclaims, “Oy vey! A Jewish Rabbi!” before gushing, “I had no idea you were so handsome. I mean, you look just like Billy Joel.” As Joanne is quick to point out, the two look nothing alike. It’s a common experience for Jewish people: being compared to Jewish celebrities with whom we share little-to-no resemblance. It’s a subtle microaggression, but one that reminds us of the narrow lens through which Jews are often viewed.
The show isn’t all bad. I binge-watched the series in a week. It captures the beauty of Jewish traditions like Shabbat, and the holiday’s lesser-known counterpart, Havdalah. And the scene where Noah is swarmed by congregants after Friday night services (including by a proud mom who wants to show him her son’s student film: “a documentary about the history of documentaries”) is particularly relatable.
When I asked my female Jewish friends for their thoughts, not all shared my critiques. One rabbinic colleague argued, “I know these women!” It’s true that many of us know overbearing mothers or abrasive relatives. But in real life, those same women might work tirelessly for their families or devote their lives to charity. Nobody is as one-dimensional as the Jewish women in Nobody Wants This. Perhaps the saddest consequence of these stereotypes isn’t the inaccurate messages they send to the outside world, but the impact they have on our own self-image, shaping how we see ourselves and judge each other. In university, a non-Jewish classmate once half-jokingly called me a “JAP.” A few months later, as I prepared to go on Birthright, I caught myself worrying about being surrounded by “JAPs” on the trip. Instead, I met an incredibly down-to-earth group of Jewish peers. I was ashamed to have let the preconceived notions of outsiders cloud my view of my own people. I pray that season two pulls back the layers of Bina and Esther to reveal the humanity beneath their harsh exteriors, just as we get to see with Joanne and her sister. We deserve representation that shows the complexity of Jewish life—flaws and all, but goes beyond the “JAP” stereotype.
Season one ends with Noah torn between his desire to become senior rabbi of his congregation and his feelings for Joanne, who does not want to convert to Judaism. Just this year, Hebrew Union College—the American Reform seminary where I was ordained—made the controversial decision to allow clergy to intermarry. Interfaith relationships involving Jewish clergy is a fascinating premise for a TV show and offers a ripe opportunity to showcase the vibrancy and complexity of Jewish life. I only hope season two rises to the challenge. Because either way, millions of us will be watching.