THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
The famed Irish playwright and memoirist Brendan Behan once said that 'other people have a nationality.' The Irish and the Jews have a psychosis. Alex Edelman, in his show, Just for Us, which he brings over from a sold out and extended run in New York to the Menier Chocolate Factory in Southwark, pushes this premise to its utmost limits and raucously and wittily utilizes his cultural heritage to do so.
The show begins with a disclaimer. In its opening moments, Edelman declares that he is not usually that political as a comedian. And while in increasingly political times, it seems rare for a comedian, or any writer or artist for that matter, to be able to produce anything outside of politics, the disclaimer does two things – it reassures us that we're not about to sit through a polemic lecture disguised as comedy and it, by virtue of his avowed lack of political authority, allows Edelman more credibility from us as an audience. In this post-truth era, who better to speak about politics than someone claims no absolute sovereignty over political truth?
It's a slightly disingenuous claim, but not one we're likely to hold Edelman to account for, since what follows is the fascinating – and side-splittingly hilarious – narrative exploration of 'something political' that happened to him in 2017.
Edelman effectively and incisively uses his loud, brash and self-deprecating style to weaponize humor and to wage joyous war on ignorance and bigotry. The whole evening is framed and foregrounded by the tale of his almost accidental infiltration of a right-wing white supremacists' meeting in Queens, NY, where the organisers promise over social media a get together for those who live in New York and have 'questions about' their whiteness.
Weaved into this overarching narrative of the fateful alt-right coffee evening are resonant, insightful, but also uproariously funny interpolations about Edelman's childhood, growing up Jewish in Boston, celebrating Christmas one year and bragging about it to his Yeshiva classmates, and spending an exorbitant amount on online sign language lessons in the noble purpose of comedy, among other things.
Edelman is a masterful storyteller, which is why this feels like both a comedy gig and a spellbinding one man play with both a well developed plot and fully fleshed out characters. There is certainly a wide array of personalities peopling this story, from a suspicious old lady addicted to puzzles and antisemitism, to a WASPish family friend staying for the aforementioned Christmas and benevolently gifting Edelman and his brother 'Jewish' presents, to a potential if moderately racist love interest named 'Chelsea' with whom Edelman flirts throughout the story and with whom at point he envisions living happily ever after in a sweet, but derivative romantic comedy in which he is played ideally by Brad Pitt but realistically by 'thin' Jonah Hill or Jesse Eisenberg. Edelman brings each of these characters to life with nuanced modulations of voice and facial expression.
Perhaps most surprising - and what makes this show most effective - is Edelman's narrative building in a sense of stirring pathos amidst the frantically paced comedic momentum, sharpening the edge of Just for Us as an incisive weapon with which to slice open and subdue the prevailing culture of ignorance at which it is aimed The last few moments are imbued with an undertow of discomfort and neurotic anxiety before a final surprising twist delivers a satisfying sense of comic catharsis.
