Watching television as a Jew always comes with discomfort. Will there be Jewish characters? How will they be depicted? And why is it almost always unsatisfying?
A familiar dread set in last year when Netflix’s “Running Point” premiered and introduced Max Greenfield’s Lev Levenson as the Jewish fiancé of Isla Gordon (Kate Hudson). His name alone rang alarm bells.
And sadly, my instincts were right. The show’s Jewish representation was disappointing throughout that first season, and remains that way through its recently released second season, too.
Why? There’s a subtle moment in season two, at Lev and Isla’s rehearsal dinner, that captures exactly my issue with how the show handles Jewish identity.
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As Isla makes a toast, champagne in hand, she says: “But Lev, you are definitely not a Gordon.”
Meant as a compliment, she’s trying to contrast his generosity with her family’s distrusting nature. But it also (unintentionally) perfectly sums up how “Running Point” more broadly positions Lev (and by extension, Jewish people) as the “Other.”
For the unfamiliar, the series follows Isla, newly in charge of her family’s fictional basketball team. Each episode, she navigates their dysfunctional relationships and her leadership role in a male-dominated sports industry.
And every time Judaism surfaces, Isla’s world situates Jewish people on the margins, her distance reducing us to caricatures and outsiders.
Like when she compliments Lev by calling him a “Jewish Chris Evans,” the qualifier separating him from mainstream white male beauty standards.
Or when she seats Lev’s cousins with her aunt at their wedding simply because she’s from New York. Even though they aren’t, she reasons “they have a lot in common culturally.”
And when the show moves beyond joking about Jewish identity into an actual storyline about it, the problem only deepens.
In season one, episode 5, “Beshert,” Isla grapples with a drunken promise to convert to Judaism. After her brothers frame conversion as abandoning the family (and a threat to her inheritance), she becomes more defiant.
“You don’t tell Isla Gordon what goddamn religion she can or can’t be… they’ve never seen a Jew like me.”
What follows is a montage of her surface-level “commitment”: watching “Curb Your Enthusiasm” and “Sex and the City,” joking “If loving smoked salmon is a crime, then lox me up” and wiping Lev’s face with an awkward “You’ve got some schmutz.”
At the end of the episode at their engagement party, Isla decides not to convert. Lev reassures her that they can still build a life together while preserving their own identities. While a beautiful message, the problem is how Judaism is treated up until this moment. It’s basically a prop for Isla’s self-discovery.
The couple’s sweet, loving conversation also ends by yet again flattening Jewish identity. Lev jokes that they still need to raise future children Jewish or else it would become “a whole thing” with his parents, calling them “nuts.” We never hear directly from his parents about why these traditions matter. We’re just meant to engage in that collective eyeroll reserved for the kind of Jewish parents who haven’t gotten with the times and whose (in this case, assumed) hopes for a Jewish family are seen as outdated pressure.
That lack of nuance carries into every scene with Lev’s parents, particularly his mother, where they are never expanded beyond caricature.
When we first meet his parents in season one, they spend too long complaining about their flight, a stereotypical representation of melodramatic, whiny Jews.
At the rehearsal dinner in season two, the caricature sharpens. Lev’s mom, Linda, serves as the butt of the joke, an overbearing Jewish mother archetype, her attempts to preserve cultural accuracy treated as a nuisance.
After Isla jokes in her speech about having “Friday night dinner once a year with the squishy bread,” Linda interjects, “Shabbat… and it should be once a week.” Isla responds with a dismissive giggle and quick “thank you” before moving on.
The dynamic repeats when her brother Cam (Justin Theroux) takes the stage.
“Now, tomorrow’s going to be super Jewish, and I’m fine with that, but the Gordons are Scottish,” he says. Setting up a bit, he vaguely references “the dance with the chairs and the circle.” Linda corrects him: “The hora.” With full seriousness, he replies: “That’s right, Linda. The horror.” His speech ends with a bagpipes and kilt performance, and we never see what a “super Jewish” wedding even looks like.
“But the Gordons are Scottish.”
“But Lev, you are definitely not a Gordon.”
In these lines, I hear something more sinister, even if unintentional: But Jews, you’re definitely not part of our world. And he constant caricaturizing only cements that.
Show co-creator David Stassen previously defended these types of Jewish jokes as “making fun of the people saying it” and “punching up.”
I disagree. These jokes may mostly intend to highlight the Gordons’ ignorance, but is it punching up when Jews generally aren’t making the jokes and no one faces consequences? The Gordons are framed as flawed but lovable, which invites the audience to laugh off their offensive remarks as part of their charm.
At a time when antisemitism is, as always, on the rise, jokes on television would be better if they gave Jews more agency and power. At the very least, it would be nice to use humor as a way to show our nuanced selves, outside of tired stereotypes. When it comes to “Running Point,” we’re not getting that at all.
