This past weekend, my roommate and I settled into our couch to take part in what has become a customary 45–minute, typically fruitless scroll through Netflix. After a mad search for the Roku remote (another one of our long-standing evening traditions), we decided on the aptly named “Roommates,” a new comedy starring Sadie Sandler.
Trailers for the film had felt reminiscent of “Overcompensating,” a show we had both adored, so we were expecting something similarly silly, raunchy and topical; or, at the very least, an “it’s so bad it’s good” cinematic experience set to an upbeat soundtrack.
What we got did not disappoint in the slightest. And how could it, with an all-star cast featuring hilarious Jews like Sarah Sherman and Carole Kane? But what stood out to us most wasn’t the quality of Sadie’s acting, though she was unexpectedly great – and not even just on the Nepo Baby Talent Scale. It was Sadie’s onscreen Jewish parents, Brian and Hannah, portrayed by the iconic (and Jewish IRL) comedians Nick Kroll and Natasha Lyonne.
While religion is far from a major plot point, the film makes it evident that Sadie’s character, Devon, is from a Jewish family. The shelves in their living room house a menorah; a bat mitzvah invitation is plastered to Devon’s bedroom vanity (possibly an easter egg referencing Sadie’s sister Sunny’s film?); Brian wears a Knicks shirt to bed and they all love to play Settlers of Catan. (Those last two might be a bit of a stretch, but both feel very Jewish-adjacent to me.) Also, their last name is Weiscz.
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It was refreshing to see the family’s Judaism implied in such a clear, yet casual way, especially as so much film and TV – I’m looking at you, “Nobody Wants This” and “It: Welcome to Derry” – continues to rely on the use of stereotypes or a lazy sprinkling of Yiddish buzzwords to indicate a character’s Jewishness.
There are a handful of moments in which Hannah and Brian appear to play the part of stereotypically anxious Jewish parents. My roommate and I snorted when Devon FaceTimes her parents from her dorm’s laundry room and is greeted with an immediate, “Where are you? It looks dangerous.” However, these moments are fleeting and feel sufficiently self-aware, especially as they occur in the midst of more telling interactions between the Weisczs and their children.
Lyonne’s Hannah and Kroll’s Brian are like the Jewish equivalent of everyone’s dream movie parents, Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson in “Easy A” (2010). They’re so cringey that they’re cool, make such terrible jokes that the jokes become indisputably hilarious. They have no issue with cursing in the house (in response to a dinner announcement, Brian lets out an exasperated, “WHAT HAPPENED TO FUCKING CHICKEN FINGERS?”). They say things like, “Whatever you want, baby,” upon introducing themselves to new guests before enveloping said guests in a bear hug. They encourage Devon to go to high school parties, and when Devon is visibly panicking about college, Hannah calmly steps in to interrupt Devon’s mental spiral and assuage her anxiety, not exacerbate it.
Hannah and Brian are a far cry from the agitated, perpetually disapproving and overbearing Jewish parent cliché. Yet, they’re also fundamentally, crucially concerned; they care about Devon and her brother with an intensity that is occasionally mocked by its recipients, but never demonized.
There’s a scene in the film where Devon’s roommate Celeste snoops around Devon’s childhood bedroom during her stay at the Weiscz’s. She spots a swimming trophy and points it out, smirking, and Devon clarifies, “I actually came in last place. But my parents just made me that because they were proud I participated? Look at the inscription. It literally says, ‘best try.’” Celeste’s face falls. She remarks, “Wow, your parents never wanted you to feel bad, did they?” Devon giggles uncomfortably, rolling her eyes as she responds, “Yeah, they love me. I feel like maybe too much sometimes?”
This exchange later proves to be a pivotal one in the girls’ relationship (no spoilers!), but what truly struck me was its undeniable familiarity. I should clarify here that my parents are infinitely less cool and laid-back than Natasha Lyonne and Nick Kroll are in this film and, I imagine, in general. But how often have I complained about my own Jewish parents being a bit “too much” in what was, at its core, a display of sincere care? Or rolled my eyes at their excessive “I love yous” and the (sometimes warranted, sometimes objectively ridiculous) frequency of their calls and texts?
Even the way Hannah and Brian Weiscz insist on hosting Celeste for Thanksgiving upon learning she had nowhere else to go – that invitation was so matter-of-fact it bordered on aggressive, the very act of welcoming someone who needs it presented as a given. I recall looking over at my roommate before we both erupted into laughter because our Jewish parents are notorious for doing the very same. All of this felt more authentically Jewish to me than any menorah prop or bat mitzvah party reference ever could.
Of course, I recognize that not every Jewish family operates in this way, and that I’m exceptionally lucky to know the kind of “too much” love that “Roommates” paints so surprisingly well. I’m grateful for this addition to the canon of Jewish family representation in pop culture. And at the risk of sounding sappy, I’m even more grateful for the reminder to appreciate the Jewish parents who, at their core, somehow hold all that “too much” love for their kids.
