Was I planning to write about “Jewish Matchmaking” in the next TV column, my editor casually asked the other day?
Honestly, walking through the streets of Tehran draped in a Star of David had been higher on my list of preferences than watching Netflix’s latest reality TV dating show. But what can I tell you? It was still a much better option than watching Charles’ coronation and, besides, the follow-up message (“1,200 words on ‘Matchmaking’ by Sunday if you ever want to see your dog again”) convinced me it was a perfectly valid artistic choice for a newspaper such as Haaretz.
I don’t know how many of you have friends or acquaintances who have appeared on a dating show, but from my experience, it is exactly that person you imagined might go on to make a fool of themselves on prime-time television. A classmate of mine who appeared on a British dating show was a perfect example: charming and charismatic, but never likely to be mistaken for the smartest guy in the room.
I’ve always been fascinated by the type of person who allows a film crew to record one of the most painful experiences of their life outside of dental surgery: the first date. In fact, ask me if I’d prefer to have a date or a colonoscopy broadcast to the world and I’d opt for the latter, every time.
Does anyone actually see appearing on a dating TV show as a genuine attempt to find love? Or is it merely a means of getting fast-tracked to the ranks of D-list celebrities? Well, it’s clear that on “Jewish Matchmaking,” love is very much the order of business.
This is not the kind of tawdry reality show that strips its participants of their dignity and clothing in order to titillate viewers, a la “Too Hot to Handle” or “Married at First Sight.” Instead, it’s a spin-off of Netflix’s own “Indian Matchmaking” – and it’s instructive to watch the latter to understand why the Jewish version doesn’t always hit the mark quite so well.
There are two fundamental differences between the shows, the first being their respective matchmakers: Hindu Sima Taparia and Jewish shidduch Aleeza Ben Shalom.
Poor old Sima doesn’t look like she’s cracked a smile since the passing of Gandhi, but makes for great television as she is only too willing to criticize the clients who hire her to find suitable marriage material. One female Indian-American lawyer employing her “thinks finding a life partner is like ordering from a menu,” she sneers.
Orthodox mama Aleeza, meanwhile, looks like one of the nicest people you will ever meet – a cheery, less aerobicized Julia Louis-Dreyfus. There’s more of a chance of her eating a bacon sandwich than bad-mouthing one of her clients. (Disappointingly, we never learn how much clients pay for her services, how profitable a job this is, remuneratively as well as spiritually, or what her selection process is.)
The second difference between the two is that arranged marriages are the norm in India. In fact, they’re so standard (90 percent of all weddings there) that they’re simply referred to as “marriages,” while the organic variety have their own term: “love marriages.”
Of course, while arranged marriages are very much a thing in the ultra-Orthodox Jewish community, that’s not the case for other streams of Judaism. So what we have here is “JDate: the Series,” as a group of Orthodox, Reform and secular Jewish singletons get in touch with Aleeza and ask her to find them their bashert, or soulmate. Their ages range from mid-20s to early 50s, but all appear genuine in their desire for some chuppah action.
At the start, Aleeza informs us that finding your soulmate “is the hardest thing to do in the entire world – and that’s where I come in.” Funnily enough, eight episodes later, she’s changed her tune a little. “I have the hardest job in the world. And if you don’t believe me, just try doing it,” she says.
It’s got to be said that after watching her efforts, I’m not entirely convinced Aleeza’s always bringing her A game. When 25-year-old Nakysha stipulates that she’s not interested in dating a bald man over the age of 35, for instance, Aleeza immediately presents her with a distinctly hairless 38-year-old dude called Ryan.
And when 44-year-old Harmonie makes it quite clear how important a passionate relationship is for her, the matchmaker serves up a sweet but nerdy academic who looks like the bastard child of Woody Allen. File under: “You had one job...”
What Aleeza is very good at is charming the candidates and making them feel at ease when she meets them, whether in the United States or Israel (where she lives on the coast, between Tel Aviv and Haifa). And boy does she have plenty of clients. I lost count of how many we are introduced to during the season – I’m going to take a guess at 10, but don’t sue me if it’s more – and that ultimately does the show a disservice.
After a couple of episodes in the spotlight, each dater exits the story faster than the Tinder Swindler, the fate of their love lives unknown to the viewer. Maybe this is because everything will be revealed in a future season, but it’s a frustrating experience for viewers who – to the show’s credit – will want to know what happens to these people.
Also to the show’s credit is the fact that the clients are, by and large, a charming bunch who you’d happily hang with. Sure, some are shameless narcissists, but it’s nowhere near as many as you might initially fear – especially when the show opens with Dani, a young South African-American who calls herself “the Eyebrow Queen” and whose Instagram account boasts the moniker Iconbrowz.
I genuinely warmed to everyone on screen (except for a couple of potential soulmates who turn out to be douchebags), but three clients in particular made a really strong impression.
First was the aforementioned Harmonie, who appears to have escaped from the set of “And Just Like That…” but is enormous fun with her sanitized dirty talk and stories of micro-dosing.
Then we have Orthodox New Jersey couple Faye and Shaya. I could have watched an entire season focusing on these two as they wrestle with some rarely captured dilemmas. He’s a scream and they have the kind of instant chemistry that money can’t buy, but she wants a husband who will daven three times daily and at least match her religiosity (yes Shaya, “religiosity” really is a word).
Their dates are the one time the show offers an exploration of a truly Jewish relationship (we even get a heart-to-heart with a rabbi). Other times, though, you could be forgiven for thinking that someone being a cat or dog person is more important than their Judaism for some of the clients.
This is ultimately an entertaining diversion that shows just how hard it is to find The One, whether you’re looking in L.A., T.A., Miami or Jerusalem. As a bonus, it offers a very handy Judaism 101 for all those Netflix subscribers who don’t know their hishtadluts from their shomer negiahs.
I went in expecting to hate it, but found myself falling in love with many of the characters. True, “Jewish Matchmaking” will never be my soulmate, but I’m already praying for a second season.
“Jewish Matchmaking” is out now on Netflix.
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2023-05-08 09:22:30Z
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