A comedian wears out his the boychik routine
“They talked Yiddish, which is the language of coughing and spitting,” says Buddy Young, Jr. of his relatives in Mr. Saturday Night, Billy Crystal’s 1992 misguided attempt at poignancy in the story of a Borscht Belt never-was. He modifies the line in 700 Sundays, telling of grandparents who spoke “a combination of German and phlegm,” and waits for the yuks that he knows will follow.
Now on Broadway, Crystal drops the bitterness and returns to what he does besttotal inoffensiveness. At intermission, I asked the heavy-set blond man next to me, who’d laughed his way through Act One, how he was liking it. “Billy Crystal and I don’t have the same cultural background,” he said, looking intently to make sure I got the euphemism, “but we sort of have the same family”a sentiment which, judging by the ersatz chorus of amens after every mawkish thought, indicated they’re members of a very large brood.
Crystal’s appeal has eluded me ever since he stopped playing Jody, in the closet and spry, on Soap. Though the part itself was pioneering, Crystal played it for laughscongenially, unthreateninglyas he has nearly every role he has ever taken. Appearing on Saturday Night Live lent him hip by association, as have repeated reminders of his link to the Commodore Music Shop and various jazz greats. But the characters he developedFernando, Lou Goldman the “Weatherman,” the masochist who nasally intoned “I hate when I do that”lacked bite from the get-go, and subsequent film roles affirmed he was choosing an untroubling path, coming to embody a new kind of everyman, as seen by the all-too decentultimately vanillaNew Yorker he plays in When Harry Met Sally.
But blandness sells. It’s the key to hosting the Oscars, and to selling out on Broadway. Crystal recycles himselfand the predictable bits offer comfort, never confrontation, with a gee-whiz air. His put-on of modesty in 700 Sundays is surprising given that, as he concedes in his program notes, he has spent his life chasing and winning applause. Crystal’s still a tap-dancing child, after all these years. But he’s a grandfather now too, and the boychik routine has worn impossibly thin.
Modern Orthodox, Daniel Goldfarb’s new play, dramatizes an implausible episode in the life of a secular New York couple. Ben, a sweet, sensitive financier, buys an engagement ring for Hannah from a prying, self-righteous Orthodox diamond merchant. Ben winds up bullying him into removing his yarmulke before he will buy. For days after the play, I was unsettled. What was wrong with Hannah?
Daily rate: $2
Monthly rate: $18
Yearly rate: $180
WAIT, WHY DO I HAVE TO PAY TO COMMENT?
Tablet is committed to bringing you the best, smartest, most enlightening and entertaining reporting and writing on Jewish life, all free of charge. We take pride in our community of readers, and are thrilled that you choose to engage with us in a way that is both thoughtful and thought-provoking. But the Internet, for all of its wonders, poses challenges to civilized and constructive discussion, allowing vocal—and, often, anonymous—minorities to drag it down with invective (and worse). Starting today, then, we are asking people who'd like to post comments on the site to pay a nominal fee—less a paywall than a gesture of your own commitment to the cause of great conversation. All proceeds go to helping us bring you the ambitious journalism that brought you here in the first place.
I NEED TO BE HEARD! BUT I DONT WANT TO PAY.
Readers can still interact with us free of charge via Facebook, Twitter, and our other social media channels, or write to us at email@example.com. Each week, we’ll select the best letters and publish them in a new letters to the editor feature on the Scroll.
We hope this new largely symbolic measure will help us create a more pleasant and cultivated environment for all of our readers, and, as always, we thank you deeply for your support.