Shtisel converts ultra-orthodox from ‘other’ into ‘a bit like us’

JORDAN MOSHE

Hit-Israeli drama Shtisel offers viewers, both Jewish and non-Jewish, a fresh perspective that not only humanises, but injects dynamism into a group of hitherto faceless individuals.

Originally produced and aired by Israeli network YES in 2013, Shtisel has risen to the height of popularity since it recently became available on Netflix.

Centred on a Charedi family living in Jerusalem, the series presents incarnations of the real-life charedi figures we see on the streets of ultra-orthodox neighbourhoods like Geula and Meah Shearim. These are people to whom we seldom pay even a moment’s attention.

The production follows the story of recently widowed Shulem Shtisel, a religious teacher at a local all-boys cheder (ultra-orthodox primary school), whose loss and responsibilities threaten to overwhelm him.

In addition to supporting his many married children, his youngest son, Akiva, still lives with him at home. The two frequently clash over shidduch (arranged marriage) offers (which Akiva constantly turns down), and his son’s artistic inclinations, which the father considers a waste of time.

The ultra-orthodox are too often depicted in films with a disturbing storyline, and painted as a repressive, backward society. Not so here, with these and other personalities at last being given the opportunity to laugh, cry, mourn, and celebrate in ways to which any person can relate.

While they may lead Charedi lifestyles, each of the characters face conflicts – emotional, familial, and relating to daily life – that are commonplace in all walks of life. The personal struggles and challenges that come with the cloistered lifestyle of a religious corner of Jerusalem are not limited to their locale, but could be the stuff of anyone’s life.

The fact that the characters speak in a blend of Yiddish and Hebrew doesn’t change the universal message this Israeli series seeks to transmit.

In scenes which feature food, tea, and cigarettes aplenty, we watch Shulem’s aged mother, Bubby Malcha, marvel at the ingenuity of television, and add the names of the programme’s characters to her tehillim (psalms) list. We share in Akiva’s sister, Giti’s, struggle to support her children when her husband leaves her. We also feel the awkwardness which pervades Akiva’s shidduch dates with women he hasn’t met before.

What Shtisel effectively gives us is not a screen, but a mirror, one in which we see reflected our own lives, be they secular or orthodox. The lives of people too often maligned are presented with all their challenges, family conflicts, and the ceaseless efforts to find meaning in the everyday.

We see people who could easily be playing out the struggles of our own lives, and realise that we’re perhaps more alike than we previously thought.