The Commentator

The more I begin and abandon this article after the first two paragraphs, the more I realize that while this article could be about many things, trying to make it so will doom it to becoming none of them.  So, instead of focusing on why and how I came to Hollywood to pursue a career as a television writer, I will limit myself to discussing some of the points at which my experiences intersect with my religion.

Practically, the main obstacle for Orthodox Jews attempting to work in the TV/movie industry is Shabbos.  There are essentially two parts to making a film or TV show—writing and everything else, which is called production.  If the word “production” suggests factory work, that’s because it is very much like that.  There are a lot of workers, each with his or her own specialty.  They work very long hours, many of which they spend standing around waiting.  Some comedies film only a couple of times a week, but most shows film five days a week, including Friday nights.  There are a lot more jobs on the production side of things, but they require you to be available on Friday nights, and thus are essentially closed to people who can’t work then.  While a smarter, more realistic person may have grasped this concept in principle, I discovered it only through the frustrating experience of getting a call back and an interview that ended when I mentioned my inability to work Friday nights.  I’m only aware of one current shomer Shabbos actor in television, and actors—who only have to be available for the filming of scenes in which they appear- are unique among the production staff in their ability to alter their schedules of availability.  Other people on the production side do not have that flexibility.

For the religious Jew, that leaves writing.  While writing for a television show may present scheduling conflicts with Shabbos and Yom Tov, several Orthodox Jews have successfully worked around these problems.  Most Jews who enter the professional world and strive to be shomer Shabbos encounter these conflicts at one point or another.  Nevertheless, from what I have seen and heard, if Orthodox Jews are upfront and honest about what their religion allows and forbids (and it doesn’t interfere with a production schedule), TV/movie people are surprisingly understanding, respectful, and accommodating of their religious obligations.  For example, when my last boss in Hollywood understood the difficulties I faced in procuring kosher food at the remote location where we were filming, he personally gave me money to buy microwaveable meals and instructed the catering staff to prepare the food for me per my instructions.  He is an exceptionally generous man, but I have not found that spirit of tolerance to be as exceptional as I originally feared.

Even if the religious Jewish scriptwriter finds the practical challenges to his or her career surmountable, perhaps no more difficult than those of the average job, he or she may find that writing for television presents unique challenges to Orthodox Jews.  Leaving aside certain branches of Orthodoxy that condemn owning or viewing a television altogether, even Modern Orthodoxy maintains an ambivalent relationship with the medium.  Besides being a waste of time, television has the reputation of being a conduit to inappropriate content.  How could any religious Jew contribute to that?

When I was first thinking of moving to Los Angeles, I contacted a few Orthodox writers and asked them about how they dealt with the apparent conflict.  One failed to see any conflict, to the extent that he didn’t understand the question.  Another differentiated between shows that are about sex or violence and shows that use instances of sex or violence incidentally or illustratively.  A third acknowledged some sort of problem and said it was something I should struggle with my whole career, but thought that if I was doing good work, I would have nothing to be ashamed of.  Not surprisingly, these vague and tepid responses did not entirely assuage my worries about a conflict.  However, they helped me realize the two main difficulties with my method of inquiry: I wasn’t phrasing the question sharply because I wasn’t sure exactly what I was asking and I was looking for an objective answer to a question that had to be answered subjectively—to my own satisfaction.

Returning to the question, perhaps I can better define the source of the apparent conflict by breaking down the content using the television ratings system, NLSV (nudity, language, sex, and violence).  As people, as Jews, and especially as religious Jews, we’re usually against violence.  And while we’re OK with sex, we like to keep it out of the public eye.  And there is a concept of avoiding “bad” or “vulgar” language — of speaking in euphemisms if the conversation is necessary.  So, to me, there are potentially two problems here: 1) Depicting a life based on a value system in some ways antithetical to mine.  2) Possibly subjecting other people to things they should probably avoid watching.

I don’t think the first is a real problem.  In fact, it may argue for more religious Jews writing for TV.  Good writing usually depicts life as it is, not as it should be.  Entertaining writing sometimes depicts life as the writers wish it (or as the writers believe the viewers wish it), not life as it is.  While the life depicted on television and in movies rarely reflects the values of religious Jews, I don’t think religious Jewish writers have to depict a life that only reflects their values.  A writer can make it clear he or she doesn’t agree with the actions or lifestyles of the characters by methods obvious and subtle: a movie can end with the imprisonment of a violent, profane adulterer, with the villain’s more sympathetic foil triumphing, with an authority figure coming down in a machine to bring everyone to their senses, or with the viewers being allowed to draw their own conclusions – viewers can learn from the story in many ways.  The Torah (l’havdil) isn’t always a list of things to emulate.  Sometimes the people in the stories make mistakes.

As for subjecting other Jews to things they should probably avoid watching, I am less sanguine.  While violence and bad language are not the types of things Jews should immerse themselves in, taking them in is not technically forbidden by halacha, as far as I know (though I do not doubt that a creative posek could come up with several technical violations).  Specific halachot, however, clearly proscribe watching erva, and attempt to shield Jews from being subjected to sex and nudity outside the context of their own marriages.  While the prohibition of histaklus (as I understand it, looking at a woman for pleasure) leaves some room for subjectivity, as a general rule, Jews really shouldn’t be subjecting themselves to scenes of nudity and sex.  I guess you could talk about the nudity in Schindler’s List or something and say it depends on context, but that’s a stretch of a comparison; most of the nudity and sex on TV or in movies cannot be classified as anything other than erva, which probably makes a person responsible for it guilty of “lifnei iver.”

After worrying about these philosophical questions for a while, I ended up working for Deadwood, a show that exposed viewers to copious amounts of violence, obscenity of record-setting proportions, and some sex and nudity as well (at least some of which a reasonable viewer could be expected to find pleasurable).  Deadwood also featured wonderful use of language and insight into the human character; to the extent that some people called it the best-written show on television (its first season won a Golden Globe to that effect).  Over the course of my internship, I wrote drafts of many scenes (most of which never made it onto the show).  I never actually wrote any sex scenes or scenes with nudity – I don’t know if that was a conscious decision or a lack of opportunity.  While I felt that the show did not usually use the nudity or sex gratuitously or in an erotic context, I am still not entirely comfortable being associated with that part of the show (the language also bothered me, to a lesser extent; the violence, less so), and would not feel comfortable recommending Deadwood to several of my friends.

If I am still not comfortable with some aspects of writing for television then why am I still trying to do it?  Well, for one thing, I like writing.  I believe I’ve been blessed with a talent for it (despite the evidence of this article to the contrary) and, as far as I can tell, it’s what I do best.  I think that television gives me the best chance to make a living as a writer, and that the improbable confluence of coincidences that has given me several great opportunities to possibly make my living that way suggests to me that I should at least give it a try.

However, on a broader level, returning to my first potential problem with Hollywood writing—its depiction of a value system antithetical to Judaism’s—I think that, given the opportunity, a religious Jew should attempt to influence the culture he or she finds objectionable by putting forth his or her own point of view, whether overtly or subtly.  It’s probably not great for Jews to constantly imbibe a lifestyle that is not theirs—inevitably, what they see will stick with them and affect the way they think about the world.  While it is good for them to see other cultures, as most of them will be exposed to those cultures anyway and have to deal with them successfully to make it in the world, if that’s all they see, if that’s the only culture reinforced by media, then Jewish culture and values will suffer from lack of representation.  And while the only way to get those values represented is by depicting them, the only way to get a chance to do that is to go through the system that currently depicts other lifestyles.ⁱ

    Avi Mermelstein (YC ’04) has interned with the writers of The West Wing and Deadwood.  Like everyone else in Hollywood, he is currently working on at least one script.
 

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