Jewish World Review June 7, 1999/ 23 Sivan, 5759

Elliot B. Gertel

Suddenly Susan's
Death of a Rabbi

"SUDDENLY SUSAN" REMAINS a hard program to like, especially if one takes Judaism seriously and has a respect for the life-enhancing powers of humor.

Too nasty to be gentle and too witless to be insightful, this workplace comedy about the staff of a magazine wears quite thin and chafes away rather quickly at sensibility and taste.

As a Jew, I have been offended by incessant jokes, usually of a sexual nature and on an adolescent level, about women cantors and about male rabbis and their wives. When the writers and producers finally killed off the rabbi husband, Ben (Abie Selznick) of acid-tongued food critic Vicki (Kathy Griffin), I presumed it was the right time to make a hearty L'chaim ("To Life") toast.

My assumption, unfortunately, was premature.

Though the show has gone on, Suddenly's writing and production staff have been unable to let go of Ben or of the suggestions that Vicki shows signs of nymphomania. Writer Michael McCarthy exulted, in an episode guest starring Rick Springfield, in having Vicki exploit her friends by overdoing the grieving widow routine. Other writers repeated that scenario in other episodes.

In a recent episode about Susan (Brooke Shields) running for local political office, Vicki is propositioned by Susan's effective and somewhat ruthless opponent, wrestler Hollywood Hogan. True to "character," Vicki is ready to bolt from her friend's camp into the arms of her suitor.

"You cannot date that gorilla," Susan rebukes. "Because he's not Jewish?" Vicki retorts, indicating this is the least of her concerns --- and that writer Andrew Green has inserted the line just for "laughter of recognition" from Jewish and a few other viewers.

It is indeed hard to like this series, particularly because of the way Jewish concerns and phrases and leaders are paraded for mockery. But many, including this reviewer, could not help feeling sorry for Ms. Shields and the rest of the cast and staff after the tragic suicide of co-star David Strickland (Todd). One episode that I was about to review when the news came was particularly ironic -- and is now haunting -- in its theme and rhetoric.

Written by Phil Baker and Drew Vaupen, it attempted to create touching scenes between the widowed Vicki and co-worker Todd.

Still too shocked to come to terms with Ben's death, Vicki decides to give away all his clothes, rationalizing that he would want to do things for others, like enabling her to have more closet space. The one-liners on Jewish rituals (like the dietary laws) abound here. Says Vicki, upon seeing one of Ben's Hawaiian shirts from the honeymoon, "I could still see him at the pig roast asking if they have any fish."

Vicki insists that Todd take one of Ben's finer outfits. When Todd comes into the office, colleague Luis describes him as "Dead Ben Walking." And Todd begins to break into aphorisms, preaching, answering in parables, giving counsel, using Yiddish words, expressing concern about anti-Semitism. (Someone obviously made up a list of how rabbis are supposed to talk!) Todd observes, "Maybe it's psychological, but maybe wearing a rabbi's clothes makes me feel wiser, more spiritual."

At the end of the episode, he helps Vicki deal with her grief by allowing her to regard him as Ben. "How could you leave me?" Vicki pleads. "My work was done," Ben says. "It was time to go home."

Now these are the words, mind you, that were put into the mouth of Strickland, who plays Todd, not long before his suicide. Consider the "spiritual message" about death straight from New Age platitudes: The time to die is when your work is done. The writers even have Todd tell Vicki that perhaps Ben was using him to say goodbye to her. In other words, the dead have the spiritual power to make their own goodbyes, so how abrupt or devastating can any death be? And in such a context, is suicide anything less than just recognizing when one's work is done and when it is time to go home?

Now, obviously, I am not blaming the staff for Strickland's death. The responsibility for taking one's own life rests only with the individual who contemplates suicide. Judaism regards suicide as a grievous sin, recognizes the ravaging force of mental illness or despair and yet mandates the eternal hope and expectation that sacred teachings and observances will overcome the impulse to self-murder.

The rhetoric in this episode is certainly troubling through hindsight after Strickland's death. But most disturbing and unconscionable in this whole petty series is the reduction of religion (represented by Judaism) to a sex joke (at the end of this episode, too) and of death to a messenger service where "communication" is still possible.

I held this review while waiting to see how the producers, cast and writers would memorialize Strickland and deal with his death. I found out last week. That episode had some redeeming qualities, unlike most of the others. It tried to explain the reasons for the meanness of some of the characters instead of gloating over the nasty one-liners. Yet writers Rick Singer, Marcia Semple and Christopher Vane still exulted in having their widowed rabbi's wife, Vicki, scheming to date a Gentile and willing to "say grace" in order to win his respect.

And Susan's grandmother (Barbara Barrie) was appointed high priestess by these writers of the only religion for which they seem to have any reverence: the New Age belief in "sending out positive energy" and thus communicating with the lost - and the dead.

The most serious and pious line of any episode was flashed on the screen: "The gods of comedy looked down on you and smiled." I guess that after monotheism has been mocked for a couple of years, you come to a point where you don't even miss it.

05/13/99: During the "sweeps," religion suffers