Review of the Jewish comic's tale of meeting racists

Alex Edelman barely needs any more praise for Just For Us, given that its much-extended off-Broadway residency last year attracted plaudits from the likes of Jerry Seinfeld and the New York Times. But as an illuminating and funny commentary on the hot topics of identity, tribalism and the growing scourge of antisemitism, its London run is likely to garner more accolades.

To be such an astute social observer was never his intention, the Bostonian comic insists, given that politics always ‘bums everybody out’. He just wanted to tell dumb jokes about gorillas, but circumstances led him here.

After goading  antisemites on Twitter, the site’s algorithm decided Edelman might be interested in attending an event with people with questions about their whiteness. Even more implausibly, he decided to accept the invitation for the thinly-disguised meeting of white supremacists.

Which is how he came to be sharing a New York apartment with 16 people who would hate him, were he not suppressing his heritage. He says he wanted to find out what awful things they had to say, flatter his self-image with the reassurance his morals are virtuous by comparison, and, hopefully, hit it off with one of their number, Chelsea. It would be the perfect meet cute for a quirky romcom he suggests. In terms of love overcoming obstacles, ‘observant Jewish boy meets racist’ is quite the premise.

Essentially, then, Just For Us is the stand-up equivalent of a Louis Theroux documentary, with our inside man trying to politely ingratiate himself into a group of extremists to find out how they act when their guard is down. But with the added jeopardy that there could be some very troubling consequences were he to be exposed as that which they hate.

It comes as no surprise that in this Queens apartment he finds not the master race but a bunch of life’s losers, seeking to apportion blame for their situation to a Jewish or woke elite keeping them down. But Just For Us uses this cracking set-up to offer an insightful interrogation of cliques, identity and fitting in.

Edelman shares stories of his own Orthodox Jewish family, being educated at a yeshiva, attending the same New York synagogue as Donald Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner and, most memorably, experiencing his first Christmas when he was old enough to be awed by all its weird rituals.

The comic knows that as an Ashkenazi Jew, he benefits from white privilege – while being well aware he’s also an outsider compared to the WASPs at the top of the tree. Yet he can fit in even with racists, likening his attempts to win them over with performative charm to succeeding with a comedy audience. His need to be liked, even among those for whom the phrase ‘tough crowd’ seems barely adequate, overrides all. But assimilation comes with complicated baggage.

Such issues are tackled intelligently but lightly, through his skilful, witty storytelling. He never lets the risks of the situation he put himself in be entirely forgotten, but manages to humanise the supremacists, not always in a flattering way, but more nuanced than simply demonising them.

Edelman’s also an engaging narrator, snarky when needs be but with enough self-awareness and ambiguity to endear. His delivery is committed and pin-sharp, making full use of the stage, but disguised as conversational looseness.

Though it has its digressions – such as a notable routine about his brother AJ’s unlikely career as an Olympic skeleton racer for Israel – Just For Us is a  tightly constructed monologue, looping back on ideas and themes. The hands of director Adam Brace, who also worked with Liz Kingsman on her One Woman Show, and the show’s US producer, the master stand-up storyteller Mike Birbiglia, are likely at play here, as well as the fact it's been five years since he first performed this show, at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.

The upshot is 90 minutes of nuanced, rewarding, thought-provoking and frequently hilarious comedy that could barely be more relevant.

• Alex Edelman: Just for Us is at the Menier Chocolate Factory, London Bridge,  until February 26. 

Review date: 19 Jan 2023
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett