Israeli Life:
Laughing Matters
By Allison Kaplan Sommer

With no hope in sight for an end to the intifada, Israelis have taken to their television sets for catharsis through comic relief.

Stand-up comic Eli Yatzpan

At first, there was nothing funny about it. In the earliest months of the outbreak of widespread Palestinian violence more than two years ago, Israel’s major television networks stuck to their standard crisis operating procedure. Regular programming was suspended in favor of nonstop news coverage of the day’s shooting or suicide bombing.

Only in the late hours of the evening did viewers get a return to entertainment programs. But instead of light comedy, the networks broadcast police or hospital dramas—it just did not seem appropriate to laugh so soon after tragedy.

But as the intifada wore on, things began to change. Entertainers realized that the Israeli public desperately needed to relax and forget, even to laugh at their own predicament. Satire and humor have always been a staple of Israeli culture; even in the hardest times, laughter has helped Israelis persevere. So just over a year ago, gradually and carefully, veteran television funnyman Erez Tal began incorporating skits into his comedy show, Rak b’Yisrael (Only in Israel), dealing directly with terrorism and the new intifada.

At first he feared alienating the public, but his fears were allayed when the program shot to the top of the ratings. Only in Israel succeeded big time—attracting some 500,000 viewers in a country with a population of 6 million.

“This was a case, I think, where the sensitivity level of the viewer was much lower than that of the broadcaster,” said Tal, the show’s creator and costar. His company, Menta Productions, produced this and numerous other successful comedy and entertainment shows.

For comedy broadcast live, terrorist incidents have created many a last-minute scramble. The production team of Yatzpan, a late-night comedy talk show named for its star, became adept at making quick changes. Like Jay Leno and David Letterman, Eli Yatzpan, the country’s most popular stand-up comic, normally opens with a monologue about the news of the day, then intersperses interviews with skits featuring his talent for impersonations of Israeli and Arab leaders.

His imitations are so biting that Yatzpan was censured by the Egyptian Foreign Ministry for skewering President Hosni Mubarak. The following night the unrepentant Yatzpan featured Mubarak as a “guest” complaining about the comedian’s treatment of him. (Yatzpan, appearing on split screen, played both himself and Mubarak.) Israeli politicians are less sensitive about the lampooning, and some even encourage him. Histadrut leader Amir Peretz has said that he is more widely recognized and more influential since Yatzpan began making fun of him.

“We are trying to entertain a population under tremendous strain,” Yatzpan said, “both because they are at war and because of very difficult economic circumstances.... our show doesn’t compromise. It looks at reality from a comic point of view. It’s a nightly ritual for many families. They suffer through the news of the day and then they watch our show and laugh at that same news.”

Tal, a 41-year-old with glasses, close-cropped hair and a mischievous smile, believes Israelis appreciate what he calls “relevant escapism.” He delivers the escape for 90 minutes every Thursday night in the roll of Shimon. Talented comedian Orna Banai plays Tal’s co-star, Limor. The hilariously trashy bimbo diva is adorned in tight sequined outfits and feather boas, heavy makeup and pouffy hair. With a hot Mediterranean temper, she is either whipped into a jealous tantrum or giggling with glee.

Only in Israel's Erez Tal and Orna Banai

Fearless Limor chats happily with the enemies Israelis most fear and even teases them from her side of a split screen. On Sheikh Ahmed Yassin’s birthday, Limor danced happy circles around the white-haired spiritual leader of Hamas, planting a birthday kiss on his bearded cheek. “It was so sad, he was 170 years old and there was no one there to celebrate with him,” she told the audience empathetically.

In another episode, she eyed the long robe of another Muslim extremist and asked, “Tell me, who is your dressmaker?” In a virtual visit she dropped in on Palestinian Authority President Yasser Arafat, holed up in his Ramallah fortress without electricity, surrounded by Israeli troops. Gazing at the candlelight, she said, “Yasser, how romantic. Where is Suha?” An ongoing gag has been her tumultuous fictional romance with United States Special Envoy to the Middle East General Anthony Zinni, who she claimed kept returning to the Middle East to chase her instead of pursuing peace. Pulling out her ringing cell phone mid-broadcast, Limor would coo to Zinni in broken English. “Hi, Zinni, my love. Wait for me naked in the jacuzzi, O.K.? I’ll be right there.” Showing off a newspaper headline, “Zinni Is Frustrated and Disappointed,” Limor explained that their love affair was the source of his frustration.

In addition to its tremendous popularity in Israel, Only in Israel attracts Palestinian fans. A news program featured an interview with a Palestinian in Ramallah who said Limor should come to his city so they could hang out together and have a few laughs. When cohost Shimon asked Limor whether she was afraid to make the trip, she replied, “No, I’m not scared, but there are practical matters to consider. I’d really planned to live a few more years.”

In another now-classic skit that followed a string of bombings in Israeli cafés and restaurants, Shimon and Limor dressed for a date wearing flak jackets. Whenever a glass was dropped or a champagne cork popped, they both dove under the table. When Shimon walked out after a squabble, Limor cried, “Shimon! Don’t abandon your comrade on the battlefield!”

Even after it was clear the show was a ratings success, Tal continued to worry about offending viewers. “It was hardest at first, with constant debate about whether to broadcast, what to broadcast, how much to broadcast. But the debates stopped when we began to get such a warm reaction from the viewers,” Tal recounted.

Since the show is taped the day before, Tal and his team cover their bases. In the event of a terror incident a prepared warning is broadcast at air time, stating the program was “taped before today’s terrible events.”

Yatzpan has cancelled his program only three times because of circumstances in which he simply could not be funny. At other times he has adjusted his opening, giving it a quieter, sadder start, then easing into comedy. Yatzpan, who although not Orthodox is a devout Jew of Iranian heritage, frequently consults with his rabbi on these decisions.

“The rabbi told me I must make the Jewish people happy,” Yatzpan said. “After all, who was it that invented humor but the Jews? Jewish humor comes out of pain and suffering; Jews don’t have any other choice. They have to laugh about their troubles.”

Both Yatzpan and Tal feel something of a patriotic responsibility to continue to try to make Israelis laugh at a time when so many are depressed and frightened. Both admit they have been surprised and moved by the positive reactions. “It just amazes us that we have gotten almost no complaints, only gratitude,” said Yatzpan. “We have received letters from people who were wounded and from families of those killed, thanking us for making them smile.

“It all makes me so proud to be Israeli. I don’t think there is another country like us in the world,” Yatzpan said. “Our level of democracy and freedom of speech is unlimited, and it’s amazing to me that I am allowed to do what I do,” making fun of Israel’s leaders.
In fact, Tal has become such a valuable commodity that in December, he was wooed away from Channel Two, where his shows have appeared for the past 10 years. The newspaper Ha’aretz cited sources saying that Tal’s two-year contract with Israel’s new network, Channel 10, was for more than $5 million.

It can be difficult for those not living in the Israeli reality to understand the need for this kind of televised catharsis. Tal recounted that after Only in Israel received international attention, some of the European media “described us as the people who laugh at suicide bombers, like we think terrorism is funny.”

Both entertainers agree that the original decision to cancel entertainment was wrong. “The only result is to make people more nervous, depressed and scared,” said Yatzpan.

“Mourning has its place, of course, but doing it all the time doesn’t bring us anywhere,” Tal agreed. “These days, we return to the regular routine and regular programming as quickly as possible. It’s not because we hurt any less, it’s because we have no other choice.”