Kupa Rashit: Israeli Sitcom's Strength Lies in Its Mediocrity
The Israeli sitcom "Kupa Rashit" (Supermarket) has achieved rare national consensus, appealing across political, religious, and ethnic divides, much like the beloved classic "Zehu Zeh." While some critics with "high foreheads" might dismiss its simple humor, the show's strength lies in its predictable yet well-executed jokes and impeccable comedic timing.
The latest season's premiere focuses on two main plotlines. The first involves Amnon Titinsky, a regular customer and a caricature of a stingy Ashkenazi Jew, who discovers he has a son. Initially hesitant to acknowledge the child for fear of financial claims, his attitude shifts upon learning his son is a talented basketball player, leading to humorous subversions of father-son relationship clichés.
The second plotline centers on Shira Steinbock, the supermarket manager played by Noa Koler, who participates in a poetry slam. Steinbock is portrayed as the show's tragic heroine, a diligent woman with an MBA stuck in a low-level management position, facing a difficult boss and uncooperative staff. She is depicted as a lonely figure, embodying the "Ballad of Lucy Jordan," who realizes her life lacks excitement. Her only supporter is Ramzi, the show's underdog Arab employee.
"Kupa Rashit" is compared to "The Simpsons" for its multi-layered appeal, catering to the entire family with relatable characters. However, its writing is intentionally "flat," avoiding controversial topics and sticking to stereotypes: the Arab employee is a "lovable Arab," the religious butcher is a traditional Mizrahi stereotype, the Russian butcher is a Soviet immigrant cliché, and the cashier is a bitter divorcee. Despite this seemingly bland formula, the show is genuinely funny, eliciting a good-natured smile even from those not erupting in laughter.
The series deliberately avoids sharp satire or profound messages, offering lighthearted entertainment akin to "calorie-free ice cream", enjoyable but leaving no lasting impact. The article questions what this widespread love for such a "sweet, all-Israeli television treat" says about Israelis, suggesting that in an era of easily offended virtual audiences, a true satire on this phenomenon would be too risky for any broadcaster to produce.
