Episode seven of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, the latest Golden Globe–winning, Jewish-led TV comedy, opens on lead character Rebecca Bunch sitting in her car and spying on her crush, a Filipino-American named Josh Chan. And we think, OK I get it; she’s the namesake crazy ex-girlfriend, and the show is about how obsessed she is with this dude.
Except beside her is her best friend, Paula, who delivers the line that strikes at the heart of why we’re watching this show at all.
“You need to be with Josh,” Paula insists. “If not for you, then for me… I need this. My marriage is like The Walking Dead, OK? We are all just trying to get out alive. You and Josh are a love story – it gives me hope.”
That thought captures not just the show’s own central theme, but also why any of us watch TV at all. Paula is the audience – gripped to social media, curious about others’ lives, and, frankly, obsessed with television.
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The show, which wraps up its first season this month, has gotten rave reviews from critics – it blends musical numbers with a colourful Kimmy Schmidt-style optimism that insists women can embrace their femininity while still being honest, emotional and hilarious.
In particular, Jewish media have themselves fallen in obsessive love with lead actress and showrunner Rachel Bloom. She’s enchanting to watch, yes, but also proud to pepper the show with references to her religion. “Jews talk about being Jewish a lot,” she told JTA this March. “They’re very aware of their Jewish identity, so in getting specific with the character, it was natural to make Rebecca own that Jewishness.”
But amid all the accolades and praise, the show’s most fascinating quality has gone largely unmentioned – that is, its meta-commentary on the nature of public obsession.
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend tells the story of Rebecca Bunch, who, in a fit of deep-seated depression, quits her high-profile Manhattan law firm and moves to West Covina, Calif., after a chance encounter with Josh. (The two only dated for one summer during camp – just the latest example of great Jewish summer camp love stories we’re getting these days.)
It’s a profoundly irresponsible move indicating a deeper life crisis. As Lisa A. Phillips has commented in New York Magazine, the show aptly presents her unrequited love as signalling “deeper things in our lives.”
But Bunch’s obsession is only the most superficial of the show’s psychological web. Paula sometimes literally watches Rebecca’s life unfold onscreen: At one point Rebecca hooks up a hidden camera to her dress, allowing Paula to spend an entire evening ignoring her family and watching the comedy on her smartphone.
Then there’s Greg, Josh’s best friend, who reluctantly falls for Bunch himself, and who constantly comes back to her despite knowing she doesn’t return his feelings (epitomized by the terrific Fred Astaire-style musical number, Settle for Me, pictured above).
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It’s no coincidence that Bunch’s neighbour is a psychology student whose first instincts are to study Bunch, nor that numerous episodes deal with prescription drugs and people trying to cover up how weird it is to care so much. Even Bunch’s boss has a song about how much he wishes he could express his love for his daughter – “I love my daughter, but not in a creepy way,” he croons.
In short, though I never thought I’d make this observation about a CW network program, this show is a deeply psychological experience. It addresses head-on that people care deeply about people, things, storylines, characters; and yet, to admit it publicly, we’re suddenly vulnerable. But really, who’s crazier – the crazy ex-girlfriend, or the people obsessively watching her every week?
