Editorial note: Spoilers ahead for “Don’t Say Good Luck.”
In “Don’t Say Good Luck,” Netflix’s new tear-jerker coming-of-age drama, the Birenbaums appear to be like a lot of secular Jewish families.
The front door of their suburban New Jersey home bears a mezuzah, and the mantel piece a menorah and Shabbat candlesticks. They have bagels for breakfast — presumably fresh from the family-owned deli Birenbaum’s. When daughter Sophie (Sunny Sandler) announces she got the lead in her high school play, longtime Birenbaum’s employee Lenny (Jon Lovitz) shouts a hearty “Mazel tov!” And to celebrate, the family (sans Lenny) goes out to celebrate, where else? A renowned Bergen county Chinese-owned tiki restaurant called Lee’s.
That is to say, their Jewishness is omnipresent but oftentimes unspoken. And it’s all a part of a larger portrait of a family in the film which, unexpectedly coming from Adam Sandler‘s Happy Madison Productions, is beautifully tender and moving.
Directed deftly by Julia Hart, “Don’t Say Good Luck” begins with Sophie winning the lead in her high school’s production of “Waitress,” only to learn that her mother Elizabeth’s (Melanie Lynskey) cancer has returned. Suddenly, at the same time that Sophie must move through all the unexpected things that high school has to offer — fights with friends, learning to drive, mixed signals from boys, going to parties, doing well in the musical — the unexpectedness of illness casts a long shadow in her life. Will the Birenbaums be able to go to the beach house they always go to over the summer? Will Sophie’s mom have enough energy to finish the book she’s reading? Will she be well enough to see Sophie take the stage? Is being in the musical even worth losing the precious time the mother and daughter have together?
“Don’t Say Good Luck” offers no relief for the Birenbaums, nor for the viewer. Elizabeth’s cancer is aggressive and expeditious. Even as dad Ted (Max Greenfield) and Elizabeth decide to wait to tell Sophie and their young sons Caleb (Matan M. Friedman) and Ethan (Eitan O. Friedman) about their mom’s prognosis, it doesn’t end up mattering. Within months of her diagnosis, Elizabeth can barely leave bed. It’s a scene Ashkenazi Jews know all too well; carriers of the BRCA gene, a group which includes 1 in 40 Ashkenazi Jews, are more likely to develop breast, ovarian, prostate and pancreatic cancers. Regardless of whether Elizabeth knew this information, Sophie can see the obvious.
In the emotional climax of the movie, Sophie sobs to her mom that she would have not spent so much time doing the show had she known Elizabeth was dying. She’s frustrated at her lack of choice in a scenario where there is no choice to be had, crushed that she didn’t realize sooner and heartbroken that this is her reality. “I wanted to fight it. I wanted to fight it and I tried so hard. I’m trying,” Elizabeth weeps. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t know how to do this.”
It’s a gut punch of a line that is only matched by a moment a few scenes later when Sophie opts to skip the musical and go be with her mom. As they lie in bed together, Elizabeth retells Sophie the story of how she sobbed while watching her daughter perform at a second grade concert. “I had looked for years for a thing that lit me up. And you found it by 7.”
“I’m sorry you never found the thing that lit you up,” Sophie replies, not totally convinced to go back, but willing to do the show for her mom. Elizabeth sniffles and pets Sophie’s hair, whispering, “But I did.”
Sob.
What makes “Don’t Say Good Luck” so compelling, and why it’s the #1 movie on Netflix at the moment, is the fullness of the Birenbaum family. The viewer doesn’t have to try hard to suspend belief that they are real people because screenwriters Julia Hart, Laura Hankin and Jordan Horowitz create a universe for them that is so intimate and knowable. Their calendar is filled with soccer practices and piano lessons. Birenbaum’s the deli is trying out a new healthier kale wrap option. Elizabeth worries about getting the right cheese for when her parents (Steve Buscemi and Bebe Neuwirth) come over. Sophie just wants to shine in the school musical. And, of course, they have a mezuzah on their door, and a menorah and Shabbat candlesticks on their mantle.
When the movie ends, Elizabeth is clapping for Sophie after she has sung for her on the porch in their backyard. She’s sitting in a wheelchair, her hair thin and skin pallid. The beach trip has clearly been abandoned. Her death feels more imminent now, and the viewer is left with that bittersweet in-between-ness when the movie fades to black. But the beauty of storytelling is that its infinitely repeatable. In this case, “Don’t Say Good Luck” is a Jewish movie worth repeating, for all the moments that are unspoken but irrevocably felt.
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