Mark Reviews Movies: SHIVA BABY

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Review by Mark Dujsik | April 1, 2021

Writer/director Emma Seligman's Shiva Baby is a comedy, but that's only true because we're not in the story. For Danielle (Rachel Sennott), who is very much inside this tale and the one that's playing only inside her head, the events here are more akin to a sort of claustrophobic thriller.

Everything that's hidden, all of the lies, and every ounce of resentment and frustration and insecurity could explode at any moment. It becomes so much that Danielle almost seems to want to detonate the mess herself. It would be a relief from the silent, secret anguish she has to endure.

From the outside, though, Seligman's debut feature is a comedy of errors and manners, about a young woman who is confronted by a series of problems—most of them of her own making—and has to pretend as if nothing is wrong. Danielle is, after all, at a reception following a funeral.

Her parents are there. Her ex-girlfriend, whose life has taken a decidedly more promising path, is there. Extended family members and close friends of the family are in mourning, but the only thing Danielle notices is the presence of Max (Danny Deferrari), a man whom we meet when we first meet Danielle.

The two have sex. She receives some cash from him. He makes sure she takes the bracelet he gifted her.

The arrangement is what people refer to as a "sugar daddy." Danielle gets what she wants, and Max gets what he wants, too, and gets to pretend that he's being philanthropic in his affairs. He's happy to help a "young, female entrepreneur" like Danielle, although this arrangement seems to be the only plan she has in terms of entrepreneurship.

Seligman's screenplay, based on a short film she previously made, piles up complication after complication, guilt upon guilt, and uncertainty after uncertainty. No one else really knows the full picture of Danielle's messy life, although there are clues everywhere for anyone who might take a closer look. The comedy is, not only in seeing how many issues can arise in a short period of time, but also in Danielle trying to hide what she can, when she can, and for however long she can.

It all begins with her arrival at the reception, the first step of the Jewish custom of shiva, the week of mourning following a family member's burial. Danielle doesn't know who has died, and she only really cares in that she knows the deceased will be a vital part of the conversation. Danielle's father Joel (Fred Melamed) laughs off his daughter's questioning. Her mother Debbie (Polly Draper) isn't as amused.

It really doesn't matter who died when Danielle spots Maya (Molly Gordon) entering the house where the reception is taking place. Maya and Danielle once had a romance, although it collapsed from mostly unspoken problems. The young women's respective mothers didn't approve ("No funny business with Maya," Debbie warns her daughter repeatedly over the course of the reception). Maya is now in law school, preparing to make something of her life, and Danielle, recently graduated from college and lying about getting her money from a babysitting gig, has no clue what she wants to do with her life.

That's when Max—"a good Jewish boy," according to all of the older women there—arrives. Danielle is shocked. The two have to make up a story about how they know each other. The gossip mill inside the house, which keeps whispering about Danielle's health or directly telling her that she could stand to eat something, has some more information. Max is married to a non-Jewish woman—a "shiksa princess."

She'll be there any moment, and when Kim (Dianna Agron), the wife, does arrive, she'll be bringing the couple's 18-month-old baby with her. Further complicating matters, Kim almost immediately notices Danielle's bracelet—identical to one she has, which Max gifted his wife.

That's the basic setup. It's impressive how many details and how much tension Seligman creates within such a relatively short amount of time (The film itself is under 80 minutes long, even with credits).

There are little moments, such as the way that women grab Danielle's waist from behind, that become running gags. There are big problems, such as the disappearance of Joel's cellphone making Danielle realize she—after taking some racy photos of herself to send to Max—has lost her own, that become farcical complications. Danielle keeps excusing herself to escape or find some quiet time alone with Max, but since everyone suspects (Debbie is certain there's "funny business" with Maya about to unfold) or is worried (Maya still cares for her) about Danielle in some other context, there's little respite for her.

It's funny for us, but the cleverest part of this comedy is how Seligman uses technique and tone to jarring effect. The story plays out exclusively from Danielle's perspective, so for her, there's nothing funny about the mess that keeps growing. Ariel Marx's score is a discomforting disharmony of strings, and Seligman uses intimate close-ups as the walls and barriers of small-talking, accusatory, or concerned faces close in around our protagonist. Those women sneaking up on Danielle to comment on her weight start to play like jump-scares, too.

We're reminded of the old adage that comedy is just tragedy plus time. In Shiva Baby, though, all of this personal horror of potentially being found out unfolds in the moment and in real time. We're laughing. Danielle isn't. That dichotomy adds both to the humor of this situation and to the underlying misery of this character.

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