Will Broadway’s Alex Edelman be our new straight (bi?) BFF?

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A post shared by Alex Edelman’s Just For Us (@justforusshow)

The Rundown

Sometimes we need a reminder that guys — straight, gay, and everything in between — aren’t all pigs. Enter Alex Edelman.

After performances in London, Edinburgh, Melbourne, Boston, and Washington, D.C., and an Off-Broadway run extended six times, Edelman’s one-person show, Just For Us, has finally arrived on Broadway.

With quickfire delivery, Edelman recollects how following anti-Semitic Twitter accounts leads him to bravely go where few Jews have gone: a White Nationalists meeting in Queens, New York. Dodging interrogations by its attendees, he offers a lucid and laughable account of what happens next.

No Tea, No Shade

Wearing a grey button-up shirt, khakis, and sneakers, Edelman could be one of the thousands of adorably nebbish guys roaming around Brooklyn, SoHo, the Upper West Side, or anywhere else millennial New Yorkers hang out.

But instead, he enters the eye of the storm, first establishing a Twitter feed of haters after someone attacks him online for being a Jew. He names it “Jewish National Fund Contributors,” knowing they’ll be notified when they’re added to the list.

Then, on a random Tuesday night while following the feed, he sees a Tweet, “… if you live in New York City and you’re curious about your #whiteness—” along with a Queens address.

Edelman recalls the meeting’s details, from chatting with attendee Chelsea and confessing mixed feelings (“We talk for about ten minutes and she does most of the talking, which is a red flag but not a deal breaker.”) to the impact of being raised in a religious household. (“Like, if I was raised secular in a cool place like New York or Los Angeles, I think I’d consider myself bisexual. But because I was raised religious in a repressed place like Boston, I consider myself straight with some secrets.”)

Stories seamlessly pivot from the meeting to Edelman’s other observations about family, religion, and how fear of otherness can quickly descend into hatred.

Let’s Have a Moment

Some are suspect of Edelman from the onset, like Cortez, who keeps a sharp eye on the visitor throughout the meeting, ultimately drilling him with a line of questions until he admits his bluff.

In retrospect, Edelman recognizes the nuances of what he put himself through, often finding a punchline with multiple targets, unveiling different levels of whiteness, Judaism, and tolerance.

Months after the incident, he confesses the experience to a new girlfriend.

“Just so you know, this is the epitome of white privilege,” she tells him. “Nothing says white privilege more than a Jew walking into a meeting of white nationalists and being like, ‘This’ll probably be fine.'”

The Last Word

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A post shared by Alex Edelman’s Just For Us (@justforusshow)

At 970 seats, Broadway’s Hudson Theatre is a large house for one quirky comedian to fill.

While recent Off-Broadway runs of Judy Gold’s Yes, I Can Say That! and Anthony Rapp’s Without You prove theatergoers are hungry for personal stories, Edelman goes next level, challenging the audience to consider our individual acts of roleplaying.

“This isn’t so different from the meeting. It’s not,” he says, looking into the audience. “I’m only telling you the parts about me I think you’ll like. Because the thing is, like if you guys knew me for real, you wouldn’t like me. There’d be something about me. I’d be too much, or I’d be like not enough. Or I’d be too Jewish, or not Jewy enough. Or, or I’d be too weird or too basic. There’s always something.”

Trust us, Alex. You’re likable. Like straight-gay-bi likable.

Just For Us plays at Broadway’s Hudson Theatre through August 19, 2023.

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