Eating (and feeding our loved ones) is in the lexicon of the Jewish experience. Jewish culture is, in part, defined by its food and meals. It’s complicated, because The Nanny doesn’t entirely get it wrong: Jews do love to eat. A memory flashed to the forefront of my mind - watching The Nanny as a kid and thinking, “If sample-size, designer-clothes-clad Fran Fine is considered fat and needs to diet, where does that leave me?” I don’t expect Fran Drescher and other creators of the show to foot my therapy bill, but this is an undeniable experience I took from watching the show at a young, impressionable age. This new understanding of the show’s humor was jarring. Fran fears the inevitability of someday having Sylvia’s body (so does her love interest, Maxwell). She soothes her sorrows over a tub of ice cream whereas a normal person soothes their sorrows over a bottle of brandy. She’s constantly needing to be on a diet and constantly breaking that diet.
She’s been in Weight Watchers since she was a kid. She wants plastic surgery for “flabby arms.” One of Sylvia’s major plot points in a later season is that she needs to diet because the doctors have told her she’s going to eat herself to death.Įventually, the fat jokes are aimed at Fran, as well.
Sylvia has hiding spots in loafs of challah for emergency chocolate bars while on a diet. She eats the Sheffields out of house and home, able to smell Niles’ refrigerated leftovers in the kitchen all the way from the foyer of the Sheffield mansion. A spoonful of chocolate syrup is her medicine. Sylvia’s identity and any resultant humor is based on the fact that she is fat and likes to eat a lot. Once the show settled into its structure around season 2, if Fran’s mother, Sylvia Fine, is in an episode, fat jokes are made. It starts subtle: Fran making little nods to her figure, hinting at some underlying fear of growing big. However, I soon picked up on an unfortunate fact: The Nanny fat-shames. Realizing that much of the show’s humor is built on very-clever sexual innuendos was a gleeful discovery. In some ways, this viewing, without the veil of childlike innocence, made rewatching all the more fresh and fun. It was the only show on television, growing up, where I saw a family and culture that represented my own.Īs I continued my rewatch in present day times, I began to realize I didn’t understand most of the jokes growing up. Fran Fine especially reminds me of my Aunt Debbi - both gorgeous, single, loud, vivacious, and personable women. The Fine family looks, talks, acts, and are total yentas like mine. The Nanny is hysterical and well-acted, but I also love it because, as a New York Jew, it’s familiar. I must have watched the show through seven times while living at home with the luxury of cable. When DVR came along, my television’s data was consumed by reruns and repeats of those reruns. reruns of Fran Fine’s hijinks with my bubbe before starting my homework.
NILES THE NANNY TV
My memories of an average weekday in elementary school involved coming home and tuning into TV Land to watch 4 p.m. At first, rewatching The Nanny was like greeting an old friend.
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