Bubble Schmeisis review

Following the sell-out success of the Revenge: After the Levoyah in January, there’s been a growing demand in London’s cultural scene for Nick Cassenbaum’s sharp, unfiltered wit. His latest project – a reprisal of Bubble Schmeisis at Soho Theatre – situates that wit in a steamy atmosphere, and puts it to work educating the audience about sauna bath culture, a staple of the Jewish community in which Nick grew up. 

The scene is set by the haze in the air and the curious characters on stage. Josh Mydellton (on accordion) and Daniel Gouly (on clarinet) are dressed in sunglasses, dressing gowns, the sharpest blue Lonsdale sliders, and fish-printed wraps. As in the traditional schvitz, no clothes are allowed. This mix of casual and theatrical establishes the tone for the whole show. 

Cassenbaum enters and sizes up the crowd. He ambles over. “How’s the view from here?” The question is full of altercacker energy – an overbearing curiosity you might know from your own Jewish parents, one that makes you feel both seen and scrutinised. Any prospect of a fourth wall is shattered. This isn’t just a performance of Jewish identity; it’s an exploration. 

This exploration relies on a certain familiarity with Jewish customs and humour that may put some audience members at a disadvantage. Cassenbaum recalls the absurdity of picking up a lump of lokshen before heading to the schvitz, and jokes about his poppa, who knew how to find bagels but not synagogues. He maps the Promised Land onto North West London, turning Stanmore into Zion. Food and place do the heavy lifting, just as they do in real, lived culture. Ours is the kind of identity you eat your way into.

That intimacy established, Cassenbaum leans into the harder questions of community and inclusion that form the show’s heart. At the climax, Cassenbaum stands under the spotlight at the Western Wall, longing to “find his tribe.” Stacy Pinchas, the camp leader, claims him, but the belonging is countered by her exclusionary “YOCK” towards a child innocently suggesting a singalong of a non-Jewish song. 

Who gets a seat at the table, Cassenbaum asks, and at whose expense? More importantly, perhaps, who decides? There’s a comedy to Stacy’s declaration that “we made this hummus,” and to an audience collectively chanting “BUY-GAL”, but it exists to make memorable deeper queries about whether a cultural inheritance is something you can ever actually own. 

Like the winding journey along the North Circular – where every turn seems to signal a shift in identity and community, a transition from pride to parody and back – Bubble Schmeisis leaves us with more questions than answers about what it means to be Jewish, or to “be” anything at all. “Jewishness” in Cassenbaum’s work is exactly this: a stand-in for many complex, shifting identities, layered, contentious, inherited, and performed, but with good jokes and better food. 

With Revenge: After the Levoyah heading out on tour this Autumn, Cassenbaum thankfully shows no sign of stepping away from the stage, even as Bubble Schmeisis takes its final schvitz. There is, I imagine, a satisfaction in closing this chapter, in moving on from the salt beef bars of North West London and the green-and-white-tiled steam rooms of the East End. The history they represent still lingers like the glossy sheen of a freshly boiled bagel. The show may be over, but the heat remains. ▼

Georgina (Gigi) Daniels is a journalist, programmer, and Volunteer Manager at Diverse UK.