A show that works

A series links editing and surrogacy, which have more in common than you might think

For some of you, seeing the title Editor’s Note might conjure up feelings about some of the great magazines and newspapers and how at their best, they're able to grab readers and lure them in. Others probably find it… blah. Who knows? To each his own.

For my part, I’ve done a fair bit of editing over the years, but only once, early in my professional life, I was an editor-in-chief, who wrote an editor’s note on a regular basis. Well, to be honest, I was the only full-time employee besides the art director and the ad sales staff for a free, biweekly magazine that was actually quite popular in 1970s Gainesville, FL. People picked it up for its music coverage and advertising, but several of our freelance feature writers went on to illustrious careers.

I enjoyed filling those six column inches of editorial space every two weeks, giving readers an idea of what to expect inside each issue, both in content and tone. That’s what I’d like to do here – compose an editor’s note for a broader canvas: the known universe. Or at least my known universe – admittedly a pretty small slice of the whole enchilada but perhaps bigger than most.

Writing and editing are done behind the scenes. For anyone who wants a good glimpse of how an editor does her job, I highly recommend A Body That Works, an Israeli TV show currently running on Netflix with English subtitles. Don’t worry – it’s not all, or even mostly, about editing. Even I couldn’t take that. But it does accurately portray how the lead female character, Elie, works as a top editor at a big publishing house with a major, fictional, Israeli actor and creator, Tomer, played by the real actor and creator, Lior Raz (Fauda), who’s struggling to complete a worthy memoir.

At the same time, the main story unfolds, with Elie and her husband Ido (Yehuda Levi) desperately trying to have a baby and Elie unable to bring one to term. We learn this has happened multiple times, and with great anxiety, the two decide to hire Chen (Gal Malka), a young, single mother as a surrogate.

In short, Elie’s helping Tomer give birth to his book but needs Chen to help her give birth to a child.

It’s a fraught dramatic premise under the best of circumstances, which – you guessed it – these are not. Elie, maybe because of the talent she uses so well at her job, is a Grade-A control freak whose effort to make Chen comfortable, obviously for the good of the fetus, is welcome and appreciated until it gets out of hand. That starts to happen pretty quickly, after a medical emergency forces Chen out of her father’s place, where she and her 10-year-old son Uri have been living since she separated from her ex. Reluctantly, she accepts Elie’s and Ido’s offer to stay with them in their home, and Uri is sent off at first to be with his dad.

Ido, an attorney who has given up his small, pro-bono-centered practice to join a killer firm that pays him enough to afford the surrogacy, begins to chafe at the increased stress in his life, much of which is brought on by Elie’s fears, superstitions and OCD. As the three of them become closer, the dynamic changes in sometimes predictable ways. Elie feels pushed away by both her husband and their charge, while at work she finds herself drawn to her client Tomer.

Chen, on the surface, is an ideal surrogate, healthy and confident about the pregnancy and with an easygoing attitude that helps her endure the physical and emotional challenges ahead. She needs the cash infusion to get her and Uri their own place. But her move into the couple’s home is a mistake that kicks the tension into high-gear. It lands Chen on the losing side of a custody battle and causes her hosts to reconsider their relationship with her and with each other.

Some of the fights Ido and Elie come to have are incredibly hurtful – never mind what they actually do outside the marriage. But every time the setup dips its toe into melodramatic waters, the writing, acting and direction bring it back to real life. Shira Hadad, who co-created the series and co-wrote each episode, has been outspoken in Israel about her own experience having a young son born with help from a surrogate. (It wasn’t nearly so dramatic, she says.) The Israeli Television Academy nominated the series for best drama and its four top cast members for acting awards, which Malka won in her category.

The show was popular with Israeli viewers and critics alike, sparking public debate about surrogacy and parenthood, and it quickly sold internationally. It’s been picked up for a second season, which I hope deals with a new subject. They’ve already mined this one so thoroughly.

I’ve noticed a trend in some of the great limited series recently to put more effort into depicting how the main characters came to be who they are. Often, as in, say, HBO’s The Penguin or Adolescence on Netflix, the main character’s parents become regular or recurring characters. Such is the case with A Body That Works, which explores each person’s story from a broad perspective.

For some reason, I hadn’t heard any buzz about this show before a friend in Israel recommended it. Netflix wasn’t promoting it on my feed, and I haven’t seen anything in the 4,000 publications I regularly read. (Okay, dozens.) (Okay, skim.) Is it because we’re not allowed to like anything from Israel these days? I doubt it, but it seems odd. Maybe I just missed it.

I’ll refrain from sharing more of the series’ plot and character development here in what is, after all, just an editor’s note. But I hope some of you will watch and discuss what you think – about the show, about this Substack, about life in general. Your subscription is free, but I’d like to get some conversation going.

See you next week!