In every Mel Brooks movie, whether about men in tights, balls in space, or the history of the world, there is a joke reserved to make the "goyim" belly laugh at the Jewish expense and to make the Jews smirk (groan) with acknowledgment at the knock from an insider (that would be Brooks, a.k.a. Melvin Kaminsky).

The joke will be something generic and obvious, playing off the oldest Jewish stereotypes paraded endlessly during the Borscht Belt era – something typically not too funny – something self effacingly undignified. Whether about oy vey dis or circumcision dat or mazal tov the uda ting. Nothing too creative or sharp or authentically Jewish. Kind of like what a Jew would write if he was out to entertain his gentile audience using their breadth of Semitic knowledge as the parameters for the humor.

The Hebrew Hammer, a Jewish lampoon of the blaxploitation films of the 70’s like Shaft and Foxy Brown, seemed originally like it would offer orthodox Jews something they had been lacking for so long, a movie that made fun of us for who we really are, not for who they would like to make fun of us to be. But alas, what ends up on screen is some “fakakte” movie acting like one of those Mel Brooks moments extended over a trying ninety minutes (even the studio knew this one was going nowhere, electing to premiere it on Comedy Central as opposed to in theatres). Ironically enough, the most amusing aspect of the film is the ways in which the filmmakers simply converted the staples of blaxploitation into what they call jewsplotation (but for some odd reason kept the same Isaac Hayes soul music in tact). What we end up with is a film not only trying to mock Jews through this genre, but to also satirize the genre itself. It‘s an overly complicated, uneven formula.

This film will get a lot of press, especially in the Jewish community, because how grateful and attentive we must be to all these big stars like Adam Goldberg (who's mother is Catholic), Andy Dick (funny if you like his style – and I do), and Peter Coyote (disgraceful) to be in a movie that features tefillin and tzitzis. Perhaps due to the highly marketable “holiday season”, Jews will now have to sit through a yearly Hanukah movie (remember last year’s abomination 8 Crazy Nights). Please boychiks and girl chicks, don’t give these opportunists a second of your valuable time - they are out to exploit you by admitting to you that they are exploiting you and believing that this will make you laugh.

Jonathan Kesselman, the writer and director, is a Jew but he is an outsider to orthodoxy writing about “orthodox” characters. He is going to fool ninety percent of his audience into thinking that he is a talmudic scholar (because he packs in as many well known Jewish trademarks as he can find – and a few appreciated obscure ones). What he certainly has done, which earns him some form of respect, is produce the film with the single most and varied Jewish references in popular culture history. The problem of course for a graduate of any form of Jewish education and anyone who is part of an actual orthodox community is that Kesselman has no concept of what to do with these references beyond showboating them in some forced, inane progression.

In other words: The guy has no hashkafa. He gets as far as knowing that “Shabbat Shalom” is a phrase utilized within Jewish culture, but he does not know how to create a comedic set up around the phrase, so he resorts to using it as a token “I’ll be back” action hero line, or in one case as precursor to a sexual encounter. Another example – The Jewish Justice League is headquartered in a building surrounded by Israeli flags, but the membership appears to be all Chasidim. Once again, Kesselman has the knowledge that many orthodox Jews wear black hats and have payis and he also is aware that Israel is the modern Jewish state; however, he does not have the insight to recognize that Chasidim and the Israeli flag don’t exactly go together.

The Hebrew Hammer, a self proclaimed private circumcised dick (“dick” means detective for those of you who stopped learning to read this), was tormented by the “goyim” when he was a kid so now he’s a tough Jew with an attitude. But of course (because how could Kesselman miss this one) he has an overbearing Jewish mother (horrifyingly portrayed by Nora Dunn) who uses Jewish guilt (like it’s a brand name) to cause him tzuris (“Why can’t he be a doctor or a lawyer?”). The story begins by having something to do with saving Hanukah from Andy Dick’s evil Santa, but by the time you get to the Jewish clock absurdity and something about Kwanzaa and Mario Van Peebles, you’ll be so fahklempt that a nice shluf might be a good idea, or maybe some chicken soup with a matzoh ball, nu?.

Why am I nit picking? The movie is meant to be a wacky diversion. Where’s my holiday spirit? The answer is that The Hebrew Hammer was supposed to be better than this. It was supposed to stand up for us and be a light unto the nations, but it caved, it conformed. Because I think a movie like this takes advantage. It holds itself out to be humorously representing a culture, but it doesn’t even start with the basics, an understanding of the culture it intends to parody. Judging by a number of scenes (one in which Hammer recites the items on a seder plate, one where he talks “dirty” to his girl Esther by promising a house on Long Island) there are indications that someone making this movie had the ability to make it the biting, insightful epic it should have been. At some point it appears that the makers felt the effort was not worth it and so they simply went with Brooks and whatever else they could find haunting the Catskills.

What could have been an unintentionally empowering film for orthodox Jews (as blaxploitation was for blacks in their day) ends up being more of a self loathing source of embarrassment, at least for me. It prides itself on badly reenacting the worst things about orthodox Jews instead of championing the things that make us unique and damn weird. Maybe someone reading this will make the movie that we all deserve. Why don’t I make it? Too much of a schlep. I’m better at complaining.