Why “Happy Place” Made Me Cry

I’ve been trying to understand why the new Israeli show, Makom Sameach, (Happy Place), made me cry so much. And why, despite the tears it stirred in me, did I want to keep watching it?

Probably because the show’s authenticity riveted me immediately and wouldn’t let me go. The characters look relatable, live in familiar Tel Aviv neighborhoods, and express genuine emotion. I can’t be the only one who sees my own struggles and longings mirrored in the situations the show’s characters encountered. That’s likely why it’s one of Israel’s most popular shows right now.   

Take the grandmothers debating each other in Yiddish. They reminded me of my own grandmothers who could shift from the most practical matters to the most lofty in the same conversation. The characters move from does an insult hurled in the heat of the moment require an apology to who has the authority to end a life? Maybe their urgent questions in a language I heard often as a child inspired my tears.

It would make more sense for me to relate to Vered, played by award-winning actress Noa Koler, who also wrote the show. She’s the middle-aged mother who feels boxed in by the adult life she worked hard to create: her marriage, family, and career. Vered grapples with how often her everyday reality falls short of meaning or satisfaction. She is tempted by the allure of a different path that makes her feel alive in a way responsible adulthood rarely does. That dynamic can easily stir up complex emotions and make anyone cry.

But I found myself identifying most with her mother, Nomi, played by veteran Israeli stage actress Tiki Dayan. Nomi fears the callous doctor who constantly berates her and coldly insists she needs a procedure to remove part of her foot. Nomi refuses. 

Losing her ability to walk likely represents the many dreams she lost over the course of her life. She mourns those dreams, including becoming a writer and falling in love. So Nomi insists she’d  rather take her own life than submit to the disfiguring surgery.  

Surely, these are feelings we can all relate to. Like Nomi, I also fear and reject people in my life who have the power to hurt me. And, as I get older, I also wonder what dreams I’ve let go of over the years. Even the impact of dreams we’ve realized changes with time.  

While I fulfilled my most important dream of becoming a mother and raising a loving family, I do mourn the role I once played when my kids were little. I spent more than 20 years raising my four kids with every ounce of my physical, emotional, and spiritual energy. My older three are now launched and building lives of their own. One is even married. And yet, I miss the days when they would rest their tired heads on my shoulder. When a warm cup of chocolate milk, a soft lullaby, and a familiar bedtime story could make everything better. 

Makom Sameach brings these poignant emotions to the surface: grieving what was, longing for what might have been, and striving for life-affirming experiences today. 

And it all unfolds against a distinctly Israeli backdrop. The characters look for parking amid the familiar Tel Aviv four-story apartment buildings with flower-filled balconies. The apartments are clean but not sparkling, with furniture that looks lived-in and comfortable, rather than Instagram-perfect. The actors wear little to no makeup, wardrobes are relatable, and Vered’s wild curls seem almost like another character in the story. She isn’t a size 0, and yet a handsome yoga instructor is irresistibly drawn to her. These small details make the show feel real in a way that pulls me in completely, drawing out my emotions and then my tears. 

In contrast, leading women in American shows are often super thin, dressed in expensive outfits, hair perfectly in place, with flawless makeup, no matter what chaos life throws their way. That kind of perfection is harder to relate to, even if the storyline is powerful.

A natural appearance is common in Israeli productions. In a recent interview with Walla, Koler explains why that simplicity reinforces the message of the show: 

“We are flawed creatures and we are far from perfect and we are rude and insulting and don’t notice each other and have a hard time respecting our parents and forget to be grateful. All kinds of things like that are hard to do. The series reveals that we are not always balanced in these areas and that we aren’t always focused on these areas.” 

And at this particular moment, as the constant intensity of war lifts a bit, Israeli society may be more open to self-reflection. In the same Walla interview, series director Ram Nahari explains why the country’s current atmosphere makes it especially receptive to the themes Makom Sameach explores:

“I think something in the national mood was ready,” Nahari said. “It’s a series about anxiety, about depression, about the desire to live, about what kind of life you want to live, and whether you have the right to live a life beyond the practical. I mean, not just the work of living, but a life that includes fantasy and joy. It’s also a series that flirts quite a lot with death. That probably resonated strongly with the current national mood. The intense pressure around the war and the hostages eased a little, and then you could start asking other questions.”

Sometimes it takes watching others navigate the maze of their lives to better understand your own—and sometimes that understanding comes through tears. My Makom Sameach tears brought me the comfort of knowing I’m not the only one navigating tough emotions as I face my emptying nest. And they also inspired me to embrace spreading my own wings now.