Shai Avivi; Photo provided by Breaking Glass Pictures
In the opening minutes of Israeli filmmaker Savi Gavizon’s “Longing,” middle-aged bachelor Ariel Bloch gets news that’s not only shocking, it’s a double-punch to the gut. Meeting his ex-girlfriend Ronit at a café, he’s told that he fathered a son 20 years ago. Then he learns that the boy, Adam, is now dead, killed when his car plunged off a bridge. Reeling from the news, he begins a quest to learn more about the young man he never had the chance to meet.
The answers he gets are complicated: Adam was a talented musician and poet, but he was also angry and troubled, with a history of defacing property, dealing drugs, stalking his French teacher, and getting his 15-year-old girlfriend pregnant. How Ariel deals with and processes these revelations as he meets people in Adam’s life and learns about himself in the process is at the core of Gavizon’s dark comedy.
Starring Shai Avivi as Ariel, Assi Levy as Ronit, and Neta Riskin as French teacher Yael, “Longing” was nominated for 13 Ophir Awards—Israel’s Oscar —with Gavizon’s script winning the award for best screenplay.
“This is a story about parenthood, about the desire to be a parent and the afflictions that come with it: identification and honor,” he told the Journal. “This is a journey that creates near-laboratory conditions for the examination of the hidden aspects of parenthood.”
The divorced father of two children, Maya, 25, and Yoav, 20, the Tel Aviv-based writer-director of “Nina’s Tragedies” and “Lovesick on Nana Street” explained his inspiration for his latest film.
“A few years ago, when I got divorced, my kids became the anchor in my life. I developed an obsession to be with them as much as I could. On their days with me, I didn’t allow them to go to their friends and surely not to sleep over. They had to stay with me. Instead of being a good father to them, I was a good father for me,” he said. “Issues of awkward parenthood began to bother me and these issues looked for their story to be told. These issues, I think, resonate in the heart of every parent.”
Bringing the story to the screen posed several challenges. “The essence of the story is the journey of the main character from cold to hot and from loneliness to being surrounded by people, from thinking about himself to [recognizing] others. So I had to design him as a very cold, selfish and lonely person.” It is a very hard step to begin with, he explained, so it was important that he cast the right actor. He chose Shai Avivi because of “his talent, warmth, gentleness and lovable quality that makes people relate to him, even as a difficult to like character.”
“Longing” artfully treads the line between darkness and light, deftly blending comedy and tragedy. “I’ve always wanted to create a film which is comprised of absurd situations, because they allow access to deep emotions without falling into the trap of sentimentality and cliché,” Gavizon said. “Perhaps this is why I’ve allowed myself, for the very first time, to be led to the very end by a singular pain and a singular passion. ‘Longing’ is a tragicomedy, paved with more absurdity than any other screenplay I’ve written to date.”
“‘Longing’ is a tragicomedy, paved with more absurdity than any other screenplay I’ve written to date.” — Savi Gavizon
As a director, he said the most significant challenge he faced was directing this film in an entirely realistic fashion, in order to provide “a solid emotional platform for those moments that touch on the extreme and the ridiculous.” He explained that classic comic drama usually starts funny, and gradually becomes serious and painful, but in this case, “I chose to do it in the other way around. The movie starts very sad, and becomes more and more absurd and comic. ‘An Extremely Sad Comedy’ is probably a title that suits ‘Longing’ better than any of my other films.”
While the the story he tells is very extreme and charts a dangerous path, Gavizon and his cinematographer, Assaf Sudry, kept the film’s visuals modest and functional. “But if you look carefully,” he said, “you can see the manipulation we made with color and light. It was very important for me not to leave the texture of the things as they are. It’s not really realistic texture. Assaf was the perfect guy to do it.”
Although Gavizon did not base any of the film on real people, he was inspired to include a real Taoist ceremony his girlfriend told him about after returning from a trip to Singapore. “When a son dies, [Taoists] try to find for him a girl who also died, and they marry them in a ceremony. They believe that this marriage will [allow] them to be together, wherever they are,” he said.
“I thought that it might be interesting and unique to create a story with these circumstances, [set] in a Western society. But what interested me more about this marriage was the parents; I was attracted to their psychological need to continue being parents and less in the mystic and metaphysical side,” he said. “I think this ceremony goes one step deeper and darker than the Jewish way that I know to mourn and deal with death.”
The Haifa native, who is not religious, said he does “study Judaism from time to time, and I have religious people in my family. I’m surrounded by Jewish culture and tradition. I have no doubt that these facts directly and indirectly affect my work.” Right now, he added, “I’m busy wondering what my next film will be about.”
“Longing,” now in theatrical release, will be available digitally and on DVD on Oct. 12.
Best-selling Holocaust novels “The Tattooist of Auschwitz” and “We Were the Lucky Ones,” are coming to television in 2020.
Based on the true story of Ludwig ‘Lale’ Sokolov, who tattooed identification numbers on the arms of fellow prisoners and fell in love with one of them—a young woman named Gita—“The Tattooist of Auschwitz” is set to be made into a series debuting in 2020 by Synchronicity Films.
Author Heather Morris met Sokolov in 2003 and originally wrote about his life story as a screenplay before reshaping it into her debut novel.
“Lale Sokolov placed a great deal of trust in me when he first shared his story. I am now passing that baton on and am so pleased that Synchronicity Films was successful in negotiating for the rights,” Morris said in a statement. “I know Lale will be smiling down at this new phase of his and Gita’s story.”
Also based on a true story, “We Were the Lucky Ones” chronicles the saga of several members of a Polish-Jewish family fighting to survive, and ultimately reunite, after being torn apart by World War II and the atrocities of the Holocaust. Old 320 Sycamore has optioned Georgia Hunter’s novel, which was inspired by her grandfather’s wartime experiences.
“Georgia and I have been friends for almost 20 years. I remember, years ago, when she first mentioned her desire to illuminate this remarkable piece of her family history,” Old 320 Sycamore’s Thomas Kail said. “I am overjoyed to be partnering with her to create a television version of this story that honors this incredible book.”
No air date has been set yet.
Every Shabbat, a group of 20 senior citizens in Palm Desert gathers to make blessings over electric candles, grape juice, challah, chili, hamburgers and Frosties at their local Wendy’s restaurant. Now, these seniors are the subject of a documentary titled “Wendy’s Shabbat,” which will screen at this year’s Los Angeles Jewish Film Festival, opening on April 25.
The short documentary by Los Angeles resident Rachel Myers, focuses on her 88-year-old grandmother, Roberta Mahler, as she celebrates the Sabbath every week with the Friday night fast-food meal.
Mahler, a widow, resides in Sun Desert with her 13-year-old dog. She previously lived in Los Angeles and used to attend Valley Beth Shalom. In a phone interview with the Journal, Mahler said she’s been going to the Wendy’s Shabbat for four years.
“I go to be with my friends because being out here in the desert is lonely,” Mahler said. “At Wendy’s, it’s a gathering and you feel like you’re with the family. It gives you a nice warm feeling and a feeling of belonging.”
The seniors of Wendy’s Shabbat, many of whom used to live in Los Angeles and were members of Stephen S. Wise Temple, started the group eight years ago. They sit at a long table, say the traditional Friday night prayers together and then schmooze for an hour or so before heading home to their gated communities in their golf carts.
When Myers attended one of their dinners, she decided she had to document it. She brought her mother — Mahler’s daughter — Abby Myers, on board to produce.
“There is a lot of isolation that happens in our modern world, and I find the seniors in our film inspiring in how they connect to celebrate their religion and friendships at a fast-food restaurant,” said Rachel, who is making her directorial debut with the documentary. “In a way it is essential, because it illustrates how people make a forum in many different circumstances to reach out to one another and build community.”
“Wendy’s Shabbat” took two days to shoot. After she completed the film, Rachel promoted it by uploading trailers to Vimeo and YouTube. Her effort paid off. The trailers have been viewed nearly 200,000 times, and the film is among 55 out of 4,754 submissions accepted to the Tribeca Film Festival, under the “Home Sweet Home” shorts section.
“It is so interesting to see how this film is resonating with people,” Abby said. “I think the film provides a ‘feel good’ reflective moment of what is important in life. Being part of something, recognizing ritual in one’s life, friends, family [and] purpose [are] all told with a very authentic voice to the film.”
The idea behind the Wendy’s Shabbat is also spreading, according to Rachel, who said there are now groups in Toronto, Tennessee and Boca Raton, Fla., “who, after seeing the film, were inspired to make a Shabbat gathering at a restaurant. It’s so amazing that sharing this one senior group’s story would be inspiration to others.”
Representatives of Wendy’s also saw the trailers and contacted Rachel. “They were very touched by it” and sent a letter and gifts to the seniors to thank them, she said.
“When Rachel thought to document Wendy’s Shabbat, she came with a full crew, with lights and cameras,” said Mahler, who will be going to the Tribeca festival with her family for the film’s debut on April 21. “I thought, ‘This is sweet.’ I never thought it would grow like this. Whoever thought it would go so viral? It’s really amazing to me.”
Péter Rudolf and Sándor Terhes in “1945.” Photo courtesy of Menemsha Films
An ancient train, belching black smoke, pulls into a station near an unnamed Hungarian village and out step two Orthodox Jews. Not losing a moment, the stationmaster sounds the alarm: “The Yids are coming!”
The year — and the title of the movie — is “1945,” a time when the inhabitants of the village and the rest of their countrymen have arrived at a junction in history and are unsure which path to follow.
While Hungary’s Holocaust-themed movie “Son of Saul” won the Academy Award for foreign-language film two years ago, exhibiting the full horror of the Shoah and its concentration camps, the postwar “1945” probes the potential for greed and selfishness in every human being.
“We are the third postwar generation,” director Ferenc Torok said in a phone interview from Budapest. “And a lot of people are asking what their parents and grandparents did during the world war.”
The film takes place in the middle of summer as the villagers till their fields, smoke and drink endlessly, and prepare for the wedding of the son of a domineering town clerk to a pretty peasant girl. Nazi Germany had surrendered two months earlier, in May, and while some Soviet troops have arrived, the Communist puppet government has not yet assumed power.
The two arriving Jews — the older clad in a black coat and hat and his adult son wearing a workman’s cap and clothing — unload two large trunks and hire a horse-drawn cart and its driver to carry their load for the hourlong trip to the village, while father and son follow behind on foot.
As the odd procession wends its way through the countryside, the stationmaster’s warning stokes the villagers’ fears that the survivors among their former Jewish neighbors now will demand the return of the houses, businesses and furniture they left behind when they were deported to concentration camps. That means the town clerk would no longer own the drug store and his wife could no longer glory in the beautiful rugs, dishes and silver menorah of the previous owner.
“1945” probes the potential for greed and selfishness in every human being.
In the ensuing panic, some try to hide their ill-gotten gains, while others put their hopes in papers, signed by the pro-Nazi wartime government, “officially” transferring the abandoned homes and goods to the gentile neighbors.
When horse, cart and the “Yids” arrive at the village, women peek through shutters, the pharmacist tries to hide his tubes and bottles. Rumors spread that the trunks contain perfumes and beauty aids to sell to the village women.
Finally, the cart and two men arrive at the gates of the abandoned Jewish cemetery. The younger Jew, with a concentration camp number tattooed on his forearm, takes a key out of his pocket and opens the rusty gate, as a posse of hostile villagers gathers nearby. Inside the cemetery, father and son open the trunks and bury the unexpected contents. In the final scene, the two strangers reboard the train, their mission accomplished.
The result is a masterfully directed, acted and photographed movie, which again disproves predictions that the time of the Holocaust-themed movie has expired, even as the last eyewitnesses are dying.
Torok, who is not Jewish, said that part of the continued interest in a place like Hungary, whose Jewish population was decimated during the war, has to do with the fact that for many years while the nation was a Communist satellite, the subject of the Holocaust — and particularly the participation of many Hungarians in it — was taboo. The same applied to the collaboration of many Hungarians with Hitler’s regime, as German and Hungarian troops fought together in the invasions of Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union.
The film started as a short story by Hungarian Jewish writer Gabor T. Szanto, titled “Homecoming,” which won the Yad Vashem Avner Shalev Prize for best artistic representation of a Holocaust-related topic. Torok, relying on Szanto’s intimate knowledge of Jewish life and rituals, asked him also to write the screenplay.
In a separate phone interview, Szanto, editor of the Hungarian-Jewish magazine “Szombat” (Sabbath), made a number of observations on Hungarian Jewry, past but mostly present.
“The Holocaust is still the cornerstone of our thinking, not only for Hungary’s 80,000 Jews (compared with 450,000 before World War II) but to every other Nazi-occupied nation,” he said. “This film is really Europe’s story.”
In general, Hungarian Jews, like their American counterparts, tend to be liberals and left-leaning and they are concerned by their country’s political shift to the right, Szanto said. Among the worrisome signs is the growing strength of the nationalistic Jobbik party.
Another sign is the recent public poster campaign by the Hungarian government, depicting George Soros, a Hungarian-American and Jewish billionaire and philanthropist, as the mastermind of a massive of influx of illegal immigrants from the Middle East into Hungary.
“As a writer, I am a bit of an outsider and try to look at Hungary and its Jewish community realistically,” Szanto said. “We have many problems, but I don’t think they can be solved by ideologies. We can believe in ideals, but our solutions must be realistic. You can’t change human nature.”
“1945” begins screening on Nov. 25 at Laemmle’s Royal Theatre in West Los Angeles, Playhouse 7 in Pasadena and Town Center in Encino, as well as Westpark 8 in Irvine. On Dec. 8, the film will open at the Laemmle’s Claremont 5 in Claremont.
aka The Mighty Atom. Photo courtesy of Steven Greenstein.
Joseph Greenstein stood only 5 feet 4, but he could bend iron bars with his bare hands, bite through chains with his teeth and pull an airplane tied to his long hair. Known as The Mighty Atom, the pint-sized Samson was a Polish-Jewish immigrant who nearly died from tuberculosis as well as poverty and pogroms in the old country. But in the United States in the 1920s and ‘30s, he found fame as a strongman and later worked as a an advocate for his product line of herbal remedies.
Forever the entertainer, at age 84 in 1974 he was bending spikes in front of fellow hospital patients just before his death from bladder cancer. His grandson, Steven Greenstein, was only 5 years old at that time, but in a recent telephone interview from his home in Washington, D.C., he told the Journal that Joseph Greenstein “had a personality that loomed large, and his presence was felt in my house and is to this day.”
“Forty years after his death, he still holds several records.” — Jerry Greenstein
Steven Greenstein has now released a documentary, “The Mighty Atom,” that pays tribute to both the showman and the man. It is available for streaming on iTunes, Amazon and Google Play.
Over 20 years, Steven, a television and TV commercials director, collected photos and stories from relatives and other sources until he had enough to begin making the film in early 2015. A year into the project, he found an audiocassette of a 1967 radio interview with his grandfather, which he then used it as a narrative thread throughout the film.
The story includes biographical points, anecdotes and elements of the Jewish immigrant experience that, Steven said, made his grandfather “hungry and made him want to be special. Nothing was given to him. He had to be spectacular to break out of that and make a living.”
The documentary also features interviews with physiology experts and modern-day strongmen who put The Mighty Atom’s abilities into context. It tells of the filmmaker’s late uncle, Mike, who at age 93 appeared on “America’s Got Talent,” pulling a loaded station wagon with his teeth.
Joseph was a devout, proud Jew who grew a beard and wore the Star of David on his costume after he witnessed the beating of a rabbi in Brooklyn in 1928.
“It was important that his Jewish identity was recognizable,” his grandson said.
In the documentary, the filmmaker suggests that The Mighty Atom might have inspired Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster to create Superman. He can’t prove it, but he is more convinced about other connections, including the comic book hero The Atom (of whom there are several incarnations) and Michael Chabon’s novel “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.”
In the novel, “There’s a Jewish strongman … named the Mighty Molecule, who bends steel. It’s clearly my grandfather,” Steven said.
He believes his grandfather deserves as much recognition as other renowned Jewish athletes such as baseball players Sandy Koufax and Hank Greenberg, and swimmer Mark Spitz. “There’s no reason what he did is any less of an athletic achievement,” he said. “Part of why I wanted to make the film is he should be on that list.”
Joseph had five sons and five daughters, and the boys became part of his strongman act. “We never made a big fuss about it. It was our norm,” Jerry Greenstein, Joseph’s youngest and only living son and Steven’s father, said in a telephone interview. But there was always competition among the sons to top each other and break their father’s records.
Having segued from the strongman act to stand-up comedy and a career in paper products sales, Jerry at 88 still has some skills. He hopes to replicate his brother Mike’s stunt when he turns 94, he said.
Both Greensteins believe that Joseph would love the documentary. “He liked being the center of attention,” Jerry said. “And he’d be proud that people are recognizing him for what he accomplished. Forty years after his death, he still holds several records.”
Steven hopes his grandfather’s example will illustrate that “we’re all capable of a lot more than we think,” he said. “I’m proud of him as a human being and for what he’s shown the world you can do.”
“The Mighty Atom” is available for streaming on iTunes, Amazon and Google Play.
Review: ‘A Dying King’ Reveals the Medical Circumstances That Led to the Shah’s Death
I frequently write about the importance of listening to the other side on tough issues, but are some positions so odious that they never deserve a hearing?
A couple of years ago, an Australian friend was directing a documentary about a difficult subject: child sex-abuse in his Jewish community. One of the interviewees was a former abuser who had gone on to live a normal family life for decades.
My friend had filmed a conversation between this man and a well-known sex-abuse survivor who had become a whistleblower. He needed someone to film the former abuser — now living in Los Angeles — reading a statement in his home. I’m a film director too, so my pal reached out to me. I figured that if a victims’ rights advocate was OK with interviewing this man, I was OK with filming him.
As I entered his house, I couldn’t help noticing that it was nicer than mine. Evidently, paying for his crime had not impeded his business. We were about the same age, and from the pictures on the fridge, his kids looked about the same age as mine.
His movements were a bit jittery, but he came across as intelligent and upbeat. It felt weird to be in a room with a man who had been convicted of child sex abuse. As a father, it occurred to me that it might be my obligation to clobber him with my tripod rather than film him.
As his story came out, there were some surprises. He had been relatively young when he committed the crime, about 10 years older than his teenage victim. Both had grown up in an ultra-Orthodox environment where people never expressed sexuality publicly and rarely discussed it privately. Masturbation was strictly prohibited. His ideas about sexuality were juvenile even after he became a legal adult.
The man in my viewfinder could have lain low. Instead, he chose to speak up because he felt a responsibility before God and his community.
He made it sound as if the episode that changed his victim’s life and his own was a bit of experimentation that occurred because he was such an immature adult.
In any case, he did what he did, got caught and paid a price. He then moved to a new country, rebuilt his life, started a family, and never again engaged in criminal conduct, according to his telling of the story. He could have sealed his past in a never-to-be-reopened box, he said, except that he now felt a responsibility to help other boys and young men who engaged in similar “experimentation” and then felt so much remorse that suicide seemed like their only option.
Apparently, this happened pretty often.
He noted that God forgives the truly penitent, and so should we.
As I filmed, my mind was racing. Suppose a kid does a dumb thing that doesn’t even rise to the level of criminal conduct, but he feels so bad about it that he becomes suicidal. He can’t discuss it with anyone in his ultra-Orthodox world, but hearing this guy’s statement might help him realize he’s got options.
The man in my viewfinder could have lain low. Instead, he chose to speak up because he felt a responsibility before God and his community. I wouldn’t call him a hero, but his teshuvah — his atonement and turning — appeared genuine.
If the harm he had caused years earlier was a one-time mistake, then this shoot would serve a valuable purpose.
But what if the film’s director and I were being manipulated to cover for a predator? My gut told me the guy’s statement was genuine, but, as my wife often reminded me, I was not always the best judge of character.
Maybe this guy was and continued to be a pedophile, I thought. Maybe I should just run out of there and trash the footage.
Then I learned that people in his current community knew about his past and accepted him anyway. His wife was supportive. He seemed to be the poster boy for rehabilitation.
Isn’t that a value to be promoted? Sure, but do I want him around my kids? There are limits to positive ideology. A halfway house sounds like a great idea — until the parole board puts it next to your home.
In the end, I completed the shoot and sent the footage to Australia. I pray I participated in a worthy project, and that the man I filmed will live out his life on the right path. Perhaps someone else’s life will even be saved. Please God, let it be so.
“One of Us,” the story of three millennials at various stages of exiting the insular Chasidic community, is hardly groundbreaking within the subgenre of ex-Chasidic stories.
The stories are unique, but not drastically different from those we’ve read in ex-Chasid memoirs such as Shulem Deem’s “All Who Go Do Not Return.” Still, as the first widely released documentary film about this struggle, it’s a significant addition to the canon.
A picture is worth a thousand words and a film is worth 24 pictures per second. Movies move us.
On film, “One of Us” becomes something much bigger than powerful stories about three courageous people. In pop culture terms, it’s a cocktail of one part “The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” one part “The Leftovers,” one part “This Is Us,” and a sprinkle of “Praying” by Kesha.
“One of Us” is a story about brokenness. Through the eyes of Luzer, Etty and Ari, we learn that their community is supposed to be perfect, but this perfection was the first thing that broke. Slowly, that imperfection broke each of them, too. But something incredible happens in the process. Their brokenness becomes their strength.
Luzer, Etty and Ari are like Kimmy Schmidt, the ex-cult member at the center of the Netflix sitcom. Each woke up one day in a world in which they know nothing — and the world where they know everything is gone. As Ari says, “I couldn’t Google how to Google because I didn’t know how to Google in the first place.”
Somehow, these people transcended their brokenness in a scary new world, despite missing decades of life experiences and knowledge. They were unbreakable.
Twenty-one years ago, “I’m there for you” was a punchline on “Seinfeld.” Now it’s our superpower.
“Life beats you up,” Kimmy Schmidt once said. “You can either curl up in a ball and die … or you can stand up and say, ‘We’re different. We’re the strong ones and you can’t break us.’”
“One of Us” is a story of that kind of strength.
Brokenness can make us curl up in a ball and die. That happens when the disappointment of discovering imperfections in the things we expected to be perfect is so crushing that we give up. “One of Us” is not the story of all those who were too broken to survive, those who didn’t make it out alive. It’s the story of survivors. Luzer, Etty and Ari are the ones who said, “We’re different,” when they realized their perfect world was a lie. Their brokenness didn’t break them.
Ironically, the insular Chasidic community was built by Holocaust survivors who refused to curl up and die. Their brokenness didn’t break them, either.
“One of Us” is the perfect film for the current pop-culture climate. Famous women in Hollywood silently suffered for years after they were harassed, abused, raped and controlled by powerful predatory men. Today, they are finding the strength to speak up.
Kesha became a symbol of this strength and her single “Prayer” has become an anthem of strength for this movement:
“I can make it on my own and I don’t need you / I found a strength I’ve never known.”
It’s spreading. Women around the world are supporting and empowering one another.
But how does it work?
It is surprisingly simple: Solidarity, empathy, validation and “being there” for one another just works.
Twenty-one years ago, “I’m there for you” was a punchline on “Seinfeld.” Now it’s our superpower.
“One of Us” shows ex-Chasids surviving and thriving because they have one another. They have Footsteps. They have Project Makom. They have us.
All of us will need superhuman strength during our lifetime. Life is fragile and things that seemed perfect betray us with their imperfections. Those moments can kill. Even if our bodies and minds survive, our hearts and souls can curl up in a ball and die. We all want to be the ones who channel our pain and turn a scream into a song. For that, we need to be there for one another.
The film’s most eloquent and beautiful moment comes at a Shabbat dinner. Ex-Chasids gather around an Old World table, eating traditional Chasidic Shabbos foods and singing traditional Chasidic songs.
They’re happy. They’re there for one another. That is power. That is strength.
“One of Us” is about us. Every ex-Chasid is one of us. Let’s be there for ex-Chasids. Let’s be there for all of us.
‘One of Us’ Reveals the Bitter Consequences of Leaving Chasidic Community
Some of this summer’s more notable films explore Middle East terrorism, World War II battles and global warming, while others tell the life stories of seminal figures in music and photography. And there’s a bittersweet movie that is mainly in Yiddish to top it off.
“CITY OF GHOSTS”
The campaign to expose the ISIS takeover of Raqqa, a Syrian city on the Euphrates River, is the subject of “City of Ghosts.” Using their cellphone cameras, a small collection of amateur journalists, who call their group “Raqqa is Being Slaughtered Slowly (RBSS),” photographed the atrocities by ISIS troops bent on establishing a caliphate in the city. These citizen reporters then uploaded the footage to the internet for the world to see what was happening in their homeland.
In the production notes, filmmaker Matthew Heineman is quoted as saying he learned of the group in 2015, made contact with it, gained its members’ trust and began filming interviews with them and using their videos and stills. “I knew almost immediately that I wanted the spine of the story to be deeply personal verité footage, captured as the activists escaped Syria after the assassination of several members by ISIS.
“Since ISIS took over the city in March 2014, journalists have been unable to enter the region, enabling the caliphate to control the narrative of what is happening inside the city with its slick propaganda videos. So, RBSS’ footage — including some that has never been released — provides a unique, up-close and visceral window into daily life in Raqqa,” he said.
The film traces the RBSS movement back to the Arab Spring of 2011, when Raqqa was a center of protests against the regime of Syrian President Bashar Assad. Some 15 friends began reporting on the protests, using their phone cameras and their computers.
Then, in 2014, ISIS troops rolled into the city and quickly instituted a reign of terror, with public executions (shootings and beheadings) and dead bodies strewn on the streets. But, wanting to project an image of a peaceful, beautiful life in the city, ISIS produced increasingly sophisticated videos, disseminating them largely for recruitment purposes.
In reaction, the small band of lay reporters formed RBSS, a website and social media presence, and went undercover to record the brutality. When it became dangerous, some fled to Turkey, then to the relative safety of Germany, where the documentary shows them continuing to receive footage from secret operatives in Raqqa and to post the images on the internet.
“The contrast of ISIS’ videos, which proclaim a fully functioning and prosperous state, with those of RBSS, which captured the dysfunction and violence of everyday life, is shocking. In a sense, it’s a war of ideas, a war of propaganda, a war being waged with cameras and computers, not just guns,” according to Heineman’s statement in the press notes. The filmmaker adds that the film’s themes broadened beyond the war into “the immigrant experience, the strength of brotherhood, and one’s haunting relationship with trauma.”
In one particularly horrific section, the group member named Hamoud watches a video of his father, who is tied to a post, being shot to death by ISIS. Although Hamoud remains stoic, blood begins spurting from his mouth.
Todd McCarthy, in his Hollywood Reporter review, writes, “Heineman offers up a double portrait of devastation, of a truly destroyed city and of partially decimated survivors, leaving the viewer with an empathetic sense of deep sorrow.”
“City of Ghosts” opens July 14.
A largely unknown view of former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill is presented in Jonathan Teplitzky’s World War II drama, “Churchill.” The action takes place just days before D-Day, the Allied invasion of Europe at Normandy, on June 6, 1944.
As the film opens, Churchill (Brian Cox) is strolling near the seashore and suddenly has a vision of the water running red with blood. The movie portrays Churchill’s unwillingness to accept the Allies’ invasion plans, fearing catastrophic losses, together with his own emotional issues and depression.
During an interview with the Journal while on another shoot in Australia, Teplitzky said he was invited onboard the “Churchill” project late in the movie’s development and was very drawn to the story.
“In many ways, in my view, his personal struggles only made his public and political achievements all the more remarkable and substantial, because he stops being a myth and we can see him more as a human being with human flaws,” the director said.
Cox re-creates Churchill’s physicality and his speech patterns, but Teplitzky said he and the actor wanted much more. “Brian and I both wanted a complex and deeply layered character, one whose humanity, vulnerabilities and flaws reveal themselves to us and the audience. We wanted to use the iconic stuff, the physical look and mannerisms, his speech rhythms, etc., as a doorway into this intimate human portrait. His big obsession, I think, comes from guilt in his role in a number of operations, and in particular Gallipoli, which resulted in massive loss of life.”
Churchill was a commander at the Battle of Gallipoli, a World War I disaster that cost hundreds of thousands of British, French, Australian and New Zealand casualties.
“But by now in 1944, with the U.S. in many ways running the Allied war effort, Churchill was somewhat sidelined, so it diluted his influence and ability to enforce change,” Teplitzky said. “This coupled with his depression, the two working off each other and fueling each other, was a big factor in his psychological state. I also think there is an element in the film which is about a man getting old and questioning his relevance.”
Churchill’s reservations about D-Day led him to clash openly with the supreme Allied commander, U.S. Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower (John Slattery), as well as British Gen. Bernard Montgomery (Julian Wadham) and other officers. The prime minister succumbs to one of his periodic attacks of depression and self-medicates by drinking excessively.
It is his strong, assertive wife, Clementine (Miranda Richardson), feeling overlooked and marginalized by her husband, who reminds Churchill that Eisenhower, Montgomery and the others have a great deal of war experience — just as he has.“Don’t complain when someone tells you the truth,” she says.
Ultimately, Churchill is reconciled to D-Day, and when the Allies start winning, he broadcasts a speech over the BBC, telling the nation they have pushed back the Nazis. He states this is not a war for glory, but a war for freedom in which England will never surrender.
Teplitzky believes the film still has much to say about contemporary issues. It explores a man “at the center of momentous events, who presents a flawed but brilliant personality and the way such a personality impacts on people’s lives. We can only understand and learn from history if we look at it from many points of views, not just from a prescriptive and often conservative angle.”
“Churchill” opens June 2.
“LONG STRANGE TRIP”
The documentary “Long Strange Trip“ examines another form of personal demons as it chronicles the 30-year run of the iconic rock group the Grateful Dead and the troubled life of one of the band’s co-founders, Jerry Garcia.
Some audiences may find the four-hour length, broken by an intermission, somewhat intimidating, but the group’s die-hard fans, known as Deadheads, undoubtedly will hang on every word. In addition to many interviews, the film is replete with archival footage, photos, macabre cartoons centered on images of death and, of course, the music.
However, director Amir Bar-Lev, a fan of the band since he was 13, is quoted in the promotional materials as saying he wanted the film to appeal to an audience beyond Deadheads.
“For decades, when Deadheads were pressed as to what was so special about the band,” he states, “they could simply answer something along the lines of, ‘I can’t explain it. You have to go to a show to understand.’ I wanted to challenge myself to do better than that, so I reached out to the most articulate people I know around the Dead scene.”
Just as the band’s music was largely improvisational, the film has the feel of being loosely structured. Band members, a music producer, Garcia’s daughter and others offer unique perspectives on the band and its fans.
The band itself was eclectic, with the original members coming from various musical traditions, so the Dead’s music encompassed jazz, R&B, folk, blues, rock ’n’ roll and other genres.
Garcia, the group’s de facto leader, eschewed the idea of being in charge and envisioned the band as a collective with no preset rules. The disparate bunch he assembled in 1965 was called the Warlocks at first, but when they learned another band had the same name, they became the Grateful Dead, a phrase they found in the dictionary. Early on, they began using the mind-altering drug LSD and soon moved to the Haight-Ashbury district in San Francisco, home to the burgeoning Beat-influenced counterculture of the period.
From there, the film follows the band’s unsuccessful first steps under contract to Warner Bros. Records, its eventual recording triumphs and its decision to focus on being a touring band. There is footage of the now legendary performance at London’s Lyceum Theatre on May 23, 1972, during which Garcia performed a guitar solo of “Morning Dew” with tears running down his face.
But things ultimately got out of hand due to the group’s lack of structure, as well as the unwieldy party atmosphere that evolved among the fans.
There also was heavy drug use. Garcia became increasingly isolated and dependent on heroin until, in 1995, at age 53, he died in his sleep of a heart attack at a rehab center in Marin County.
In the press notes, Bar-Lev responds to a question about whether he was aware that the history of the Dead in many ways mirrors the history of America in the second half of the 20th century. The filmmaker answers by referring to what he calls Garcia’s “radical pluralism” and pointing to the “traveling counter-cultural city” that the band inspired.
He concludes, “It all strikes me as quintessentially American. The Grateful Dead are the musical Statue of Liberty.”
“Long Strange Trip” opens May 26.
“THE B-SIDE: ELSA DORFMAN’S PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPHY”
On a softer level, we have filmmaker Errol Morris’ homage to 80-year-old portrait photographer Elsa Dorfman. With this documentary, Morris departs from his usual weightier fare. His past projects examined such figures as former Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, who admits his mistakes regarding the Vietnam War in “The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons From the Life of Robert S. McNamara,” and Fred A. Leuchter (“Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A. Leuchter, Jr.”), an adviser to prisons on executions who wrote a report denying that gas chambers were used for mass murder at Auschwitz.
With “The B-Side,” Morris has crafted a gentle, sweet work that becomes something of a memoir for Dorfman, one of the last photographers working in an analog format when most photography has gone digital. As the movie progresses, she brings out photograph after photograph and reminisces about her life and work.
After college, Dorfman got a job in New York as a secretary at Grove Press, and there she met famous Beat Generation writers and poets, including Allen Ginsberg, who became a lifelong friend and frequent photographic subject.
As a self-described “nice Jewish girl” from Massachusetts, Dorfman says in the film that the New York world of artists was too much for her, so she returned to Cambridge and went into teaching. It wasn’t until she was 28, in 1965, that she started taking pictures — and in the early1980s, she began using Polaroid’s giant 20×24 camera, shooting large color portraits.
Although Dorfman never garnered the fame of such photographers as Richard Avedon, Milton Greene or Annie Leibovitz, she nevertheless photographed many luminaries in addition to Ginsberg, including poet, painter and activist Lawrence Ferlinghetti, essayist Anaïs Nin, musician Bob Dylan, poet W.H. Auden, and radical feminist and writer Andrea Dworkin.
She also took a series of self-portraits and added captions at the bottom of the photographs. On her cyberjournal, Dorfman writes: “I make self-portraits on my birthday and every now and then when I have only one shot left in the case of film. (I think it is good for me to experience what my subjects are going through — and it is wild to see how I have changed.)”
Whenever she photographed paying clients, she shot two exposures. The customers would choose the one they liked and she would keep the other one, which she dubbed “the B-Side,” hence the film’s title.
Unfortunately, Polaroid went bankrupt and stopped making film for the 20×24 camera. So, as the movie was being shot, Dorfman was facing retirement.
She sums up her approach by saying on her cyberjournal that she doesn’t try to uncover people’s souls. “As a photographer I am not interested in pointing my camera at the pathos of other people’s lives. I don’t try to reveal or to probe. I certainly don’t try to capture souls. (If any soul is revealed, it’s mine.)
“For me the key word is ‘apparently.’ All I hope my photographs say is this person lives and this person was here.”
“The B-Side: Elsa Dorfman’s Portrait Photography” opens June 30.
ALSO OF INTEREST
“An Inconvenient Sequel: Truth to Power” — This film is a follow-up to the 2006 Oscar-winning documentary “An Inconvenient Truth,” in which former Vice President Al Gore made his case for the need to reverse global warming. The sequel tracks the progress made in addressing climate change. The documentary follows Gore as he continues to inspire people to get involved in the movement for alternative, safer forms of energy. Opens July 28.
“Dunkirk” — Here is another World War II film. This one focuses on the evacuation of 300,000 British, French, Belgian and Dutch soldiers from the beaches of Dunkirk, France, in May 1940, as the Nazis invaded. The Allied soldiers were saved with the help of every available British military and civilian ship. Director Christopher Nolan is quoted in Variety as saying, “Dunkirk and the legend of it is something that British people grow up with — it’s in our DNA.” Opens July 21.
“13 Minutes” — Returning again to the second world war era, this movie from Germany is based on the true story of a free-spirited German carpenter, Georg Elser, who planted a bomb set to go off during a speech given by Adolf Hitler on Nov. 8, 1939. But Hitler unexpectedly left 13 minutes before the explosion, and eight unintended victims were killed. Although Elser acted alone, the heads of the Gestapo and the Criminal Police believed he was part of a larger plot and had him tortured, hoping to get the names of co-conspirators. When no names were forthcoming, Elser was sent to the Sachsenhausen concentration camp and then to Dachau, where he ultimately was executed. Opens June 30.
“Menashe” — Loosely based on the life of its star, Menashe Lustig (a YouTube comedian), the movie takes place in Brooklyn’s Chasidic community and is filmed almost completely in Yiddish. The title character, who works in a kosher supermarket, has become a widower and, according to tradition, cannot raise his son without a woman in the house. Pressured either to find a wife or let his married brother-in-law raise the boy, Menashe struggles to prove himself worthy of being a parent. Opens July 28.
Holocaust is passed down and always present in ‘Past Life’
Joy Rieger (left) and Nelly Tagar co-star in “Past Life.” Photo courtesy of TIFF
“The parents ate sour grapes and the children have rotten teeth.”
That line from the film “Past Life” summarizes the story’s exploration of the Holocaust’s effect on subsequent generations.
The movie is the first in a trilogy planned by writer-director Avi Nesher, one of Israel’s foremost filmmakers. “The other two stories also deal with the way the past affects the present, true to the Faulkner quote, ‘The past is never dead. It’s not even past.’ Both stories also feature complex relationships between parents and children — an arena where the past plays a particularly important part,” Nesher said in a recent interview.
The film is based on the book “Can Heaven Be Void?” by Holocaust survivor Baruch Milch, one of the movie’s main characters (played by Doron Tavory). Nesher also used information supplied by Milch’s daughter, Ella Milch-Sheriff, a renowned musician and composer, who contributed to the film’s haunting score.
As the movie begins, it is 1977, andSephi Milch (Joy Rieger), the role based on Milch-Sheriff, is a vocal soloist at a concert in West Berlin. During the reception that follows, a much older woman (Katarzyna Gniewkowska) accosts Sephi and accuses her of being the daughter of a murderer. The woman is with her son (Rafael Stachowiak), a famous composer, who apologizes, saying his mother had a hard time during World War II.
The incident sets a series of events in motion, as the sensitive Sephi and her hard-nosed sister, Nana (Nelly Tagar), begin a quest to uncover painful secrets about their father’s past, especially about what he did while hiding from the Nazis in Poland. Their investigation and what they uncover could well cause a cataclysm in their family. An aura of suspense accompanies the twists and turns of revelations from a dark history.
As the son of Holocaust survivors himself, Nesher said he relates to the story. He explained why he tackled this subject.
“I feel that I live in a country which is trapped in its past and, most particularly, in its traumas,” the director said. “Israel is an extraordinary nation, which has [had] incredible achievements in its 69 years of existence, and yet the trauma of the Holocaust is still used by Israeli politicians in order to justify political maneuvers that do not necessarily serve the greater Israeli good. National traumas [such as slavery in America] can only be solved culturally, and cinema is a great catalyst for initiating such a process.”
The Milch family lives in Israel, and Baruch, a gynecologist, is drawn as a toughened man who was hard on his daughters, especially on Nana, whom he beat when she was young. The real-life Baruch Milch revealed his own embittered nature through his book, in which he wrote his personal Ten Commandments, such as “Though shalt have no other God before yourself,” “Do not have faith — the sky is empty,” “Toughen your heart and do not heed it” and “Do not get close to people, and do not bring them close to you.”
“Baruch is a man who believes that we live in a tough, cruel world, and you cannot afford to display any weakness, or kindness, or magnanimity. He expects the world out of his daughters. He wants them to achieve great things and, in a way, accomplish what history prevented him from accomplishing,” Nesher said. He added, “For me, the central themes of this film are the acceptance of humans as flawed beings and the inevitable conclusion of this acceptance, which is forgiveness.”
Another theme in the film is sexism. Sephi wants to be a composer, but her chauvinistic instructor discourages her, saying there are no female composers of any note. Ultimately, she triumphs.
All in all, Nesher believes his film’s core issues are relevant today, especially in his area of the world.
“As an Israeli, I feel that I am part of a battle between two people [Jewish and Palestinian] who carry a very heavy emotional load regarding the past and are out for ‘justice,’ ” he said. “I believe that, in this case, justice is a dangerous and impractical concept — forgiveness is the first step toward coexistence. Each side can develop a compelling argument as to why they are ‘right’ and the other side is ‘wrong’ — but that will translate to much future bloodshed.”
As for what Nesher would like audiences to take away from his film, he said, “I would like people to think of their own past and how it shapes, for better or for worse, their own present.”
“Past Life” opens in Los Angeles on June 2.
Lebanon calls for ban of ‘Wonder Woman’ film because lead actress Gal Gadot is Israeli
Aaron Davidman plays 17 characters from the U.S., Israel and the West Bank in the film “Wrestling Jerusalem.” Photo by Ken Friedman
It’s not easy to adapt a one-man play to a feature-length film. The intensity of a live performance can get lost in such a visual medium as cinema. Yet somehow, “Wrestling Jerusalem,” which conveys the complexity of the Israel-Palestine conflict through a series of dramatic monologues, manages to translate to the big screen.
Writer and performer Aaron Davidman, the only actor in the film, plays 17 characters from the United States, Israel and the West Bank. These voices offer unique political, social and religious perspectives on a long-simmering feud in a volatile corner of the world.
There’s Jacob, an older American who rails at the double standard Israel is held to; Ibrahim, a Palestinian whose family’s orchards were destroyed to build the separation wall; and Arnon, an Israeli special forces commander who explains why civilian casualties are regrettable but unpreventable. There’s also a farmer, a physician and a United Nations worker.
For each character, the redheaded, goateed Davidman speaks with a different accent and cadence; some suggest reasons to be hopeful and others offer only anguish and despair.
“Cinema is just a totally different art form,” he said, comparing the new film to the stage version. “It was exciting to explore the subtleties of the close-up, and the intimate, internal lives of these characters that you can’t get to in the theater.”
There also are scenes in vast desert landscapes, which on a big screen conveys the emotional journey of these characters. “Film can hold the epic nature of this conflict and the searching questions that are in the middle of the conflict,” Davidman said.
The play premiered at Intersection for the Arts in San Francisco in March 2014. Davidman toured with it for a year before it was filmed by director Dylan Kussman. He and Davidman have been friends and collaborators for more than 25 years. They considered casting actors to play the different characters but ultimately decided against it.
“The power of it is that all these characters are in one person,” Kussman said. “And it’s ultimately this statement about multiplicity, about simultaneously holding conflicting ideas within ourselves, and why that’s a powerful tool for advancing a conversation about a very difficult and complex subject.”
The movie was shot in 10 days in 2015. Half of that time was spent in the Mojave Desert, which served as a stand-in for the Negev. The other scenes take place at Marines’ Memorial Theatre in San Francisco. They shot for two days in a dressing room, in which Davidman addresses himself in the mirror, and three days onstage, including a performance in front of a sold-out crowd.
The movie is shot simply, using three cameras, with lighting and sound design adding to the drama. The props include only a few pieces of furniture in the desert: a row of bus seats, a desk and a chair, and a table with an umbrella. Throughout the film, Davidman wears only a tan button-down shirt and khaki pants, causing him to nearly disappear amid the sand and rocks.
Davidman and Kussman both found inspiration in another screen adaptation of a solo show, Spalding Gray’s “Swimming to Cambodia,” directed by the recently deceased Jonathan Demme. That film, made 30 years ago, shows Gray seated at a desk in a theater, recounting stories over a soundtrack composed by Laurie Anderson.
Without that film, “there would be no ‘Wrestling Jerusalem,’ ” Kussman said. “I really believe that. Because when we went through the really gut-checking conversation of, ‘Can you translate a one-man show to film?’ I kept on saying to myself, ‘Demme did it.’ ”
“That movie was so important in the theater world, of [showing] look what you can do,” Davidman added. “Of course, we wanted to go beyond that, we didn’t want to just be sitting in the theater … but that was a point of departure, for sure.”
Davidman and Kussman are developing another film project, which Davidman described as “a psychological thriller involving white nationalism and the re-emergence of Jews in Poland.”
Davidman also has been working with Google’s executive training department, screening “Wrestling Jerusalem” and leading discussions with global executives as part of a series of workshops called “Leading in Complexity.”
“They’ve got complex problems they’ve got to solve,” he said. “To look at this piece, not so much because it’s Israel-Palestine, but because it holds multiple perspectives, because it has compassion for people that are different from you, and because it models one person embodying so many points of view, that’s what they’re really excited about and interested in.”
Davidman estimates he has performed the show live 142 times. He always ends with an audience discussion about the issues at the heart of “Wrestling Jerusalem.” Allowing people to take time to reflect, listen and engage with others who may not share their perspectives is the most profound aspect of the project, he said, and several of the film screenings also will end with discussions.
“I see myself as a vessel for the audience, who want to dig deeper, or have questions, or feel moved, or are upset, or whatever they are,” Davidman said. “I don’t want to explain the movie, but I’m happy to help take the conversation further … especially now. We’re not doing that in public. We’re dismissive of people that don’t agree with us. We’re contemptuous of the other side. We don’t have time for it. And I’m asking people to enter into this narrative with me and then be brave enough to stay curious.”
“Wrestling Jerusalem” will screen from May 12-18 at the Laemmle Music Hall 3 in Beverly Hills. The official L.A. premiere will be on May 13. For more information about showings, go to wrestlingjerusalem.com.
Wallace Shawn finds perfect time to bring his play ‘Designated Mourner’ to Los Angeles
Ela Thier wrote, directed and stars in “Tomorrow Ever After.” Photo courtesy of Rohr Chabad Jewish Student Center at USC
Many science fiction films depict a future that is colder and more oppressive than our present day — dystopias like those in movies ranging from 1927’s “Metropolis” to 2012’s “The Hunger Games.” But Israeli-born writer-director Ela Thier prefers to consider the opposite possibility.
“I wanted to turn that paradigm on its head,” she said during a telephone interview from her apartment in New York’s East Harlem. “What if the future is exactly what we’d want it to be … a world that is built on compassion? We’re taught in subtle ways to believe that’s impossible — that greed, violence and shortsightedness are inevitable. But I wanted to create a film to make us question that assumption.”
The result is Thier’s new comedy-drama, “Tomorrow Ever After,” spotlighting a historian named Shaina (played by Thier), who accidentally gets transported from the year 2692 to New York City circa 2015. Hers is a benevolent society where loneliness and even national borders have been eradicated. So in the early 21st century, she experiences a profound culture shock as she is mugged, encounters cynicism and realizes that people often ignore one another. The film follows Shaina’s struggle to comprehend this alien world, as well as the effect that her own kindness has on a diverse group of New Yorkers.
The citizens of 2015 are immersed in a period that Shaina’s contemporaries refer to as the “Great Despair.”
“In many ways, we’re so used to feeling discouraged that we don’t even notice it,” Thier said. “Like the fact that you can live next door to someone for years and never even know their name. And we say this is an isolation that our culture views as normal. The film tries to get people to consider that something else is possible.”
Thier believes filmmakers “can play a really important role in helping to create the world that the movie describes. For me, being an artist is doing my part in tikkun olam [repairing the world].”
Thier, 45, believes “Tomorrow Ever After” is a film she could make precisely because she’s Israeli. She traces her point of view to growing up in the working-class town of Yavne.
“We were one of only two white families at the time. It was mostly Jews of color, from North African and other Arab countries,” she said. “I absorbed tremendous wisdom living there — a sense of generosity and hospitality — that our culture today often can dismiss or overlook.”
Yet in 1982, Thier, then 11, and her family were dispirited upon the onset of the Lebanon War. Thier’s uncle was killed by friendly fire during the conflict and the filmmaker vividly recalls “the tension in our home waiting every day to find out that my father was still with us.”
“My dad had been in several Israeli wars at that point, and he was not OK joining another one,” she said. “My parents didn’t think of that war as being a war of defense and they didn’t want to participate.”
And so the family left Israel in 1982 and moved to West Hartford, Conn., where Thier, like the fictional heroine of “Tomorrow Ever After,” experienced a deep culture shock. Her classmates often ostracized her, and one of them even asked her if any Israeli girls were pretty.
Thier eventually befriended the only other immigrant girl in her class, a student from Vietnam, and the preteens bonded over their shared struggle to adapt to life in America.
In 2009, those memories prompted Thier to make a short film, “A Summer Rain,” and then a 2012 feature, “Foreign Letters,” about her days as an Israeli newcomer in the United States.
In “Tomorrow Ever After,” Thier deliberately reveals that her character is Jewish. “That was a shoutout to my people to let them know that I don’t see us going anywhere,” she said. “As far as the future goes, Jews are going to be around, and thankfully so.”
Thier, meanwhile, is devoted to creating her own sense of artistic and geographical community in New York. She has mentored a diverse group of filmmakers through her Independent Film School, which she founded in 2006.
And since moving to East Harlem about two months ago, she is trying to get to know her new neighbors.
“I’d love to … have a local community of people that supports each other in their personal lives,” she said. “That’s going to be my project for the next 10 years.”
“Tomorrow Ever After” opens in Los Angeles on May 5.
Henry Jaglom’s ‘Train to Zakopané’ carries an unexpected love story
in “Norman.” Phoro courtesy of Sony Pictures
If you recall Richard Gere as the WASP-y hunk in “Pretty Woman,” it takes a mighty leap of the imagination to visualize him as Norman Oppenheimer, a New York shlub and small-time fixer.
But that’s the role he plays — and plays superbly — in “Norman: The Moderate Rise and Tragic Fall of a New York Fixer.”
Almost as unlikely is that the director and writer of “Norman” is Joseph Cedar, making his American movie debut. Though born in New York, his family made aliyah when he was 6 years old, and he has since made his mark as the director of some of the top Israeli movies of the past two decades. Two of his pictures have earned Academy Award nominations, “Beaufort” in 2007 and “Footnote” in 2011.
As Norman, Gere embodies that often annoying, sometimes pathetic and occasionally useful figure who will press his advice and services on you, whether you want them or not. He’ll tell you how to get the best deal at a store, find the best restaurant in town and knows — or pretends to know — the right person to fix your problems with city hall.
An inveterate name-dropper, Norman lives in the hope of attaching himself to an influential figure, whose real or imagined endorsement will earn him legitimacy and respect.
His lucky day arrives when he encounters an Israeli deputy minister of trade (Lior Ashkenazi) in New York, during a low point in his diplomatic career, and insists on buying him an exorbitantly expensive pair of shoes. Three years later, the shoe recipient has become the prime minister of his country and, at a reception, embraces Norman warmly. Suddenly, the fixer is perceived by New York’s Jewish elite as a man of real standing and influence, well worth cultivating.
But, as the full movie title indicates, Norman’s sudden rise is followed by an abrupt fall as he becomes the unwitting foil of a major political scandal.
This reporter first met Cedar, now 48, some 17 years ago in a very modest midtown hotel, when he came to Los Angeles to promote his first Israeli film, “A Time of Favor,” and was figuratively knocking on doors to establish some Hollywood connections. As an observant Modern Orthodox Jew, Cedar was an anomaly among the more hedonistic film colonies in Tel Aviv and Hollywood.
Later, when one of his films placed among the five Oscar finalists in the foreign-language film category, Cedar was asked to participate in the customary advance panel discussion among the five directors who had made the cut. Trouble was that the event was scheduled on a Saturday and Cedar wrestled with the problem of participating without violating Shabbat laws.
He didn’t mind walking a few miles from his hotel to the event venue — nearly unheard of in Los Angeles — but the question was whether he would be allowed to use a microphone during the panel discussion. Cedar phoned his rabbi in Israel and together they found a solution to the knotty problem.
The Journal reunited with the filmmaker again recently — this time he stayed at a fashionable Beverly Hills hotel and was in the company of Gere, still a strikingly handsome figure at 67. There, he considered how he managed the considerable leap from directing Hebrew-language Israeli films, with a necessarily limited international audience, to a major English-language American movie (though with some brief Hebrew conversations).
“In a sense, I was something like Norman and needed someone to open doors for me,” Cedar said.
Gere noted that when Jewish directors fled Nazi Germany and tried to gain a foothold in Hollywood, Charlie Chaplin gave them a leg up. In Cedar’s case, the door opener is Oren Moverman, an Israeli-American producer long established in New York, who also got Gere involved in the project.
The veteran actor of some 60 films, who was raised as a Methodist but now is a Buddhist, said of his role: “I never jumped as far away from who I actually am and from how I would react to the humiliations Norman endured. I have never remotely played a character like him.”
While the “fixer” persona, who attaches himself to someone in power, is certainly not a uniquely Jewish phenomenon, Jews as historically a small minority in host countries were more likely to cling to a more powerful protector, Cedar said, citing in particular the figure of the medieval court Jew.
Yet, there is a universal appeal — or revulsion — to the Norman character.
Gere recalled attending a film festival screening of “Norman” in Miami, at which the actor, asking for a show of hands, found that about 20 percent of the audience was Jewish and 80 percent Latino. Probing further, Gere concluded that “the Latinos got the essence of the Norman character just as clearly as did the Jewish audience.”
Cedar plans to helm at least one more American movie, he said, but Gere vowed that he had no interest in playing another Norman character. “Norman is so far out,” he said. “He is the most unique character I’ve ever met.”
“Norman” opens April 14 at the Arclight Hollywood and The Landmark and on April 21 at Laemmle’s Playhouse 7 in Pasadena and the Town Center in Encino.
Podcast – FAUDA: the Israeli Netflix TV hit with co-creator Avi Issacharoff
In THE LAST WORD, a retired businesswoman named Harriet (Academy Award winner Shirley MacLaine) confronts her mortality as she sculpts her own obituary.Harriet targets Anne (Amanda Seyfried), a reporter, to distill her life into its final success story. The pair take a metaphorical–and literal–journey with Brenda (newcomer Ann’Jewel Lee), a pre-teen who has as much to gain from the relationship as the other two.The movie also stars Thomas Sadowski, Anne Heche, Philip Baker Hall and Tom Everett Scott. Mark Pellington (ARLINGTON ROAD, THE MOTHMAN PROPHECIES, COLD CASE) directs.
I spoke with director Mark Pellington about symbolism and themes in THE LAST WORD. He sees the film as a study in mortality and what each of us leave behind at the end of our lives. Pellington says: “I want these characters to have suffered some degree of loss, yet I don’t want it to be through death. I want them to be left alone in that they’re searching to become a little more whole, a little more complete.”
Harriet, Ann and Brenda come together as incomplete sides of the same coin. Each is missing a specific person in their lives within the parent/child relationship, but lacks in other important ways, too. For example, Harriet appreciates the qualities about Brenda with which she herself identifies. However, these are the very characteristics she regrets in herself having let them rule her life. Brenda’s ability to say anything and stick up for herself are laudable, though without a measure of regulation they will overtake her life the same way they have Harriet’s.
The women’s evolution is emphasized during a baptismal scene of cleansing as they go for a late-night swim. Traditional film analysis looks at water from this perspective, and Pellington does as well. “By the end, for her to take off her clothes, to let it go, to get messy is a change she was ready to go through because she had achieved these goals of seeing herself differently,” he explains.
The film shows that evolution is possible regardless of age or temperament and nothing is a replacement for personal connection. Isolation comes in many forms. The first shot of Harriet is standing in a dormer window looking out at the grounds of her home. Ann sits in isolation, blaring loud music on her massive headphones, though she’s surrounded by coworkers. Even Brenda’s first interaction sets her apart as she battles a recreation center supervisor.
The complicated relationship among the trio becomes an unexpected friendship in this coming-of-age story. True to life, it is sometimes impossible to realize something is missing until you’re confronted by it.
For more about THE LAST WORD, including Shirley MacLaine’s thoughts on labeling women in Hollywood, take a look below:
—>Looking for the direct link to the video? Click here.
Bringing together Palestinians, Israelis both on screen and behind the scenes
“Junction 48” starring Samar Qupty and Tamer Nafar, who co-wrote the film. Photo courtesy of the Match Factory.
In May, Israel’s Jews will celebrate the 69th anniversary of the state’s birth, while the country’s Arabs will mourn the event as a nakba, or catastrophe.
All attempts so far to forge a durable peace between the two Semitic peoples have come to naught. Even well-meaning optimists are throwing up their hands — but director Udi Aloni is not one of them.
“We can create a beautiful community, we can create a beautiful people,” Aloni insisted in a phone interview from Berlin, where he is shooting a film. “But first we have to acknowledge that we are two equal people.”
If there is such a thing as left-wing royalty, Udi Aloni is the crown prince. He is the son of Shulamit Aloni, a longtime Israeli minister of education and early champion of civil liberties, who consistently challenged her country’s religious establishment and the government’s occupation policies.
Unlike his mother, Udi Aloni’s stage is not the floor of the Knesset but the movie set, and he considers his latest film, “Junction 48,” as proof that Jews and Arabs in Israel can work together for their mutual good.
However, Aloni’s movie — about a Palestinian hip-hop artist and his singer girlfriend who try to use music to express both their political and humanistic beliefs — seems to make it clear that he sees the fault for the impasse as lying almost entirely with the Israelis. It shows, on balance, the Israelis as the oppressors and the Palestinians as the victims.
Aloni has no illusions that this view will be embraced by most Israelis in the near future. Asked how many Israelis shared his political and philosophical outlook, he answered, “About 1 percent.”
Palestinians who remained in their towns and villages after Israel’s military victory in the 1948 War of Independence frequently are labeled “48ers” and they consider their defeat as a junction between their old and current lives. Thus the title of the movie, which is set in the city called Lod by its Jewish inhabitants and Lyd by the Arab population. Lod/Lyd is the site of Ben Gurion Airport, about a 20-minute drive from Tel Aviv.
One of its best-known residents is Tamer Nafar, widely known as the fist Arab rap artist. He is both the co-writer and star of the film, which is based largely on his own experiences. As in his stage appearances, he uses his talents to convey both the deep resentments and the hopes of his people.
A very similar theme pervades the recent movie “The Idol,” this year’s Palestinian entry in the Oscar race. In “Idol’s” case, the protagonist is a more conventional singer, from a hardscrabble Palestinian background, who becomes the voice of his people when he goes to Cairo and places first in the top-rated TV show “Arab Idol.”
If the outsider’s image of Jews and Arabs in Israel is that of two completely separate communities, both the reality and the scenario in “Junction 48” are quite different.
For instance, there is the mind-bending scene in a Tel Aviv nightclub, where Jewish rappers sing “Am Yisrael Chai” (The People of Israel Live) and their act is followed by Kareem (Nafar) and his group with “Burn It, George,” a chant to alert his buddies when Israeli police are about to raid their drug hoard. More political is the next number, “Hamas Is in the Air, Raise Your Voices, Wake Up the Neighbors,” when Kareem’s girlfriend, Manar (Samar Qupty), laments in a song, “I have no land, I have no country.”
In another example of cross-ethnic relations, Kareem and his Palestinian buddies make a night of it in a Jewish bordello.
Udi Aloni directed “Junction 48” which is based largely on his own experiences. Photos courtesy of the Match Factory.
The movie is filled with striking scenes, such as a bulldozer demolishing a Palestinian’s home in order to erect a future “Museum of Coexistence.”
Other elements are just plain weird. Take Kareem’s mother, who is first seen attending a meeting of the local Communist Party cell in a room decorated with images of Marx and Lenin. Later, the mother has become a faith healer, applying Quranic verses to “cure” a Jewish youngster.
“Junction 48” also has a strong feminist thread, mainly in Manar’s struggle to assert her independence as an artist and a woman. As director Aloni points out, “Palestinian women have to fight against both Israel and their Palestinian male oppression.”
Aloni cites the making of “Junction 48” as one concrete example of close collaboration between Israel’s Arabs and Jews. Another joint effort underlays the film’s financing, partially through the Israel Film Fund, administered by the government, and partially through the privately supported Palestinian Film Fund.
As to his own feelings about the situation between these two Semitic peoples in Israel, Aloni remarks, “The more I work with Palestinians, the more they raise my Jewish consciousness.”
“Junction 48” opens March 3 at Laemmle’s Royal Theatre in West Los Angeles.
Growing up Jewish, black and with a famous dad’s drugs and hookers
If movies and documentaries mirror, or perhaps anticipate, a nation’s mood, Israel is due for a period of reflection and introspection, focusing on relations with its Palestinian and other minority citizens.
In recent months, Israeli films have scraped some of the gloss off the Six-Day War (“Censored Voices”) and the 1948 struggle for independence (“The Ruins of Lifta”), while “Colliding Dreams” dug into the history of Zionism while exploring relations between Jews and Arabs over the past century.
A parallel sub-genre has provided a penetrating look into the lifestyles of two other minority groups in Israel, both living in the Negev. “Baba Joon,” dealing with the hardscrabble Jewish farmers who left Iran during the Islamic Revolution of 1979, was Israel’s Oscar entry last year, followed this year by “Sand Storm,” entirely in Arabic and probing family life within the Bedouin community.
A new entry is “Disturbing the Peace,” which might as justifiably be called “Disturbing the Fighting.” The documentary follows a group called “Combatants for Peace,” consisting mainly of former Israeli soldiers and their former Palestinian enemies, now jointly searching for a path toward ending their long conflict.
Fairly typical of the group’s membership are co-founders Chen Alon and Suliman al-Khatib. The latter joined Fatah at 13 and one year later was arrested for attacking two Israelis and sentenced to 10 years in an Israeli prison.
Alon served four years in the Israeli army, followed by 10 years as an operations officer in the reserves. Subsequently, he signed a petition by Israeli soldiers and officers refusing to serve in the “occupied territories” of the West Bank. He now works as a theater director and lecturer at Tel Aviv University.
The founders and first adherents of the nascent peace group met in 2005, spent a year building mutual trust, using as one tool a technique pioneered by the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, in which former enemies owned up to their transgressions.
“I helped destroy a Palestinian village,” acknowledges a former Israeli soldier in the film. “I killed two Israelis,” says his Palestinian counterpart.
In 2006, the small group felt strong enough to go public, according to Stephen Apkon, the film’s co-director with fellow American Andrew Young, who doubled as cinematographer.
Such mutual confidences also yielded clues to the individual process of transformation. One Palestinian, for instance, said that while imprisoned, he saw “Schindler’s List” and started feeling some compassion for the Jews and later tried to understand what motivated the Israelis.
Today, Apkon said in a phone interview, the peace group counts close to 300 active members, equally divided between Israelis and Palestinians and organized in eight regional chapters in such towns as Tel Aviv and Tulkarem, Jerusalem and Hebron.
Although the group’s demonstrations and memorial services for the victims on both sides draw several thousand people, according to Apkon, the group is not nearly as large and well-known as the Peace Now movement in Israel and its allies in the Diaspora.
However, Apkon argues, the Combatants group draws its credibility through the men and women who once put their lives on the line in fighting one another and have now joined forces, braving the frequent contempt and hostility of their compatriots on both sides. Considerable segments of the Israeli population and government view the group as far left and an apologist for enemies of the Jewish state.
Apkon, founder of the Jacob Burns Film Center in Pleasantville, N.Y., invested four years — and considerable emotion — in directing and producing “Disturbing the Peace.”
The film’s title derives partially from a scene toward the end, in which chanting Israeli and Palestinian demonstrators, with colorful banners, puppets and a marching band, break through a symbolic wall separating them. Members of a platoon of Israeli soldiers, watching the goings-on warily, are invited to take off their uniforms and join the demonstration. Eventually, though, the soldiers arrest the two leaders, one from each ethnic group, charging them with “disturbing the peace.”
Apkon interprets this charge as, in fact, “disturbing the status quo,” and cites such other “disturbers” as Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. and Nelson Mandela.
Interspersing narrations, interviews and newsreel footage with occasional re-enactments, the film shows reconciliation between former enemies, but also conflict within the same family.
When Jamel Qassas, whose brother was killed by Israeli soldiers during the First Intifada, tells his wife, Fatima, that he wants to take their children to a peace demonstration, she objects heatedly. “The Israelis took our house,” she argues, “but let us use the bathroom.”
Ultimately, the key to reconciliation between enemies, not only in the Middle East but across the globe, is to realize the cliché of “standing in another man’s shoes,” Apkon believes.
He cites an old news story about the struggle between Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland, during which a school was bombed and destroyed. One of the few things left in the rubble was a poster that read, “If you were born where they were born, and you were taught what they were taught, you’d believe what they believe.”
“Disturbing the Peace” opens Nov. 18 at Laemmle’s Music Hall in Beverly Hills.
The day after the election: Jewish community reacts
It is unusual that two important German films focused on the same protagonist have been released within months of each other, the more so since the central character is a Jewish homosexual who died 48 years ago.
That man, Fritz Bauer, was the post-World War II attorney general of Hesse, the German state that includes Frankfurt as its largest city. Bauer used his position as a springboard to force a reluctant German government and people to face the crimes of the war and the Holocaust.
In the first of the two films, “The Labyrinth of Lies,” Bauer struggles for a decade to push the German government to put on trial the men (and women) who kept the Auschwitz death camp running.
The period covered by the second movie, “The People vs. Fritz Bauer,” precedes the Auschwitz trials and deals with the more widely known pursuit and capture of Adolf Eichmann, the SS colonel who kept the trains running to the concentration camps, even against the orders of his boss, Heinrich Himmler. (The film’s German title translates more accurately as “The State, or Government, vs. Fritz Bauer,” and refers to the constant opposition to Bauer from former Nazis who retained high posts in postwar “democratic” West Germany.)
Bauer was born in Germany and was embarked on a promising career as a judge when Hitler came to power and kicked all Jews off the bench.
It didn’t help Bauer that he considered himself primarily an atheist and German socialist, so he emigrated first to Denmark and then, after the German invasion, escaped in the boatlift to Sweden.
Following the defeat of the Third Reich, Bauer returned to Germany and was named attorney general for Hesse. The Germans were in general quite unenthusiastic about the return of their one-time “fellow citizens of the Mosaic faith,” fearing that they would seek revenge for the suffering inflicted by their former countrymen and go as far as to demand return of their homes and businesses.
Bauer, powerfully portrayed by veteran German actor Burghart Klaussner, certainly identified more as a German than a Jew, was not out for revenge, but sought another goal: To identify the worst Nazi perpetrators and to try them before German courts — not so much as punishment but as a lesson to the new, and hopefully more democratic, second and third generations of postwar Germans.
After the German defeat, many top Nazis committed suicide or were put on trial at Nuremberg, while others, including Eichmann, escaped abroad, assuming new identities and living underground.
Bauer was one of the first to go after Eichmann, but knowing that the post-war German intelligence service was riddled with former Nazis who would likely tip off the fugitive Eichmann, Bauer turned for help to Israel’s Mossad, even at the risk of being charged with treason.
The Mossad proved quite skeptical about Bauer’s information, until he got a break — he received a letter from a German living in Argentina whose daughter was going out with a boy he believed to be the son of Adolf Eichmann.
The rest is history, including the capture and trial of Eichmann in Israel – not in Germany, as Bauer had hoped — and it was not until 10 years after Bauer’s death, in 1968, that documents surfaced detailing his major contribution to Eichmann’s capture.
One of the film’s sub-themes is Bauer’s homosexuality as well as that of his most loyal assistant, Karl Angermann (Ronald Zehrfeld). The Hitler regime had put into effect draconian laws punishing homosexuality, which remained on the books of the post-war German government.
The threat of prosecution and punishment opened Bauer to blackmail, but neither that risk nor repetitive death threats deterred him.
Lars Kraume, the film’s director, is, at 43, part of the third post-war generation, which, Bauer hoped, would face head-on the guilt of their elders and turn Germany into a truly democratic society.
One of the box office strengths of his film, Kraume said in a phone interview, is its use of a favorite Hollywood theme: the lone guy battling the forces of evil or indifference.
Kraume said he dislikes German films that, like the TV hit “Generation War,” show a few inhumane Nazis on top misleading the otherwise good and suffering citizenry. Equally, he will not make graphic Holocaust films, saying, “I don’t want German actors parading around in Nazi uniforms or wearing the garb of concentration camp prisoners.” His film takes place after Germany’s defeat, so while there were government officials who had been or were ideologically Nazis, nobody still wore Nazi uniforms — which were in any case illegal —and, of course, no survivors still wore concentration camp garb.
In his next project, Kraume will continue his exploration of post-war Germany, but this time in the eastern part of the divided country under Communist rule. The planned film, titled “The Silent Classroom” (no release date yet) is based on an actual incident in the 1950s, following the Hungarian revolt against Soviet rule, when a group of German students in a high school near Berlin decided to put into practice the vaunted “socialist solidarity” by holding a minute of silence to honor the victims of the uprising.
This gesture so upset the East German government that it sent the country’s Minister of Education to confront the class and demand the names of the ringleaders. In the face of the students’ silence, the minister disbanded the entire class shortly before graduation, which was followed by the defection of the students to West Germany.
“The People vs. Fritz Bauer” opens Aug. 19 at Laemmle’s Royal Theater in West Los Angeles, Town Center in Encino and Playhouse in Pasadena, as well as the Edwards Westpark in Irvine.
Mid-August political notes: This race is probably over, now what?
Daniel Burman, the Jewish-Argentine writer and director of “The Tenth Man,” was once offered a film project by a Hollywood studio, but he declined.
“I don’t like late parties and I’m usually in bed by 9 p.m.,” he said, explaining his disinclination to spend much time in our party town during an interview, via a Spanish-English translator.
Burman (pronounced Boorman), 42, sounds kind of laid back, at least in contrast to the stereotype of the frenzied Hollywood (read: Jewish) director, and his new movie partakes somewhat of the same quality.
The movie’s Spanish title, “El Rey del Once” (The King of Once), refers to the Buenos Aires district of Once, the Argentine equivalent of New York’s old Lower East Side, where immigrant Jews from Eastern Europe lived among their own while their children became part of the new homeland.
All of the film’s main characters, and the actors who portray them, are Jewish, starting with Ariel (Alan Sabbagh), a somewhat pudgy, 40-year-old bachelor. He now works as an economist in New York but has returned to the old neighborhood during the week of Purim, mainly to connect with his father, who goes by the single name of Usher.
When Ariel was growing up, his father was always too busy as a Jewish community organizer and as the fallback 10th man for every funeral and other minyan to pay much attention to the boy.
“Why does death always require a quorum of 10 men?” the neglected Ariel wonders.
Usher, who is never seen but constantly gives directions and assignments to Ariel via cellphone, is now head of Once’s Jewish welfare agency. If the movie’s Usher and his staff seem real, it’s because they are the actual people who work at the agency.
Always short of funds, the agency’s operation relies on makeshift solutions, such as sending a hungry petitioner to a nearby bar mitzvah celebration to gorge himself.
Another assignment for Ariel, via Usher’s cellphone, is to clean up the apartment of a recently deceased woman with instructions to scour her medicine cabinet for drugs that might be useful to a future agency client — and don’t pay any attention to the expiration date.
Ariel is also dispatched to a hospital to persuade a patient, a giant of a man, to finally take a shower.
It turns out that there is method to Usher’s series of assignments: By sending his unmarried assistant Eva (Julieta Zylberberg) to the same place as Ariel, he hopes something will click between them. Eva is pretty, prim and devoutly Orthodox. She also goes to the mikvah, where Ariel spies on her, admires her backside and the relationship grows warmer.
Throughout the film, the action is accompanied by a rich menu of Jewish songs, dances and rituals to gladden the heart of even the most casual member of the tribe.
In the movie’s final scene, during a Purim celebration, Ariel cruises down the street in an old convertible — the King of Once, with a paper crown on his head.
While Hollywood and European films on the Jewish experience frequently touch on the problems of subtle or pronounced anti-Semitism, this is not the case for Argentine movies.
Although in the past, during the Peron dictatorship and Argentina’s “dirty war,” many Jews suffered and a considerable number immigrated to Israel, the situation has changed drastically, Burman said.
“Judaism and the Jewish identity are very natural to me and I haven’t experienced any anti-Semitism,” Burman, the son of Polish-Jewish immigrants, observed, although added, “Perhaps there has been some discrimination and I just didn’t realize it. I am happy to have been born in an age when I can live as a Jew without fears for my survival.”
“The Tenth Man” opens Aug. 5 at Laemmle’s Royal Theater in West Los Angeles and Town Center in Encino.
Does an American Jewish historian’s rejection of Zionism signal broader trend?
‘Indignation’ brings Philip Roth’s novel about anti-Semitism to the big screen
by Charles Munitz, JTA | PUBLISHED Jul 26, 2016 | Hollywood
James Schamus remembers the block he faced while writing the screenplay for Ang Lee’s 1994 film “Eat Drink Man Woman.” Creating the right voices for the film’s Taiwanese characters was not going well “and Ang Lee was getting very nervous.”
In a desperate effort to turn the script around, Schamus, who is Jewish, decided he would “just make them all Jewish in my mind,” changing the names to Jewish ones during the writing and then changing them back to Chinese names afterward. The technique succeeded; the result was a modern cinematic classic.
That capacity to bridge cultural differences while working within one’s own idiom is evident in “Indignation,” Schamus’ adaptation of Philip Roth’s 2008 novel. The film traces the effects of subtle institutional anti-Semitism on a “nice Jewish boy” and stellar student from New Jersey attending a conservative, Christian-influenced college in the Midwest in 1951. In his directorial debut, the veteran screenwriter (“The Ice Storm,” “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”) and producer (“Brokeback Mountain”) manages to remain empathetic to all his characters, even the most seemingly anti-Semitic one.
“Indignation,” which was screened at the Sundance Film Festival in January, arrives in theaters July 29. Schamus, along with star Logan Lerman, sat down with JTA in Boston on July 18.
Roth’s novel is set in the middle of the Korean War. Marcus Messner, 19, a bright Jewish kid from Newark, flees his neurotically controlling father, a kosher butcher, by transferring from a local college to the fictional Winesburg College in Ohio. (Through not explicitly autobiographical, “Indignation” draws from Roth’s parallel experience transferring as a sophomore to Bucknell College in Pennsylvania from the Newark campus of Rutgers University.) Though serious and studious, Marcus finds himself in a strange land. Obligated with other students to attend chapel regularly, he is newly constrained and cornered by completely different forces than those that forced him out of Newark.
At Winesburg, Marcus also encounters the beautiful but troubled non-Jewish beauty Olivia Hutton. Living somewhat dangerously for the first time, Marcus is lured by another Jewish student into dodging chapel attendance and by Olivia into dark sensual corners, leading him eventually to clash with Winesburg’s patrician dean, Hawes D. Caudwell. The dean’s insinuating and vexing cross-examination effectively draws out Marcus’ indignation and defines his fate. (The novel is explicit about the nature of that fate early on, but the film does not reveal it until the very end, so we’ll avoid the spoiler here.)
A central but daringly extended scene in the film depicts the charged encounter between Marcus (a penetrating and simmering performance by Lerman, the boyish heartthrob from the “Percy Jackson” adventure series and the 2012 film “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”) and the dean (played tautly and convincingly by Tracy Letts, also a Tony Award-winning playwright). Schamus’ script manages to expose the subtly prejudicial indictment by the very non-Jewish dean of the Jewish kid, demonstrating the dean’s sincere admiration as well as his scorn.
Director Schamus, who grew up in a strongly identified Jewish family in Southern California and now lives in New York, and 24-year-old star Lerman, who also is Jewish and was raised in Beverly Hills, remain empathetic to the dean character, while acknowledging the systemic if subtle form of anti-Semitism he embodies.
For Lerman, Caudwell’s version of anti-Semitism doesn’t crudely exhibit “hostility or ill intentions,” but rather “a sincere prejudice.”
“Caudwell doesn’t get up in the morning and say ‘how can I hurt the Jews?’” Schamus says. “He thinks he’s doing a good thing – ‘we’ll expose them to the Christian part of the Judeo-Christian tradition and it’ll be good for everybody. It’s a great country and we can accommodate these people as long as they toe the line.’”
Schamus says he was drawn to Roth’s novel by the appeal of the characters, including Caudwell. That is not to say that Schamus condones Caudwell’s subtle version of anti-Semitism, but places it in the context of a complex of qualities demanding more nuanced assessment. For Schamus, Caudwell responds warmly and enthusiastically to Marcus “knowing that this is the smartest kid who’s walked in there in a long time,” yet still can’t keep himself from pursuing an insinuating cross-examination of him.
In his explicitly autobiographical 1988 work “The Facts,” Roth recalled how his time at Bucknell constrained both his Jewish identity and artistic sensibility. In his student writing he set out to prove “that I was a nice boy, period,” he wrote. “The Jew was nowhere to be seen; there were no Jews in the stories, no Newark, and not a sign of comedy. … I wanted to demonstrate that I was ‘compassionate,’ a totally harmless person.”
In portraying Marcus, Lerman echoes the spirit of the young, decent, inhibited author ready to ripen into the funny, indecent, vivid one.
“To a certain extent, I know Marcus Messner very well,” Schamus observed. “There’s a little of him in me. There’s a little of him in any good Jewish boy who went on to try to do well in school.”
Schamus says that among those expressing the strongest appreciation of the film are young people of color who relate to its portrayal of the subtleties of prejudice. And, while many barriers have been removed, minority students at colleges and universities continue to identify its effects.
In somewhat idiosyncratic cinematic terms, the film distills Roth’s view of how justifiable fury sprouts, how that sense of indignation can simmer over time and how it can eventually boil over.
Israeli director and writer Shemi Zarhin likes to explore family relationships and dynamics in his films, and in his latest work, “The Kind Words,” he immerses himself in the topic to a point that might challenge Sigmund Freud.
The focal point of the film’s web of relationships consists of three siblings, between 30 and 40 and residing in Jerusalem.
The oldest is Netanel, who has become ultra-Orthodox primarily to please his devout wife, while the younger brother, Shai, has come out as gay, to the dismay of Netanel.
In the middle, with the most problems and screen time, is Dorona, who has suffered the latest in a series of miscarriages as the film opens, and takes her frustration out on her handsome and devoted husband, Ricky.
The siblings’ father has deserted his wife and family after 30 years of marriage to wed a younger woman, and the abandoned mother’s long undiagnosed cancer leads to her death.
When the father’s new wife expresses her wish to have children, he visits a doctor, who finds his patient’s sperm count too low to impregnate any woman, present or past.
The diagnosis leaves the siblings with the unnerving question as to the identity of their biological father, or, as one of them puts it, “I’m an orphan; I don’t want to be a bastard, too.”
One clue to the puzzle is that their Algerian-born mother left for trips to Paris, supposedly to visit her sister, exactly nine months before the birth of each of the three siblings.
With their mother dead, Dorona persuades her two brothers to track down their mother’s liaison, heading first for Paris to interrogate their aunt, their mother’s sister.
From there, the trail leads to Marseilles and to the apartment of Maurice, also born in Algeria and apparently the dead mother’s longtime lover, with roots as an Arab Muslim.
As the siblings importune Maurice to answer their urgent questions, he declines any answers. In desperation, and in search of her new self-identity, Dorona sneaks back into Maurice’s apartment while he’s away, and finds a possible clue to the relationship between Maurice and her mother.
The cast of “The Kind Words” is impressive, starting with Rotem Zissman-Cohen as the conflicted Dorona, and joined in supporting roles by two of Israel’s finest veteran thespians, Levana Finkelstein as the mother and Sasson Gabai as her runaway husband.
Zarhin is held in considerable esteem in Israel and abroad as director of six feature films, numerous TV episodes and the author of one novel.
Two of his earlier films, “Aviva, My Love” and “Bonjour, Monsieur Shlomo,” also focused on family ties and were warmly praised by the Journal at the time of their release and after lengthy conversations with Zarhin.
This time, the interview was a bit more difficult, and not only because the Skype connection between interviewer and interviewee worked poorly.
It was obvious that Zarhin had invested a lot of thought and emotion in his “Kind Words” characters and was impatient with “simplistic” questions about the plot, or whether his own descent from long-ago immigrants from North Africa and Europe influenced the delineation of his main characters.
However, in his “Director’s Notes” for the film, he explained his approach, as a director and as a human being, to his film’s characters, and his words are worth quoting to understand his intentions.
“I love stories where life is lived ‘on the edge,’ ” he writes. “I love reality’s ability to surprise until life often seems like an unrealistic movie, and reality itself acts like a wonderland. I especially love the protagonists’ amazed, stunned expressions every time they are faced with a new, extreme turn of the plot.
“These expressions reveal the exaggerated, childish confidence they have in their day-to-day routines, as well as their distress in the face of any change or discovery. It makes me laugh, it makes me sad, and mainly it makes me love them very much.
“But it also makes me worries. What will happen when they find out that the truth they are looking for is a pile of lies and prejudices? What will be their fate when they discover there is no consolation in the facts of the past, which only imprison the present and enslave the future? And love, even though it exists and is deep, is not always enough? And whether eventually they will realize that their lives and their identities depend solely on their desire?
“A strange thing happened to me: the production of ‘The Kind Words’ is long over and I find that I am still worried about the characters who have become my immediate family. Maybe it expresses concern that I have for my kids, myself, and for the place where I live.”
“The Kind Words” opens July 1 at Laemmle’s Royal Theatre in West Los Angeles and at the Town Center in Encino.
The emotionally unacceptable Israeli-Turkish agreement
Drug abuse, shame and the Holocaust figure in film about family of notorious Dutch lawyers
by Cnaan Liphshiz, JTA | PUBLISHED Jun 21, 2016 | Culture
In a country where 75 percent of Jews were murdered in the Holocaust, the Moszkowicz family of lawyers stood out as a unique Jewish success story.
Descended from Max Moszkowicz, a steel-willed Auschwitz survivor who became Holland’s first modern celebrity attorney, his four lawyer sons took the family business to new heights, turning their name into a household brand here with winning arguments in some of the country’s most famous trials.
Max Moszkowicz himself in 1987 obtained a mere four-year sentence for the kidnappers of the beverage mogul Freddy Heineken. His second son, Robert, in 1976 became Holland’s youngest person to pass the bar exam at 23 (he was a millionaire by 29). Another son, Bram, kept making international headlines – including through the 2010 acquittal of the anti-Islam politician Geert Wilders of hate speech charges.
The Moszkowiczes were widely recognized as legal geniuses in the media and at events held in their honor.
But over the past decade, they have fallen from grace. Three of Max Moszkowicz’s sons were disbarred for improprieties, starting in 2005 with Robert — a former heroin addict and flamboyant womanizer who was accused of cheating his clients — and ending in March with the oldest brother, David.
This month, the Moszkowiczes are again making headlines in Holland because of “We Moszkowicz,” the first revealing documentary film about the remarkable family. Made by the first-born son of Robert Moszkowicz, the television production retraces the Holocaust’s deep effects on three generations that for many represent Dutch Jewry’s struggle to return to normalcy after the trauma of the genocide.
Combining footage from Amsterdam, Jerusalem and Auschwitz, the critically acclaimed work by Max Moszkowicz — a 37-year-old filmmaker who is named for his 89-year-old grandfather — offers an unprecedented insight into the rise and fall of a now notorious family.
The filmmaker describes to his father his own panic as a child at seeing Robert – then still a celebrated and practicing lawyer — collapse into a drug-induced stupor at his mansion near Maastricht. Heroin was in plain sight at the father’s Amsterdam apartment, the filmmaker recalls. Robert told him as a child that the beige powder and tin foil were for making special flu medicine.
Standing opposite his father, Max Moszkowicz confronts him over his shame at elementary school following Robert’s publicized arrest. Over the space of six years, the filmmaker followed his father around, assembling the portrait of a vain, sometimes selfish and ultimately unrepentant man who never apologized for actions that apparently have scarred several of his nine children, whom he had with four women.
But “We Moszkowicz” is no damning indictment, filmmaker Max Moszkowicz told JTA in an interview last week about his film, which the Volkskrant daily described as “confrontational, moving and often painful.”
Rather it’s a story about three generations of a troubled but loving family, and an attempt to examine their dysfunctions in light of secondhand emotional damage in siblings attempting to live up to their fathers’ ideals and legacy. The film reveals that the patriarch, determined to rebuild the Jewish family destroyed by the Nazis, disowned Robert because he married a non-Jewish wife — the filmmaker’s mother.
The rejection was so absolute that in 1993, the elder Max Moszkowicz and three of his sons appeared as a family on a television talk show without ever mentioning Robert.
“Four musketeers,” Bram Moszkowicz told the host in describing his family on the show. “One for all, all for one.”
David concurred, saying with a grin: “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Filmmaker Max Moszkowicz said the images, which he saw at 14, “cut like a knife.”
“I wanted to understand what my father had done to be cut from the family as though he never existed,” he said.
Ostracized by his kin, Robert Moszkowicz, a handsome fast talker who enjoyed Italian designer suits and expensive cars — though he struggles with debts, he still owns a late model Jaguar — was driven over the edge following the death of his third child. Jair lived less than one year. Robert had him with his second wife, a heroin addict who kept injecting throughout her pregnancy.
Robert Moszkowicz in Amsterdam in 2015. Photo from Max Moszkowicz
Following his first arrest in the 1990s for drug dealing, Robert received a visit in jail from his father, who despite their harsh disagreements took on his son’s legal case because not doing so “would’ve meant losing my son forever,” as the patriarch said during a television interview.
During the charged jailhouse meeting, the father told his wayward son that the facility reminded him of the concentration camp.
“That’s what I want to experience,” Robert replied in what he explained in the film as “a typical desire to feel what my father felt” in the Holocaust.
It’s a key moment in the documentary for understanding the Moszkowiczes’ self-destructive streak, the best-selling Dutch Jewish author Leon de Winter told JTA.
“It’s no coincidence that three sons of this amazing family were disbarred,” de Winter said.
Bram Moszkowicz’s disbarment for mismanagement of funds was “disproportionate,” de Winter said, noting that it ultimately came from legal transgressions motivated by an insatiable drive to please the family patriarch, who lost his parents and two siblings as a teenager in the Holocaust.
Max Moszkowicz, right, with Bram Moszkowicz in Amsterdam in 1987. Photo from Wikimedia Commons
The patriarch Max “raised his boys to be invincible,” de Winter said. “And they, in their desperate love and dedication to him, felt the only way to get close and equal to him was to follow him into hell.”
And though they built an empire, the Moszkowiczes always remained outsiders in the Netherlands post-Holocaust, separated from the intellectual elites they frequented by their own traumas and weaknesses for flashy cars and expensive clothes.
“It’s as though they overcompensated in a delayed and tragic effect of the hell that Max Moszkowicz went through in Auschwitz,” de Winter said of the family.
For all its tragic retrospection, “We Moszkowicz” also offers a sense of hope and redemption.
The filmmaker and his father are close, their bond cemented on a two-week trip they made to Israel in 2014. In one of the film’s most moving scenes, Robert Moszkowicz, who is somewhat Jewishly observant and recites his prayers in Hebrew, is overcome with emotion at the Western Wall and is hugged by his son as he cries against the ancient stones.
Robert is also a devoted father to his youngest children with his fourth wife. Opening up in this unprecedented manner to his son’s camera, the filmmaker said, “is his way of making up for mistakes.”
It was with an eye to the future that the younger Max Moszkowicz began making the film in the first place, he said, not wanting to repeat his father’s mistakes with his own first son, Ilai, who was born last year.
“Six years ago, I came drunk to a house party with a bloody mouth that I got from falling down en route,” the filmmaker recalled. “I had an alcohol and drug problem. I saw my bloodied reflection in a mirror at the party and I could see my father’s self-destructive pattern.”
That evening, filmmaker Max Moszkowicz decided to take a hard look at his life that resulted in the film.
“I feel I treated my demons,” he said. “I can move on with my life.”
This summer brings an eclectic group of films to local screens, many featuring specifically Jewish protagonists and covering such disparate subjects as a fundamentalist revolution, a revolutionary TV programmer, the hunt for Adolf Eichmann, religiosity and coming of age in the 1950s.
“Septembers of Shiraz”
Australian director Wayne Blair explores the devastating effect of the Iranian revolution on a secular Jewish family during the early 1980s in “Septembers of Shiraz,” adapted from the award-winning book of the same title by Dalia Sofer. As the film depicts, after the Shah was overthrown in 1979, the rage and resentment of the Iranian underclass was directed against the wealthy, the Jews, the intellectuals and anyone who had been in any way connected to the Shah’s family. When the mob and the Ayatollah Khomeini took power, Islamic fundamentalism became the law of the land, and with it came repression, torture, executions and capricious arrests. Those who felt persecuted under the Shah had now taken power, and started to mimic and even surpass the tyranny of their predecessor.
Academy Award-winning actor Adrien Brody (“The Pianist”) stars as Isaac Amin, a prosperous gemologist and jewelry merchant who is arrested without warning on vague charges of spying for Israel. While in prison, he is physically and emotionally tortured, and it becomes obvious that his interrogator, who himself had been tortured when the Shah held power, is envious of Isaac’s privileged life and enraged that Isaac accepted the social and political structure of the previous regime.
Meanwhile, Isaac’s wife, Farnez (Salma Hayek), a strong, assertive woman, tries in vain to get him released as she watches her entire life disintegrate. Her house is stripped of valuables, employees of her husband start stealing the jewels from his business, and she is powerless to stop what is happening. Among the thieves is the son of her housekeeper, Habibeh (Shohreh Aghdashloo), a Muslim woman who is loyal to the family but starts to believe some of the charges made by the revolutionaries against the former elites.
After turning over his life’s savings, Isaac is released, but he and his family must flee the country, leaving behind everything they still possess, if they are to have any hope of survival.
Blair said one reason he was drawn to the story was that, at its core, it deals with the importance of family. “Family is close to my heart. [During] my own upbringing, I traveled a great deal with my immediate family, as my father was in the military. When he retired and we settled in our hometown, I was around my mother and father’s extended family even more. That meant the world to me.”
And, producer Alan Siegel predicted, “Audiences will sit at the edge of their seats. It’s a thrilling roller-coaster ride that also has a deep meaning for today.”
“Septembers of Shiraz” opens June 24.
“Tikkun” explores issues of determinism, Orthodoxy and sexual repression. According to Israeli filmmaker Avishai Sivan, who is quoted in the media notes, the word “tikkun” means “improvement” in everyday Hebrew, but on a deeper level, “tikkun” has a more metaphysical meaning. Sivan says belief in reincarnation can be found in Judaism, and the term “refers to a soul returning to the living world in order to rectify an unresolved issue from its past life.”
The film takes place in the Mea Shearim neighborhood of Jerusalem, and it focuses on Haim-Aaron (Aharon Traitel), a brilliant yeshiva student who is so devout that he fasts to repent for dropping his prayer boxes. One night, the sexually repressed young man is tempted to masturbate in the bathtub when he collapses, hitting his head against the back of the tub. The paramedics can’t revive him and pronounce him dead, but his father (Khalifa Natour) frantically tries to resuscitate him, and, mysteriously, Haim-Aaron comes back to life. However, he is completely changed. Unable to sleep at night, he takes to wandering the streets and falling asleep during the day in yeshiva class. He begins to tentatively explore the secular world and even accompanies an acquaintance to a brothel, though he can’t bring himself to have sex with the prostitute whom he has just paid. He also announces that he will no longer eat meat, an insult to his father, who is a kosher butcher in a slaughterhouse.
Shot in black-and-white, the movie begins to verge on the surreal as the father comes to fear he has thwarted destiny by reviving his son.
“Tikkun” is tentatively scheduled to open in Los Angeles June 17.
“Norman Lear: Just Another Version of You”
Logan Lerman and Sarah Gadon in “Indignation”
Another Jewish boy from the East is the central character in “Indignation,” based on Philip Roth’s 2008 semi-autobiographical novel of the same title. The movie depicts college life in the 1950s and centers on Marcus Messner (Logan Lerman), son of a kosher butcher shop owner in Newark, N.J. Marcus escapes the Korean War draft by means of a scholarship courtesy of his synagogue to Winesburg College, a small school in Ohio.
While Marcus is happy to be free from his smothering father, he is uninterested in college social life or in forming close friendships, preferring to focus on his studies. However, the independent-minded Marcus encounters some new, unexpected experiences, including anti-Semitism and an infuriating requirement to attend weekly chapel. He also experiences his first sexual encounter, along with his first love.
Writer, producer and film company executive James Schamus (he earned an Oscar nomination for “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”) makes his directorial debut with this film. Schamus is quoted in the production notes as saying, “It was a real limbo time after World War II. The sexual revolution was yet to come, anti-communism and the Blacklist were in the news, and teenage culture, as we know it, was just around the corner. Meanwhile there’s another massive war going overseas. Our characters are really struggling to find themselves in that landscape.”
Variety’s chief international film critic, Peter Debruge, praised the movie, writing in his review at Sundance earlier this year, “ ‘Indignation’ unfolds at a certain distance, both in maturity and time: Schamus may not have lived the era, the way Roth did, but he channels the ’50s still-conservative mentality convincingly enough, hitting the novel’s tragic final note ever so delicately, devastating those drawn in by Marcus and his dreams.”
Roth, who attended the premiere of “Indignation” at Sundance, called it “the most faithful adaptation” of one of his works he’s seen.
“Indignation” opens July 29.
“The Tenth Man”
“The Tenth Man,” directed by Daniel Burman, tells the story of a man’s return to his observant Jewish roots. Ariel (Alan Sabbagh) has been living in New York and enjoying a successful career as an economist but has distanced himself from his background. He returns to the Jewish section of Buenos Aires, Argentina, known as El Once, where he was raised, in part to introduce his father, Usher (played by himself), and the rest of his family, to his fiancée, a dancer who is supposed to follow him to Buenos Aires after she completes an audition.
During his visit, Ariel gets pulled into helping at his father’s market and performing certain duties for his father’s charitable Jewish foundation. While Ariel keeps trying to meet with him, Usher remains elusive and constantly involved in aid projects. The situation brings back Ariel’s feelings of being neglected as a child when his father attended to his charitable activities.
While Ariel remembers wanting more of his father’s attention when he was a child, Ariel also finds himself brought back emotionally to the way of life of his formative years.
As Ariel draws closer to his heritage and to the community he left behind, he also draws closer to Eva (Julieta Zylberberg), an Orthodox, silent and beguiling woman who works for Usher’s foundation.
Burman explains in the media notes how he and Usher, a real person heading a real foundation, met for the first time. The two were on a pilgrimage to visit the graves of Sadikin, Jewish mystics of the 17th and 18th centuries who, according to legend, had a direct connection to God. Burman says there was something about Usher that he found fascinating.
“This feeling only grew when I learned more about his kingdom, his army of volunteers, that mysterious world of people giving without a special satisfaction beyond something provided by the fact of doing what needs to be done, as part of a particular logic of aid. In the foundation, the others who are being helped are not an undifferentiated mass that needs just anything. The help there is about the uniqueness of each individual. In order to give somebody exactly what he needs, there has to be an intention to understand why he needs this and nothing else. That world captivated me.”
“The Tenth Man” opens in August, exact release date TBA.
“The People vs. Fritz Bauer“
Burghart Klauner in “The People vs. Fritz Bauer”
Argentina is also a major element in “The People vs. Fritz Bauer,” a docudrama about German-Jewish prosecutor Fritz Bauer (Burghart Klauner), who is credited with locating Adolf Eichmann, the SS officer in charge of arranging the deportation of vast numbers of Jews to death camps before he became a fugitive after the war.
The film opens in 1957, when Bauer has returned to Germany from Denmark and Sweden after World War II and makes it his mission to expose and prosecute former Nazi officials, many of whom are now prospering in business or holding positions in the German government. But members of the current government block Bauer’s efforts at every turn, either because they don’t want their past Nazi activities exposed or don’t want to relive Germany’s crimes.
One day, Bauer receives a letter from Argentina written by the father of a girl who is dating Eichmann’s son. The letter reveals that Eichmann is living incognito in Buenos Aires.
Bauer is passionately anxious to have Eichmann extradited and put on trial in Germany, but his goals are again thwarted by German authorities who are former National Socialists. So Bauer is forced to enlist the aid of the Israeli Mossad, an act tantamount to treason and punishable by imprisonment.
After verifying Eichmann’s identity, the Mossad does capture him, but Bauer’s desire to have him tried in Germany is overridden by those at the highest levels of government in Israel, the United States and Germany, so Eichmann is prosecuted and hanged in Israel.
It was only after Bauer’s death in 1968 that his part in finding Eichmann was revealed.
“The People vs. Fritz Bauer” opens Aug. 19.
Also of interest:
“Agnus Dei” (The Innocents) is a French-Polish movie directed by Anne Fontaine (“How I Killed My Father”) that tells the almost-unknown story of Madeleine Pauliac, a French doctor who took care of concentration camp survivors in Warsaw right after World War II. When a nun shows up to her clinic and begs for her help at a convent, Pauliac discovers several pregnant nuns, one of whom is about to give birth. A nonbeliever herself, Pauliac finds the nuns becoming more and more dependent on her in the tragic aftermath of war. Opens July 1.
“The Kind Words” is an Israeli film about a woman and her two brothers who get a shock after their mother dies and they learn that she had been having a long-term affair with an Algerian. Fearing their real father may have been a Muslim, the three travel from Israel to Paris and Marseilles to seek out the truth. Opens July 1.
“Life, Animated” is a documentary about Owen Suskind, an autistic boy who never spoke until he learned to engage with the world by continually watching Disney films, such as “The Lion King.” The films inspired him to empathize and identify with characters outside of himself. Opens July 8.
“Café Society,” Woody Allen’s latest romantic comedy, is about a young man from the Bronx who tries to succeed in the glamorous world of Hollywood during the 1930s. Opens July 15.
Sanctified Vestments, Secular Outfits – Holy Dressing for a Sacred Purpose
Elder statesman of Palestinian film directs true story of Gaza’s ‘Arab Idol’
Hany Abu-Assad was cheering in a crowded square in his hometown of Nazareth, Israel, when Mohammad Assaf — a youth from the southern Gaza Strip — earned overnight stardom by winning “Arab Idol,” the region-wide televised singing contest.
In fact, if you watch “The Idol,” Abu-Assad’s newest film, you can just barely see the director in a split second of news footage shown in the film’s final montage, amid the throngs that gathered across the Palestinian world to watch Assaf win.
When Abu-Assad learned this reporter hadn’t heard Assaf’s story before seeing the docudrama, he was perplexed that the singer’s sudden mega-celebrity hadn’t penetrated Western and Jewish circles.
The 23-year-old won the competition in 2013 and was appointed a United Nations youth ambassador on the spot.
“CNN, BBC, everywhere,” Abu-Assad, 54, said of the young man’s fame, speaking in animated English with an Arabic accent. “It was so huge — why Israelis, just so close, why don’t they want to see this story?”
During an interview in Los Angeles last week with the Jewish Journal, the de facto elder statesman of Palestinian film sat back on a couch, eight stories up inside an art-deco tower on Wilshire Boulevard. Abu-Assad likes L.A. — “there’s space, there’s ocean” — even though he considers it among the “ugliest cities in the world, as buildings, as architecture.”
Asked where he lives these days, he said, “Officially in Nazareth, but practically in my suitcase.”
The filmmaker is touring with his newest film. He started the year in Nazareth, before flying to the Netherlands, where earlier in life he lived for 25 years and worked as an airplane engineer, then to London, Los Angeles, Minneapolis, New York and back to L.A.
The film opens in six theaters across Southern California on May 27, including venues in Beverly Hills, Irvine and Palm Springs.
Drawing on the limited pool of Palestinian actors, “The Idol” portrays Assaf’s childhood as a would-be musician in the Khan Yunis refugee camp before flashing forward seven years to show his unlikely flight from Gaza to Cairo, where auditions for the television show were held.
It tells a heartbreakingly sad story of how cramped life in Southern Gaza intrudes on Assaf’s dreams, as well as those of his sister, Nour. Circumstances far outside Assaf’s control continually conspire against the singer.
The movie is also highly acclaimed, as is Abu-Assad’s previous work. Two previous films by Abu-Assad have been entered as Palestinian submissions for Academy Award consideration as best foreign-language film — once in 2005 on behalf of the Palestinian Territories and again in 2013 for Palestine — and both films received the nomination, though neither won the award. He is the only Palestinian filmmaker ever to claim that honor.
The filmmaker understands his celebrity, along with Assaf’s, is one answer to a concerted effort to discredit and erase the Palestinian identity.
“By just saying you are still Palestinian after 60 years of [Israel] trying very hard to vanish the word Palestinian, already you are political, even if you do just music,” he said.
Assaf can be explicitly political; The New York Times reported that his winning number, “Raise the Keffiyeh,” was a favorite of Fatah leader Yasser Arafat and thus something of a black eye for Hamas, the faction that rules Gaza.
Abu-Assad, though, described his upcoming film as “post Israel” — a designation he bases on his belief that the Jewish state is a failed experiment headed for the dustbin of history.
“The situation as it is now, I think it’s impossible to keep a Jewish state in that region,” he said. “You can [keep it] maybe another five years, 10 years, 50 years — it’s impossible to keep it for an unlimited time.”
He said he would be a proponent of a two-state solution, if he thought it was workable.
“Some people were born in the settlements,” he said. “You want to throw them out? Are you kidding me?”
Abu-Assad’s forecast for the land, if somewhat apocalyptic, is little more than his worst-case extrapolation of the situation there since 2005, the year the story of “The Idol” begins.
He had to work directly with the Israel Defense Forces to coordinate his two trips to Gaza for the film. The first time his production manager called the military to arrange entry into the militarized enclave, he said they told her, “What are you talking about, you want to shoot a movie in Gaza? Are you crazy?”
The production manager persisted. (“She’s a very tough woman,” the director said.) Eventually, she succeeded and he managed to gain entry — two days for research and another two for filming, restricted to a small crew. The balance of the movie was filmed in the Jenin refugee camp in the West Bank.
“I was amazed that people from Gaza did not lose their humanity,” he said of his research trip there in 2014. “Because you expect with this siege and destruction, you expect people will be angry, people will be like what you see in the media. They were so humble, human, sharing the little food they have with you, sharing their story, sharing their laughs, sharing their singing.”
For the most part, he said, the story hews to the facts of Assaf’s meteoric rise. Small details have been altered; his sister, Nour, plays guitar in the film rather than keyboard, as in real life, because “guitar is more, you know, it’s sexier,” Abu-Assad said.
When he showed the film to Assaf, the pop star called it 80 percent fact, 20 percent fiction, “but the 20 percent fiction makes [him] realize the importance of the 80 percent. He realized, ‘It’s not what I did, but this is what I felt,’ ” Abu-Assad said.
Though the protagonist is Gazan, Israel is not explicitly cast as the antagonist. When Assaf is nearly apprehended at the border, the troops trying to stand in his way are Hamas Black Shirts, not Israeli soldiers.
Abu-Assad’s other films have taken a more confrontational approach in their portrayal of the Jewish state.
In “Omar,” the 2013 Oscar nominee, the title character is coerced into cooperating with IDF military police. “Paradise Now,” the 2005 Oscar nominee and a Golden Globe winner, tracks two would-be suicide bombers planning an attack on Tel Aviv. Abu-Assad gets screenwriting credits for all three films; for “The Idol,” he said he did a “complete rewrite” of an earlier script.
“The movie is actually not about Israel at all,” he said. “It’s about people in difficult situations, yet they can create their own circumstances.”
This time, Abu-Assad set out to tell a story not directly about politics but rather the transcendence of art and the power of determination.
“What I saw from this phenomenon, Mohammad Assaf, is that you don’t need to wait for somebody to come and help you, you have to help yourself,” he said. “That was an amazing message that I just wanted to share with everybody.”
The director said he hopes members of the Israeli and Jewish communities will come see his film. Given his grim outlook on the future of the Jewish state, he believes they would benefit in particular from the movie’s hopeful message.
“Israelis need more hope than Palestinians,” he said. “Really, I truly think Israelis almost totally lost their hope. They are acting as if there is a lot of frustration.”
However, he has no aspersions about how his film will go over with some elements in the Jewish world.
“If you want my honest opinion, this movie is a nightmare for anybody who will think that they can erase the Palestinian as an identity,” he said.
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Hope and romance bloom in the desert in ‘Wedding Doll’
The title “Wedding Doll” may lead the unwary film fan to anticipate a risqué musical comedy, but this Israeli movie is actually something much deeper.
Set in a small, rather forlorn town in Israel’s Negev desert, the film revolves around a young woman left with a fairly mild mental handicap by a childhood brain injury.
At 24, Hagit (Moran Rosenblatt) is lovely to look at, with a smile that lights up not just a room but the brooding desert outside. She works, apparently contentedly, in a small factory, doing the rather unglamorous but necessary job of cutting and packaging rolls of toilet paper.
After work, she takes the leftovers from her day’s labor and fashions little dolls, invariably outfitted in wedding gowns. It doesn’t take a psychologist to deduce that the dolls express Hagit’s own yearnings, specifically her fervent hope to someday marry the factory owner’s handsome son, Omri (Roy Assaf).
Reality is somewhat different. Hagit lives with her mother, Sarah, who is divorced and works as a chambermaid at a local hotel. Sarah’s main focus is to protect her daughter at all costs — from the neighborhood kids’ taunts of “weirdo” to any attempt of independence by Hagit.
But occasionally, Hagit escapes the surveillance to spend long, largely silent evenings with Omri at the top of a hill overlooking the Negev, which takes on a beauty of its own at night.
Omri is a decent sort and is genuinely fond of Hagit, but he is afraid to let anyone, not least his family, know of a possible liaison with her.
But nothing can squelch Hagit’s hopes, and she fashions a wedding dress of her own, whose striking feature is a hoop skirt decorated entirely with actual toilet rolls.
“Wedding Doll” is the first feature by the film’s director, producer and scriptwriter, Nitzan Gilady, 46, who previously made four documentaries that have won 13 international awards.
Gilady knows something about what it means to be an outsider. The son of immigrants from Yemen, he was born in Beersheba, in the northern Negev, and was taunted by classmates in first grade, more for pronouncing certain Hebrew words with his parental accent than for his dark skin.
He also came out early as gay, and has a younger brother who returned from war with post-traumatic stress disorder and was thereafter fiercely overprotected by their father.
In a phone call from Paris, Gilady described his early ambition to become an actor and to study at New York’s Circle in the Square Theatre.
“My ambition was to become a Robert De Niro or a classical Shakespearean actor, but because of my appearance I was always cast as a terrorist,” Gilady said. So he decided to become a director. Unable to afford a university education, he bought a video camera and started to “direct” an actress friend.
For the setting of “Wedding Doll,” Gilady returned to the isolated Negev town of Mitzpe Ramon, where he spent part of his army service.
In casting the key role of Hagit, Gilady interviewed more than 40 aspirants and was still searching when he recalled a young Israeli actress, Rosenblatt, whom he had seen in one of her earlier movies. Once picked for the role, Rosenblatt put in a rigorous four months with the director before shooting began.
“We worked on my voice, my walk and my smile,” she recalled in a phone interview. As Hagit, “The smile is more than my own; it comes from the inside and tries to say, ‘I’m a good person, I’m a nice person.’ ”
Rosenblatt’s smile — and performance — earned her a best actress Ophir, Israel’s equivalent of the Oscar. The film had nine nominations in all.
Not content just with acting, the 30-year-old descendant of immigrants from Iran, Poland and Belgium is looking for additional artistic outlets. Rosenblatt is studying screenwriting and directing at the Sam Spiegel Film and Television School in Jerusalem but hasn’t decided on her ultimate career. However, she said, “It will have to be one of the three fields.”
Gilady faced no indecision in casting the role of Sarah, Hagit’s mother, after Asi Levi, one of Israel’s foremost actresses, agreed to take the part.
“Wedding Doll” opens April 15 at Laemmle’s Music Hall in Beverly Hills and Town Center in Encino.
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In “Remember” a common enemy unites two survivors in a deadly mission
Action heroes in Hollywood movies are generally handsome, virile studs, handy with a gun or a girl, preferably both.
However, in “Remember,” the two principals, Zev and Max, are both 90-year-old Holocaust survivors, passing their not-so-golden years in an assisted living facility.
Max (Martin Landau) is wheelchair-bound but with sharp mind, while Zev (Christopher Plummer), though ambulatory, slips in and out of dementia and borderline Alzheimer’s. The two are bound by a common tragedy. Both of their families were murdered in Auschwitz by the same SS guard.
Now, some 70 years later, Max has discovered that the murderous guard escaped to America after the war and assumed the name of Rudy Kurlander. To complicate matters, Max has been informed by the Simon Wiesenthal Center (nice plug) that there are four men by that name living in the United States and Canada.
During a long session at the retirement home, Max hands Zev an envelope full of addresses, instructions and $100 bills, and tasks him to find each of the Kurlanders, and, when he finds the ex-SS guard, to kill him.
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A movie based on the biblical story of Moses is expected to become the most-watched Brazilian film in the country’s history.
Pre-sales alone for “Os Dez Mandamentos,” a literal translation to Portuguese of “The Ten Commandments,” have reached 2.4 million tickets, which is much more than most Brazilian blockbusters after several weeks of screening. The film, which opens Thursday in Brazil, is expected to outnumber “Elite Troop 2,” the 2010 blockbuster that had 11 million viewers.
The nearly two-hour epic brings to the big screen a summary of the successful prime-time TV soap opera of the same name that aired in 2015. Set in ancient Egypt and loosely based on the story of Moses, “Os Dez Mandamentos” features characters based on biblical figures, while others are created.
Brazil’s second most-watched TV channel, Record, produced the film and soap opera. The channel is owned by the founder of one of Brazil’s main Pentecostal churches, the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God.
Pastors reportedly have been encouraging their congregants to see the film. The soap opera drew 144 million spectators daily in Brazil, which has the largest Catholic population in the world
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Christmas may be the genre and red-and-green backdrop of “The Night Before” (in theaters Nov. 20), but at the film’s heart is the landscape of friendship as it begins to shift when people hit their 30s.
Friends since childhood, Ethan (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), Isaac (Seth Rogen) and Chris (Anthony Mackie) have reunited every Christmas Eve for a night of revelry since Ethan lost his parents in a car accident and Isaac and Chris decided they would be his family. Ten years later, Isaac is on the brink of fatherhood, Chris is busy being a professional athlete, and Ethan is getting over a breakup. Understanding that this year will be their last Christmas hurrah before everything changes, the three set out on a quest to find a secret, exclusive Christmas party called the Nutcracka Ball.
Director Jonathan Levine, who co-wrote the film with regular collaborators Kyle Hunter and Ariel Shaffir, and frequent Rogen co-writer Evan Goldberg (“Superbad”), admitted that the tone is a shift from his previous films, which included “50/50,” about a young man who has cancer, and “Warm Bodies,” a zombie romance film.
“Our No. 1 objective was to make people laugh and smile,” Levine told the Journal at the media junket for the film at the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. “In ‘50/50,’ there was lots of funny stuff, but it was serious. ‘The Night Before’ was born out of the desire to just make people happy, to shed the complicated tone.”
The director noted that the film isn’t all raucous fun. “It has some drama too, because that’s just part of my personality; I can’t get away from that. And Christmas movies always have a lot of heart.”
Growing up in New York City, Levine annually celebrated both Chanukah and Christmas, surmising that it was because his mom “spoiled us” and would make “any excuse to give us presents,” he said. He was “always into Christmas movies,” including “How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” “Home Alone” and, especially, “It’s a Wonderful Life” (elements of these films are invoked directly and indirectly in “The Night Before”).
He described his attraction toward the holiday spirit of Christmas in a secular way — he liked the music, the spirit of being nice to people, and being kind to fellow humans. The Jewish character played by Rogen, he said, is “another Jew who’s really into Christmas like I am.”
Still, the perspective of a Jew on Christmas is that of an outsider, which Levine called “a fertile ground for comedy. The movie has no provocative stance on religion; it takes the spirit of Christmas and the values it represents” — he points out time spent with family and friends, as well as kindness and peace on Earth — “and makes it for everyone.”
The concept of friends as family, reflected in the film through Ethan and his buddies, is a reflection of the friends-as-family who made the film. Levine and many of the writers and actors involved have worked together before and are slated for future collaborations. For example, “50/50” featured Rogen and Gordon-Levitt as actors and Shaffir and Hunter as associate producers. Levine said working with his “movie family” again felt like a reunion, and “makes you feel safe and take risks, and I can’t speak enough about how important it is. … [They] keep you honest creatively, empower you.”
Although the film is heavy on the bromance among the three lead actors, it’s not a total boys’ club: Strong comedic actors such as Lizzy Caplan, Mindy Kaling, Ilana Glazer and Jillian Bell play key roles.
“The great thing about Seth and Evan’s work is that even though there’s a lot of sex humor, it’s incredibly respectful of women and gives them a chance to shine even though it’s not told from their point of view,” Levine said, identifying Rose Byrne (“Neighbors”), Katherine Heigl (“Knocked Up”), Emma Stone (“Superbad”) and Anna Kendrick (“50/50”) as examples. “We allowed women to come in and make these roles their own. But we owe a great debt of gratitude to all of them, because they make us look better by making their roles better.”
But in “The Night Before,” it is Michael Shannon (previously best known for his intense role on “Boardwalk Empire”) as Mr. Green — the leading trio’s pothead high-school teacher who is now a pot dealer — who gives the story some dramatic, sinister and slightly magical or spiritual heft. Levine said it was always his intent to have a magical element to the film, but that the character “evolved through several drafts” as he worked through the balance between magic and realism.
“[Shannon] was in mind early on and we were pretty excited about it. We knew that the juxtaposition of his on-screen persona with this character would work, but he took it to a whole other level.”
Shannon made up a lot of the lines himself, Levine said, and “just got that it needed to be weird. He’s got a great comedic instinct.”
Levine has been honing his cinematic instincts since he was 12, making short movies with his friends, doing their own versions of “Saturday Night Live” sketches, and tying a bagel to a string and dangling it out a sixth floor window, filming the people who reached up to grab it from the air.
“It’s nice to know what you always wanted to do,” he said. “Everyone else was trying to figure it out. But I never really questioned it at all and just kept doing it.”
“The Night Before,” geared toward 20- and 30-somethings and featuring abundant drug use, swearing and graphic male nudity, is certainly not for children. Those who have been through the friendship transitions of post-college real life will empathize with the relationships, if not to the particulars of the somewhat magical quest, depicted in the film.
As far Levine is concerned, he hopes that audiences “have a good time — that’s the No. 1 goal. And maybe call an old friend you haven’t talked to in a while,” he added. “I’m pretty good about keeping up with old friends, but life kind of gets in the way as you get older. Old friends are important, and I think it’s cool to remember them.”
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Examining a shared history through a festival lens
Last fall, I was invited to show my documentary “Raquel: A Marked Woman” in Eastern Europe, including Poland, Romania and Ukraine. I wondered whether the gap left by the annihilation of local Jewish communities, followed by decades of silence and secrecy behind the Iron Curtain, is the same in each country.
My documentary tells the story of a young Jewish-Polish mother, Raquel Liberman, who left Warsaw in 1922 with her two young children to follow her husband to Argentina. What happened next is an ordeal many young women suffer today. An international crime organization, made up of Jewish-Polish immigrants, entrapped and enslaved her into the sex trade. These men recruited young Jewish women from the shtetls (small Jewish villages) in Eastern Europe in the early 20th century. The organization, headquartered in Argentina, ensnared Raquel in its web and destined her to a life of suffering.
In my film, the “bad” guys are Jews. I ask audiences to move past the familiar demonization or idealization of Jews and see them as human beings with all their human foibles. This exercise is challenging for a conventional Jewish-American audience. Because these East European countries are only now beginning to reconcile their shared pre-World War II history with Jews, I was curious about their reaction.
It was a great opportunity to present subject matter that local audiences could relate to — given its historic and present-day relevance to the Eastern Europe sex trade. I realized that bringing Raquel back to her home country of Poland would also be a chance to engage with local audiences and understand the cultural and environmental landscape from which my heroine came — a culture that had been fertile ground for the Holocaust.
Before embarking on my mini-tour, I thought I would experience the consequences of the Russian propaganda machine — a generation too old or too complacent with its secrets. But the opposite seemed to be true. Most young people feel a kinship to Jews and Jewish culture. Yes, it’s now “hip” to be a Jew. This led me to ask: Is the recent resurgence of interest in Jewish culture and traditions in Eastern Europe based on curiosity or atonement?
“Raquel” was scheduled for two film festivals and two community screenings, all run by non-Jews. These audiences are trying to come to grips with their history and the reformulation of their identity. In Warsaw, a city that was leveled during the war and eerily rebuilt by the Communists, the audiences’ surprising focus was not on the “bad” Polish Jews, but on Raquel’s courageous journey from enslavement to heroine.
Krakow’s Jewish quarter of Kazimierz, an old town dating back to the 12th century, is seeing a Jewish revival of sorts. Many young Polish people are finding out that their grandparents converted to Catholicism and never spoke about their origins — either for fear of persecution or guilt by association.
This unique population was represented in the questions it raised: “Did the Catholic neighbor, who became the foster parent to Raquel’s two young boys, ever tell them that they were Jewish?” “Why did Raquel leave her children with a non-Jew?”
In Bucharest, Romania, the event planners were eager to educate Romanian non-Jews about Jewish life, culture and Israel. Why? The new generation of Romanians is completely unaware of its relationship to its Jewish past, and Israelis run many of the country’s mid-level businesses. The focus of the audience was twofold. First, was I afraid for my life in exposing this Jewish mafia? Did I have the mafia’s list of members and was I going to publish it? Second, the audience deeply identified with Raquel’s story and shared how its country is living through what was depicted in the film: girls being trafficked in and out of Romania for sex.
The final screening took place in Lviv, Ukraine. All but one of the synagogues is still standing, and years of Soviet rule obliterated the population’s enmeshed history with the Jews. In Ukraine, the truth is hard to find and its re-creation is a feeding machine of propaganda and fears. The questions that surfaced were about what happens when there’s a gap in knowledge, as in Raquel’s story. For 70 years, her children and grandchildren remained completely in the dark. How does the gap in knowledge get filled when much of the information has been buried or is dismissed? Was it possible for Raquel’s descendants to make sense of her story even if the information was buried?
At the end of my trip, both as Raquel’s storyteller and as a second-generation Holocaust survivor, I asked myself questions similar to what my audiences asked. How do you build a story when there’s a gap in history? How do you create an identity when much of your history is buried in secrecy or dismissal? In my films, I have explored the notion of active recalling, engaging and, ultimately, taking responsibility for our past. What happens when those who held the memories die off, as in the case of Raquel? Who is responsible for the telling of their story?
The new generation in these countries surprised me. What at first seemed such a peculiar reality — Eastern Europeans hungry to find their connection to Jewish history — has now made me realize that we might be struggling with a similar goal.
The journey through these lands has opened my heart to a past we share. We are forever tied to a communal history. It is no longer about victims and perpetrators. It is about our humanity. It is about a world that requires us to see beyond our fears, to question our lessons, and to open our hearts — as I know Raquel’s story has opened audiences’ hearts to the reality that too many young women are still being trafficked today.
Gabriela Bohm is a filmmaker in Los Angeles.
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