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September 22, 2005

7 Days in The Arts

Saturday, September 24

Easiest mitzvah opportunity of the week award goes to “One Night Only: A Concert for Autism Speaks” tonight at the Kodak. For the bargain price of $52 (and up), you get laughs and music care of Jerry Seinfeld and Paul Simon, respectively (or so we hope). And as you might’ve already guessed, your fun will also benefit the Autism Speaks organization, which raises funds for autism research and works to raise public awareness of the disorder.

8 p.m. $52-$502. Kodak Theatre, Highland Avenue and Hollywood Boulevard.

Sunday, September 25

Just in time for the most guilt-inducing period of the year, otherwise known as the High Holidays, comes the book that offers guidance on that most-Jewish of all emotions. "The Modern Jewish Girl’s Guide to Guilt" is on the bookshelves, but for some personal assistance, head over to Dutton’s tonight to hear contributors like the Journal’s own Amy Klein and Lori Gottlieb read from their stories. Or don’t…. It’s not like they could use the support…. And they wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble.
 
2 p.m. Dutton’s Brentwood, 11975 San Vicente Blvd. (310) 476-6263.

“Entourage” lovers get another HBO show about the industry with tonight’s debut of the UK’s “Extras.” Ricky Gervais, creator and star of another Brit hit, “The Office,” has followed up that success with this comedy, in which he stars as a 40-year-old man who quits his job to pursue acting. A host of celebs have cameos, including Kate Winslet, who in one scene admits that she’s accepted a role in a Holocaust movie so she can finally win an Oscar.

10:30 p.m. (Eastern), 1:30 a.m. (Monday, Pacific).

Monday, September 26

UCLA’s Freud Playhouse presents the musical, “Working,” a tribute to the work of everyday Americans that stars Ricki Lake, Camryn Manheim, Kathy Najimi and Steven Weber. People from parking lot attendants to corporate executives are celebrated.

8 p.m. $60. Macgowan Hall, UCLA, Westwood. (310) 825-2101.

Tuesday, September 27

Holocaust escapee and artist Eugene Berman’s figurative paintings always evoked nostalgia for the losses of history, and received a good amount of appreciation in Berman’s own time. In the face of more recent devastating events, new admirers of Berman’s works have recently emerged. An exhibition of his work, titled “High Drama: Eugene Berman and the Legacy of the Melancholic Sublime,” is now open at the Long Beach Museum of Art, with various accompanying educational programs scheduled through October.

2300 E. Ocean Blvd., Long Beach. (562) 439-2119.

Wednesday, September 28

Vladimir Levitansky clowns around for your amusement this evening. Known for his fusing of physical comedy, clowning, pantomime and poetry, the entertainer presents, “Fancy: A Clown’s Wondrous Journey Into the Absurd” through Oct. 19.

8 p.m. (Wednesdays). $18. Elephant Asylum Theatre, 6320 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 874-8216.

Thursday, September 29

It’s no-holds barred, no-limit hold ’em at Hollywood Park Casino tonight. Jewish Big Brothers Big Sisters hosts a Texas Hold ‘Em poker tournament to benefit their efforts providing mentors to L.A. Jewish kids. Reserve your spot, show up and prepare to drop some cash.

5:30-10 p.m. 3883 W. Century Blvd., Inglewood. (323) 761-8675, ext. 30.

Friday, September 30

Tobey C. Moss Gallery presents “California Gold,” a group exhibit that focuses on So Cal artists of multiple media with an emphasis on the diversity of L.A. artists. Included are works by Peter Krasnow, who “reveals a search for a ‘life force’ within the source of the wood for his sculpture and the Torah’s teachings through his paintings,” according to Moss.

7321 Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles. (323) 933-5523.

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Spectator – Lessing’s Shots of Liberty

Erich Lessing received his first camera when he exited the synagogue from his bar mitzvah in Vienna in 1936.

“There was no idea of taking up photography as a profession,” said Lessing, 82, from his house in Austria. “In a good Jewish family in Vienna you would only be a lawyer or a doctor.”

But the camera stayed with Lessing when he left Austria for Israel in 1939 to escape the Nazis. There he took photographs for the British army. When he returned to Austria in 1947, he started working as a photojournalist. His interest was the newly communist Eastern Europe, and the photographs he took in Austria and in Hungary during the Hungarian Revolution in 1956 have become Cold War icons.

For one week, starting Sept. 25, a selection of Lessing’s photographs of Austria will go on display at the Beverly Hills Country Club in conjunction with Austrian American Day. The exhibition, titled “From Liberation to Liberty” includes images famously emblematic of the period, such as “Four in a Jeep” — a photograph of four military policeman, one each from the United States, Great Britain, France and the Soviet Union, a symbol of the post-war occupation in Austria.

Lessing did not stay with this reportage: “After the Hungarian Revolution in 1956, all the photographers who had been there saw that it was not our documents that were changing political decisions. I do not want to downgrade the influence of photography — the photography at the end of the Vietnam War was very influential. But it took another 50 years for the end of communism in Europe.”

In 1960, Lessing started taking photographic “evocations” of the lives of great poets, musicians and scientists, often taking still photographs of their work in museums. The result was more than 30,000 photographs of art, history and archeology that have filled 40 books. But his seminal work remains the photographs of the 1940s and ’50s.

“I found it a very strange title, being dubbed the photographer of the Cold War,” he said. “But I think it is true.”

“From Liberation to Liberty,” will be on display at the Beverly Hills Country Club, 3084 Motor Ave., as part of the Austrian-American Day Celebration. For more information, call (310) 444-9310.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Darfur Genocide Is Still on

Jews aren’t among those being killed, raped and displaced in the Darfur region of Sudan, but the situation there is nonetheless a Jewish disaster.

The slogan, “never again,” the redeeming lesson of the Holocaust, is turning into a farce in the African nation, as world leaders continue to find a dazzling array of excuses for inaction, including the obvious one: “It’s a complicated situation,” as cases of genocide always are.

Some Jewish organizations continue to speak out, but there are indications that the issue is fading, even as the killing continues. In the Jewish community, as elsewhere, the murkiness of the conflict and the lack of ready solutions have eroded activism.

One year ago, the Bush administration courageously labeled the treatment of Darfur villagers by Arab militias — sanctioned by the government in Khartoum — as “genocide.”

But apparently applying a label was enough for this country’s leaders; those tough words have been followed up by inaction and even moments of cooperation with the Sudanese government.

New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof, who has waged a relentless campaign to open the nation’s eyes to Darfur, this week reported that the Bush administration helped gut a U.N. statement proclaiming that there is an “obligation” for countries to work to stop genocide where it is occurring. Instead, the final declaration suggested the need for “collective action” on a “case-by-case basis.”

In other words, the obligation to stop genocide applies only when it’s politically and diplomatically convenient. If it isn’t, well, too bad for the victims.

Admittedly, there are no easy options in Sudan. The nation is a cauldron of chaos, and it’s sometimes not clear who’s doing what to whom.

The United Nations is hamstrung by Security Council members that are doing profitable business with the Sudanese government and by weak, ineffective leadership. The African Union, which should be taking the lead, is overburdened and divided. The Europeans are concerned but vacillating. Washington is already overextended in Iraq and Afghanistan, and there are myriad economic and geopolitical factors to consider.

In fact, genocide is always complicated when it’s happening. The Holocaust, for all its savage clarity, was hardly seen as black and white when the Allies were sifting through evidence of the unfolding horrors and trying to weigh it against their war aims.

For the Jewish community, the stakes are not immediate, but they are high nonetheless. After the Holocaust, Jews could console themselves that at least the death of millions would serve as a clear lesson that hatred must be fought before it produces mass killings, and actual genocide must be treated as the ultimate crime.

“Never again” was supposed to be a commandment for action, not a handy political slogan. But it quickly turned into the latter.

Over and over again, nations ignored new instances of genocide, or made concerned noises even as they pleaded the press of other priorities — much as the Allies offered reasonable-sounding, but ultimately shattering, excuses for not acting to slow down the machinery of the Holocaust.

People read about Cambodia’s killing fields, but shrugged their shoulders and said there was nothing they could do. They watched the butchery in Rwanda but dithered; then, they watched “Hotel Rwanda” and wept useless tears.

And now Darfur: Advocacy groups have been formed, wrist bracelets sold, outrage has been expressed. But still, the world won’t find a way to make it stop.

Many Jewish groups have spoken out on Darfur, but only a few, including the American Jewish World Service and the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, have made it a priority. Many cite good reasons for not investing too heavily in the Darfur issue, including the press of Israel and domestic priorities. They also have some bad ones, starting with a paralyzing fear of criticizing the Bush administration at a critical moment in U.S.-Israel relations.

And as always, there is the internal debate over what constitutes a Jewish issue. Shouldn’t Jews be more worried about anti-Semitism in Ukraine or anti-Israel divestment campaigns?

But Darfur is a Jewish issue, because the Holocaust and its meaning have become central threads of Jewish existence in the modern world, spiritually and politically. And memorializing the victims is not enough.

The founders of the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum understood this when they created the Committee on Conscience to serve as an early warning system for new genocides and prick the conscience of the nation. In the past few years, the committee has been doing that with vigor, documenting the horrors in Darfur and demanding action before it is too late once again.

With the United States and most other countries too busy, too divided and too uncertain, “too late” is fast approaching.

What the committee understands is this: For the memory of Holocaust victims to have universal meaning, their suffering must be used as a message to the world that the proper response to genocide isn’t waiting until the only thing left to do is light candles and erect memorials.

James D. Besser is the Washington correspondent for The Jewish Journal.

 

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Never Been Mugged

This piece was excerpted from the writer’s “Maneuvering Between the Headlines: An American Lives Through the Intifada” (Other Press, 2005).

Over time I have learned to drive to a few locations in Jerusalem, but I am never sure when I start out if I indeed will reach my destination without getting lost, circling, poring over maps and asking person after person for directions. I have succeeded in mastering the twists and turns of Tel-Aviv, but driving into the hodgepodge of Jerusalem is as daunting as facing the illogic of Boston’s one-way streets after the comforting geometric symmetry of Manhattan.

In the door pocket of my car I have one road atlas of Israel, one map of the streets of Tel Aviv, one map of the Galilee and, at last count, no fewer than five of Jerusalem. I am always apprehensive of taking the wrong road, and winding up where I might be perceived as an unwelcome intruder.

One day my apprehensions were borne out in a way I couldn’t have predicted. All my life I have seen myself as a civil libertarian, a liberal, a peacenik. In sum, a Democrat. But my behavior proved me no better than the most hypocritical old salon communist.

I had driven to the capital to attend an evening meeting, but was delayed in traffic. Night had fallen and I was late. A double outsider, I was frightened of crossing the invisible borders of the “unified” city into intifada territory where, with my poor mastery of direction, I felt I might be an easy target.

I suddenly recalled advice given to me by a fellow American also based in Tel-Aviv: When in doubt in Jerusalem, leave your car in the guest parking lot at the old Hilton Hotel at its periphery and hop into a cab.

With relief, that’s what I did. Opening the back door I slid into the first cab of the taxis lined up waiting to collect passengers at the hotel entrance. I was just sitting back in the seat, starting to relax, when — through his accent — the driver revealed his nationality.

“Blease,” he repeated my destination back to me, “Hillel Street.”

In the mouth of a native Arabic speaker the English “P” turns into a “B”.

I froze, managed to mumble, “I forgot something,” then fled the cab.

Half panicking, I accosted the astounded hotel doorman and pleaded with him, “Get me another taxi.” I groped for words. “I want a driver with, with–” I searched for a euphemism.

Finally I blurted it straight out: “Find me an Israeli driver.”

Even as I stammered the words, I felt waves of shame rising. I was ushered into the next cab in line, obligingly driven by a Jew.

I kept my eyes focused on the ground, but I felt the dark stare of the Arab upon me as he stood idle beside his idling motor. Humiliation aside, he must have hated me for his lost fare. But however he judged me, it could be no harsher than my own verdict on myself.

My years of so-called convictions hadn’t proved strong enough to hold up a feather when it came to reality. I was too chicken to take a 10-minute drive in a registered taxi through western Jerusalem with an Arab driver at 8 p.m. And I was only going from the Hilton to Hillel Street — not from Jenin to Ramallah.

They say a liberal is a bigot who hasn’t yet been mugged, but my anxiety anticipated the unthrown stone. Unassisted, I put the dagger in the driver’s hand. By my blatant action and blunt words in those brief seconds, I did more damage to the cause of co-existence than I could ever counterbalance by a lifetime of dues to the Association for Civil Rights.

It’s no justification protesting that it was the prudent thing to do, an excusable overreaction, that “you never know,” or that I have a responsibility to my family as well as my ideals. For when I heard that driver speak and saw his dark eyes in the rear-view mirror, I was light years away from any convictions. When push came to shove, I was handed the opportunity to show where I stood, and I did. I failed the taxi test.

And I am doubly damned. For I know that, presented with the same test, I might again refuse the ride, again feel relief as I got out.

I can no longer whitewash my true colors. I, too, am a casualty of the occupation and the intifada it caused — and for that I ask the driver’s pardon. I used to just be waiting for peace. Since that abortive ride, I am also waiting for my conscience to give me peace.

 

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