And given that “A Serious Man” is a retelling of the Book of Job, isn’t that sort of the point? Job is, if nothing else, a Biblical shaggy dog story of epic proportions. (In the words of Rabbi Nachner, “You can’t know everything…”)
Saw the movie “An Education” last week (really great). As my wife Hallie and I were talking about it afterward, she referred to one of the characters, a sort of handsome ne’er do well who sweeps the heroine off her feet, and asked, “why do you think they had to make him Jewish?”
I admitted that the thought had fleetingly occurred to me during the film, but it didn’t really bother me in the end. It didn’t seem to me that the filmmakers made him Jewish to make a negative statement about Jews in general, but rather to illustrate the rebellious, non-conformist spirit of young woman who falls in love with him. (Lest anyone miss this point, at one point the girl’s headmistress says to her at one point, “you know, don’t you, that the Jews killed our Lord?”)
After watching the movie, I read a Forward interview with the film’s screenwriter, Nick Hornby, which contained a really interesting conversation about his portrayal of the Jewish character. Hornby (who is not Jewish) made the very trenchant point that he hoped “we’re beyond the point where you can only show ethnic and religious groups in a positive light.”
There’s a different dynamic at play when these kind of portrayals come from Jews themselves. I’m thinking particularly of the Coen Brothers’ “A Serious Man,” another recent movie that engendered similar conversations in the Jewish community. Though I personally loved it, I was struck by how many of my Jewish friends were put off by the portrayal of Jews and Judaism in the film: the neurotic main protagonist, his son’s hilariously horrid Hebrew school experiences, the three nutty rabbis, etc.
It seems to me this kind of raw self-reflection is a time-honored Jewish phenomenon. I’d say “A Serious Man” is part of a grand tradition that dates back to the books of Philip Roth and Bernard Malamud, and the stories of Sholom Aleichem – and if we’re going to be truly honest, to the Bible itself, which itself contains innumerable flawed protagonists who often behave in troubling ways. (I can only imagine what the ADL would have to say about the King David story if it was published today…)
I’m sure that Jews have been wincing about popular portrayals of their folk from time immemorial – and I imagine that members of other ethnic groups have done just the same. But at the end of the day, isn’t it true that the narratives that speak to us most deeply tend to be the ones in which that include imperfect characters struggling to survive in an imperfect world? (I can’t think of one great work of literature that contains a perfectly well-adjusted protagonist living a happy life with no problems to speak of).
I also think we need to put these portrayals in context. I’m reminded of a comment made by one of my undergraduate Jewish lit professors years ago regarding “Annie Hall:” if some of the Jewish characters were often neurotic, the non-Jewish characters were often downright psychotic (exhibit A: Christophen Walken’s hilarious turn as Annie’s little brother, above). Of course they are stereotypes in both instances, but I don’t we’d wouldn’t laughing if we didn’t recognize a deeper truth underneath.
I’d like to think we Jews are secure enough in our skin in this day and age to bear warts-and-all-portrayals in the popular culture. It’s all too easy to cry self-hatred or anti-Semitism every time we come across something that makes us wince. I’d say it’s much more fruitful to expend less energy worrying what the non-Jews might think and accept that the best and most worthwhile stories are the ones that rub us a little raw.
I know there are those who wonder why, with all of the various injustices going on in the world, do I seem to dwell on Israel’s treatment of Palestinians? It’s a fair and important question. For me it boils down to this: I’ve come to believe that too many of us in the Jewish community will unabashedly protest persecution anywhere in the world, yet remain silent when Israel acts oppressively.
I know all too well how we actively avoid this truth. We use any number of rhetorical and political arguments to deny it, to mitigate the discomfort and pain it causes us. We engage in a kind of tortured dance of rationalization that we save for no other world issue but this one. But for me, at least, but none of it really addresses the core issue at hand: however difficult it might be for us to face, Israel is unjustly oppressing Palestinians.
So what are we going to do about it?
Many of us deal with it by putting our faith and efforts into the peace process. And well we should: though I’ve been honest in expressing my own doubts and concerns regarding the peace process, I understand that in the end the only true solution to this conflict will be a political one. But as the peace process enters into its latest incarnation, as the various actors involved painfully wrangle over diplomatic parameters, it is safe to say this saga will continue to take its time to unfold. And in the meantime, the real lives of real Palestinians on the ground will continue to grow increasingly intolerable.
For myself, at least, I cannot use the peace process, critical as it is, as a kind cover to keep me from facing and protesting the oppression that is occuring in Israel/Palestine every day, even as I write these very words. While I will do what I can to advocate for a just and peaceful political settlement to this crisis, this work does not give me a pass on speaking out. If we truly believe we must protest injustice anywhere, anytime, then it seems to me that this principle must apply to Israel/Palestine as well, no matter how painful or difficult the prospect of doing so.
Earlier this week, I was the moderator of a discussion following the showing of a powerful new documentary, “This Palestinian Life” – a film that was often unbearably painful to watch. TPL documents a little-seen aspect of Palestinian life: the nonviolent steadfastness (in Arabic: “sumoud“) of Palestinian villagers who live with a crushing occupation, constant settler attacks, and the deliberate, relentless annexation of their farm land.
This quote from one villager sums up the movie’s essential theme:
I don’t own a gun.
I don’t own any weapons and I’m not prepared to own any…
My only weapon of defense is that I won’t leave this place…
and my hope is that the world will respond to Israel’s treatment of us.
As difficult as it was, I was honored to have been asked to moderate the post-film discussion. I know there are many who would regard my participation in such a program as an act of disloyalty or at the very least an exercise in masochism. But in the end, it really came down to this: I just can’t do the dance any more.
I’m not sure which is the stronger sign that Armageddon is at hand: the Swine Flu outbreak or the increasingly surreal reactions to this pandemic du jour.
Not to make light of an admittedly serious situation, but does anyone else notice how unmitigated fear almost inevitably gives rise to “you can’t make this stuff up” style irony?
One of the most horrible features of war is that all the war-propaganda, all the screaming and lies and hatred, comes invariably from people who are not fighting. (George Orwell)
You know what I really hate? Those horrible, insidious commercials for the National Guard that come on before the movie previews. So now in addition to the indignity of having to sit through commercials at the movies, we have to watch this abject propaganda over and over? (As my mortified kids will attest, I have an involuntary tendency to swear loudly at the screen whenever this stuff comes on).
The Kid Rock/NASCAR version (above) is especially horrid. “And if you ain’t gonna fight, get out of the way…” Boy, you don’t know the meaning of insult until you’re repeatedly subjected to foreign policy according to Kid Rock…
In the unlikely event that some theater owners are reading this, here’s my vote for a more appropriate rock and roll tutorial about our country’s foreign military adventures: That Man I Shot by the Drive-By Truckers. (Click below for the lyrics):
“Waltz With Bashir” has been racking up the prizes. In addition to a slew of international awards, it was awarded Best Picture by the National Society of Film Ciritics, Best Foreign Film at the Golden Globes, and it seems to have the inside track on the same award at the Oscars this Sunday night. But as “Bashir” amasses its acclaim, some observers are frankly critiquing the film against Israel’s painful present-day reality.
In a recent Nation article, Israeli author Liel Liebovitz wonders why the Israeli public has so thoroughly embraced this fiercely anti-war statement (enough to vote it as their third-favorite Israeli film of all time) while ignoring its “harrowing lessons” through its strong support of their government’s military actions against Gaza.
Liebovitz concludes that “Bashir’s” popularity not withstanding, Israel is sadly disregarding director Ari Folman’s powerfully moral vision – particularly in light of the recent elections:
Israel of today is not Ari Folman’s. It is Avigdor Lieberman’s and Benjamin Netanyahu’s, the country of the countless men and women crying out for revenge. As we root for Waltz with Bashir, if we want to truly honor that film’s message, let us never forget that. Otherwise, all we have is just a pretty animated film.
(We) are reminded of the psychologist’s comment near the start of the film: “We don’t go to places we don’t want to. Memory takes us where we want to go.” Perhaps this explains how at the same time that Gaza was being decimated, Israel heaped acclaim and awards on Waltz with Bashir; in addition to numerous international awards, the film scooped up six awards at the Israeli Film Academy. Indeed, the same Israelis who flocked to see the film gave their enthusiastic approval to Operation Cast Lead in Gaza. According to a poll released on 14 January by Tel Aviv University, a staggering 94 percent of Israeli Jews supported or strongly supported the operation.
As a Palestinian viewer, however, Antoun goes even farther than Liebovitz: she faults the film for rendering Palestinians essentially invisible:
There is nothing interesting or new in the depiction of Palestinians — they have no names, they don’t speak, they are anonymous. But they are not simply faceless victims. Instead, the victims in the story that Waltz with Bashir tells are Israeli soldiers. Their anguish, their questioning, their confusion, their pain — it is this that is intended to pull us…We don’t see Palestinian facial expressions; only a lingering on dead, anonymous faces. So while Palestinians are never fully human, Israelis are, and indeed are humanized through the course of the film.
Among other things, I think these reviews illuminate the painful difficulties inherent in making an anti-war statement while the war is still raging. A sad anecdote: a congregant recently told me that when she saw the film, a screaming match erupted in the audience after it ended. Apparently someone screamed “That’s Gaza!” to which another responded “Shut up!” and on it went…
Just saw “The Wrestler” and loved it. Loved Mickey Rourke’s performance. Loved the new Springsteen song. (Not sure the New Jersey Chamber of Commerce will love it so much…)
I also enjoyed the director”s earlier movie takes on kabbalah and the Tree of Life. And here’s the thing: “The Wrestler” is a pretty spiritual movie too. It’s actually a remake of “The Passion of the Christ.” (In case anyone misses the connection, Gibson’s infamous flick is actually referenced in the movie). But take it from me: “The Wrestler” is much more enjoyable than “Passion of the Christ.”
It’s essentially “Passion of the Christ with a staple gun. And without the anti-Semitism.
The new animated Israeli feature, “Waltz with Bashir” premiered at the Cannes Film Festival last week to extremely positive reviews and I must say I am REALLY looking forward to seeing this one. Directed by Israeli documentarian Ari Folman (one of the writers of the HBO series, “In Treatment”), “Waltz” is largely based on actual interviews with 1982 Lebanon war veterans – and Folman’s personal memory of the Sabra/Shatilla massacre of Palestinian civilians.
According to one review:
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that I wouldn’t be surprised to see Waltz with Bashir show up on the slate at Telluride in September, and even less so to see it wind up with an Oscar nod come January. Folman has made a beautiful, disturbing and deeply compelling film that documents the horrors to which he and his friends were witnesses, while offering hope that he and others might, some day, heal from the ravages of war. While it’s too much to hope that this or any film might have an impact in the real world that could put an end to mankind’s seemingly endless capacity to hurt one another, films like Waltz with Bashir offer us the opportunity to learn about and from history. If those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it, perhaps those who do might, eventually, build a world where such atrocities no longer exist.
From the looks of the trailer above, “Waltz” looks to be one of the most original and significant Israeli feature films in recent memory. It is scheduled to open in Israel on June 5. Here’s hoping it travels stateside soon.
There were Jewish pirates? That’s right, just click here for the story, matey!
In honor of this news, here’s a pic of another kind of Jewish pirate: my boyhood friend and Hebrew schoolmate Lee Arenberg, now famous for his turn in the “Pirates of the Caribbean” movies…
I’ve purposely stayed away from commenting on Ann Coulter, as I have no interest in helping her sell more books, but this new clip is too brilliant not to share…
My posts on "Shalom Rav" focus primarily on Judaism and social justice, with a particular emphasis on Israel/Palestine. Please check in regularly and feel free to share your comments.
I'm the Rabbi of Jewish Reconstructionist Congregation in Evanston, IL. The opinions I share here, however, are mine alone. They don't represent the positions of my congregation or any other organization with which I am affiliated.