It is true that over thirty states have passed laws that prohibit the government from contracting with those who engage in a boycott of Israel (read this terrific breakdown by Jack Elbaum). Boycott isolates three very different cases where plaintiffs objected to a provision often included which means that those taking on any sort of government contract have to preemptively agree not to be part of BDS. Each has its merits, and it’s important to note the reasons behind each case to understand the broad application of this law.

Bahia Amawi is a Palestinian-American speech therapist in Texas who won’t consider signing the pledge. Mikkel Jordahl is a Jewish lawyer in Arizona who was deeply moved by a trip to Israel to advocate for Palestinian rights. The one that truly stands out is Alan Leveritt, a newspaper publisher in Arkansas who doesn’t have any opinion on what’s happening in the Middle East but does not want to have his right to boycott stifled just so that he can take ad money from a state-funded university.

Boycott opens with a Republican state senator in Arkansas alleging his fierce love of the Jewish people and how he was compelled to introduce anti-BDS legislation as a show of that affection. A Democratic colleague of his is interviewed later in the film and mentions that he voted in favor of the bill without understanding that his constituents might object to it, and that he might have voted differently after finding that out. Rabbi Barry Block, who leads one of Arkansas’ nine synagogues, explains his take, which is the most level-headed and relatable perspective in the entire film: he fully supports Israel and is just as much against the idea of prohibiting people from engaging in boycotts.

Footage of speeches at AIPAC, CPAC, Christians United for Israel, and other conferences is included to highlight the extensive work by the “pro-Israel lobby” to elicit support for the campaign against BDS. The nuance that is missing in most of this documentary is that there could be a legitimate reason to not be happy about BDS, and that fighting it may not always be the same as suppressing it. In one clip, there is mention of how anti-Semitism can be embedded within the BDS movement, which singles out Israel as the target of boycott efforts without holding other offenders to account, but it’s glossed over as just another scare tactic that should be summarily dismissed.

There are comparisons made to segregation-era rulings that Black-led boycotts of white businesses were illegal, and the right to boycott is emphasized by highlighting its significance in the end of South African apartheid. A closing note explains that anti-BDS bills have been copied almost verbatim to pass similar legislation in Texas that prohibits boycotts against fossil fuels and firearms. The concept, therefore, is that banning any type of boycott is dangerous because it could be used for other nefarious purposes.

But this documentary does devote a large chunk of time to defending the case for BDS as a cause on its own, which doesn’t feel critical to its point that free speech should be permitted in all forms, regardless of its proven validity. Additionally, the emphasis on how the evangelical community’s support for Israel is often more formidable and vocal than the Jewish community’s is made but not underscored in the way that other documentaries like ’Til Kingdom Come have done, clarifying that Christian support for Israel is often aligned with a belief that Jews will need to accept Jesus or face eternal damnation.

The other question that isn’t quite answered is one that is brought up in a clip of former Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who made a video declaring that if someone boycotts the State of Israel, “Israel will boycott you.” The right of an institution or government to respond to a boycott is worth discussing, though admittedly requiring people to sign a pledge not to engage in anything is likely to inspire more people to protest it simply for the sake that it is mandated. This film makes its point that boycotts should not be outlawed, but fails to fully investigate certain pieces of its arguments while overemphasizing others.

The post SXSW Documentary Review: ‘Boycott’ appeared first on Jewcy.

Anticipating the latest film from Palestinian writer-director Hany Abu-Assad is best done through the context of his two most well-known previous films, both of which earned Oscar nominations for Best Foreign Film. Paradise Now followed two suicide bombers contemplating carrying out their mission, and Omar centered on a Palestinian prisoner who is positioned as an undercover asset for an Israeli handler. The lead actor in Huda’s Salon is Ali Suliman, who headlined 200 Meters, about a Palestinian man trying to get to the other side of the separation wall in Israel, and Amira, about a Palestinian prisoner trying to smuggle his sperm out of an Israeli jail, which was Jordan’s official Oscar submission last year until it was ultimately rescinded due to its controversial portrayal of Palestinians.

Huda’s Salon begins with Reem (Maisa Abd Elhadi) walking into the title salon in Bethlehem, only to pass out after drinking some tea. She awakens to find herself naked in bed with Huda (Manal Awad) showing her a photo she has taken of her with another man. Reem now has no choice but to take a card, one that will enable her to give tips to an Israeli agent. Reem is terrified but equally angry, since, to her and others within her society, there is nothing worse than being a collaborator. That is a theme that runs throughout the film, as Huda is apprehended by Palestinian authorities intent on finding and punishing everyone Huda has corrupted for the ultimate irredeemable crime.

While Huda’s Salon is fiercely critical of Israel as an idea, it doesn’t actually contain any Israelis, or even a mention of Israel at all, instead referring to Huda’s contacts as the “occupiers.” It also has plenty to say about the problems within Palestinian society. Suliman’s interrogator Hasan has no sympathy for Huda, and describes the work he does as akin to chemotherapy, which kills even good cells, since innocent people are harmed though they have done nothing wrong. Huda retorts that it is easier to occupy a society that’s already repressing herself, and expresses that she chooses women with abusive husbands because she knows that they are already suffering and this might provide a way out in some form. That the men will be just as likely as the authorities to kill their wives if they find out what they have done is indicated multiple times, because the men’s honor is more important than the women’s very lives.

The tactics Hasan employs are purposely deceptive and entirely cruel. He orders his men to trick people into confessing by offering clemency in exchange for cooperation, which will be withdrawn upon receipt of the desired information. He also sets a man on fire even after he begs for his life and invokes the family that will be left behind without him. Huda knows that her fate has been sealed, and watching how she stands up to Hasan even while facing certain death is among the most compelling elements of the film. She may not believe that what she does to these women is right, but she can say that there is plenty to be fixed within her own community.

Drawing an inherent conclusion about the message of Huda’s Salon, which is well-made and at times quite poignant, is challenging. A director’s statement from Abu-Assad repeatedly mentions the contradictory nature of the story elements and the characters. Huda is a villain for what she does to Reem, but then she is the only one who can protect Reem and the other women she has forced to work for her contacts from a far worse and entirely unforgiving fate. In that sense, the unseen occupier is almost irrelevant to the narrative, since it is focused on the cracks within a society that has its own issues.

But it’s impossible to separate this film from that overall context. The argument can surely be made that Huda is only in the position in which she has found herself because of the occupying forces, and that life in the West Bank is as it is because of that same structure. While some audiences may object to that perspective, which is prevalent and immutable throughout the film, it is crucial to its universe and its viewpoint. It is not a pleasant portrait, but a passionate and thought-provoking one that shows the ways in which communities both evolve as a result of their circumstances and attribute deficiencies and serious problems to external sources, which may or may not always be the case.

Huda’s Salon opens in theaters and on demand on Friday, March 4^th from IFC Films.

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Jewcy had the pleasure of chatting with Aaron about what it’s like to work on the show, the way Jewish content is incorporated, and her own Jewish background. Watch the interview below, and stream all four seasons of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on Prime Video.

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It’s worth pointing out Anderson’s previous brushes with religion in his past projects. In There Will Be Blood, Paul Dano played a preacher who sparred with Daniel Day-Lewis’ oil magnate and sought to cure him of his wickedness through honest faith. The charismatic Lancaster Dodd, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, is the leader of a Scientology-like religion in The Master, which centers on the devotion of a disillusioned veteran, portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix. And coincidence and chance are the masters of fate in what may be Anderson’s best film, Magnolia, which includes many unexplained occurrences that must be linked in some way to a form of higher power.

In Licorice Pizza, Alana is Jewish, born to Israeli parents just like the real Alana. In fact, Alana’s older sisters, Este and Danielle, play her sisters, and her parents, Moti and Donna, also portray themselves. Alana’s Jewishness comes up at multiple points throughout the film, including in a memorable scene where Harriet Sansom Harris’ agent repeatedly makes mention of her Jewish nose. That’s not necessarily meant as a detractor, but instead just one of her features which is, at the very least, distinctive. Such stereotypes have not historically been considered positive, but Alana has accepted the nature of her face and the fact that it’s just part of her charm.

It’s important to note the impact of this scene in comparison to another moment that has attracted negative attention. Japanese restaurant owner Jerry Frick (John Michael Higgins), when meeting first with a newspaper representative and then young entrepreneur Gary, puts on a cringe-worthy Japanese accent to ask his wife a question. That he’s asking in English and that she answers in Japanese with no subtitles is just puzzling and obviously meant for comedy, and in the second scene it’s an entirely different actress playing a new wife, who fulfills the same purpose of being nothing more than a punchline. Asian-American groups have rightfully taken issue with these scenes, which, like a recent Holocaust joke on And Just Like That, play no greater role in the film and could have easily been left out.

It’s as hard to grapple with the presence of that clear racism as it is with the age difference between the two leads, who do explore a romantic relationship. When Alana first meets Gary, who instantly expresses interest in her, she notes that any union would be illegal because she is 25 and he is 15. Yet they spend almost all their time together, and a connection develops. There is a beauty to it, and this film doesn’t judge them for being at different points in their lives, instead highlighting how the discrepancies in their maturity levels and the way that they spend their time makes it difficult to imagine that they could really last.

Forgiving those two questionable elements of Licorice Pizza may make it challenging to get through and to adore for some viewers. But there is truly something that feels magical about its storyline, which is at times larger-than-life and allows a fifteen-year-old actor to accomplish incredible things. Haim and Cooper are both extraordinary talents, and while they are better known for their music and famous parents, respectively, they should absolutely return to future roles since they are inherently skilled. Anderson also knows how to work with actors, something he has proven over and over again, leading his past performers to nine Oscar nominations (Haim and Cooper have received other accolades for their work this past year).

What should make Licorice Pizza particularly poignant for Jewish audiences, however, is a scene that has far more depth and isn’t meant to be merely for a quick laugh. When Alana brings Gary’s friend Lance, played by Jewish actor Skyler Gisondo, over to meet her family, they sit down to a Shabbat dinner. Alana’s father Moti asks Lance to lead the most basic of Jewish rituals, the motzi over the challah. Rather than feign ignorance or reveal that he isn’t Jewish – a typical plot point in situations like this – Lance raises a pointed objection, declaring that he is an atheist and has made a vow not to participate in any prayers. That show of principle is more offensive to Moti than anything else, underlining that tradition has a deep place in any family, something Lance’s refusal to honor deeply wounds. There is so much packed into the two hours and thirteen minutes that Licorice Pizza runs that everyone will be able to find something different. Cameos from Bradley Cooper, Sean Penn, and others enhance a story that is most about two people who share a deep connection, one whose physical nature may disgust some and whose ethical acceptance the film doesn’t dwell much on, just as it does nothing to excuse its Asian racism. There is a transporting nature to the way this film feels, and it’s even more rewarding for fans of Anderson’s who may have liked his previous work but have never experienced anything quite like this before.

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It’s first worth clarifying that the scene didn’t actually include a Holocaust joke, but rather an instance where Anthony’s date Justin, upon learning that he was at a Jewish dinner, gleefully informed his hosts that the Holocaust was a hoax. To decide what is or isn’t offensive to people isn’t any one person’s job, and so anyone who found the inclusion of that bit unnecessary or uncouth is perfectly entitled to that opinion. Whether Holocaust jokes in general are okay has been explored before in films like The Last Laugh. The question is: is there anyone in this show’s audience who wouldn’t have understood that the remark was so patently absurd that it was absolutely deserving of Anthony’s response, which was to furiously dismiss him without a second thought?

And Just Like That is a show that has dealt with gender identity, race, and other hot topics that the original series didn’t address nearly as well, and its subsequent episode, the finale, featured Torah reading blessings and a trans rabbi. What viewer would think, for even a second, that this oaf’s faux pas should be taken seriously? Perhaps it is a comment on how certain longstanding misconceptions and stereotypes can permeate even liberal circles, unintentional ignorance that over time becomes mainstream thought. The idea that Jews control the world’s financial institutions or have dual loyalties are cited far too often as facts rather than problematic and historically-perpetuated insults.

But how much is a TV show responsible for echoing the way the world is and for the way that people might interpret its content? This is not a new conversation. Sacha Baron Cohen’s Borat was funnier if you knew that his character was speaking Hebrew and that Cohen himself is Jewish, but someone who had never met a Jew might think the film was portraying reality when it is clearly an outrageous mockery. Similarly, a first-time watcher of Inglourious Basterds might utilize the film’s storyline that features Jews brutally seeking vengeance on Nazis during World War II as an argument that Jews were in part responsible for their own fate. Anyone who stays through the end of the film should hopefully understand that it is pure fiction.

We see hate in entertainment all the time, often assigned to villains who are meant to be evil and irredeemable. On HBO Max’s Peacemaker, the title character’s father gets sent to prison in his son’s place for crimes he did not commit. But he is a fully unapologetic white supremacist who does more than merely think hateful thoughts, and it is posited that maybe he is behind bars for good reason, whereas Peacemaker, who has been indoctrinated by theories about the “deep state” and other right-wing talking points, does have a moral code and only seeks to kill the bad guys.

Is there a point where seeing disturbing truths about the society we live in reflected on screen becomes unnecessary, especially when they are used purely for entertaining purposes? Movies about the Holocaust should of course not downplay the horrors of what happened, but are there not enough made-up nefarious causes that could populate popcorn flicks and comic book TV shows? The likely answer is that those who belong to a particular group will feel more strongly about something that affects them personally, and there won’t be any widespread consensus since different things bother different people.

Justin’s appearance on And Just Like That serves no greater purpose to the show than a quick laugh. As soon as he first comes on screen, he’s immediately gone thanks to Anthony’s swift rejection of anything he has to say. Its inclusion doesn’t add anything, and it surely won’t be referenced again for any reason. The show continues to showcase challah, religious ceremonies, and rainbow yarmulkes to support Rock’s evolving gender expression. What the bit’s presence and the response to it show is that even portraying ignorance can be triggering for some, and with good reason, because the assumption every viewer is able to identify what should be chalked up to fully unbelievable humor and what could be a stand-in for how things really are is flawed. That it was merely one line and then promptly forgotten suggests that it may have done more damage than the minor benefit provided by a momentary chuckle.

The post Are Holocaust Jokes Kosher? appeared first on Jewcy.

Mourning is a subject frequently featured in Israeli cinema partly due to the number of Jews in the country and the way in which even those who are secular are familiar with the basics of what happens ritually after a person’s death. The period of mourning allows for transition from an unthinkable loss to a new reality, providing a system of healing that isn’t offered in the same way in other religions. Recent films like Longing, Foxtrot, and One Week and a Day have dealt with complicated instances in which the process of sitting shiva is affected by specific circumstances. The latest Israeli film to be released in the United States adds considerably to the grief with its own portrayal of an unusual loss.

Thomas (Tim Kalkhof) is a baker living in Berlin who begins an affair with a visiting Israeli businessman named Oren (Roy Miller). Whenever he comes to town, Oren stops by Thomas’ shop for a delectable treat, making sure to pick one up each time to bring home to his wife, Anat (Sarah Adler), and his son Itai (Tamir Ben Yehuda). When Thomas learns that Oren has been killed in a car accident back home, he travels to Jerusalem and visits Anat’s café, keeping his relationship with Oren a secret. After Anat hires him as a dishwasher, Thomas begins to make some of the delicacies he used to create on a daily basis in Germany, building a relationship with Anat in the process that can somehow help him feel closer to the love that they’ve both lost.

As usual, English is the universal language in this German-Israeli coproduction, with only the late Oren speaking both German and Hebrew fluently. Thomas is a man of few words to begin with, and he’s someone who listens carefully, taking his time to heed the instructions of those around him and say nothing he doesn’t need to. In the course of his acclimation to Israel, however, he does experience an unexpected obstacle as a result of his accidental violation of kashrut laws. When he first bakes cookies as a birthday surprise for Itai, he is admonished since his unsupervised utilization of the oven jeopardizes the kosher status of the café.

Anat repeatedly states throughout the film that she is not religious and doesn’t want to be religious, fighting back against her friend Moti (Zohar Shtrauss) for questioning her hiring of a German employee and her willingness to let him keep cooking. When she invites Thomas to come to her home for Shabbat dinner and he quickly offers not to bring anything homemade, she responds that her home isn’t kosher. Subtle commentaries about the kashrut industry in Israel rightfully take a backseat to this sweet story of searching for solace in unexpected ways.

The food in this film takes a supporting role, but it still occasionally reaches the level of a film like Chef. Watching Thomas make pastries is a delight, and it’s clear that all who taste them are experiencing the same sensation that visual montages of pies and cakes create for viewers of the film. Either the food portrayed on screen really was that good, or this film’s stars are incredible actors for making each bite seem truly and incomparably delicious.

Sarah Adler may be familiar to American cinephiles for her starring role in Aya, the Oscar-nominated short film about an unplanned car ride from Ben-Gurion Airport, or her performance in the well-regarded Israeli film Jellyfish. She and German actor Tim Kalkhof make a great pair, demonstrating a chemistry that isn’t quite romantic but rather based on a shared sensitivity and positive expression towards the world.

Though this film is rooted in loss, it’s a sentimental, lovely story that feels particularly wonderful at this moment in time. At its purest, it’s a film about two people brought together by a love cut short which just happens to be the same for both of them. The lack of a proscribed end point or typical romantic arc makes it a particularly wondrous experience, equally melancholy and hopeful, and plentifully appetizing at all times.

The Cakemaker opens in New York and Los Angeles this Friday, June 29th, with more cities to follow in July.

Still from The Cakemaker

The post Jewcy Review: ‘The Cakemaker’ appeared first on Jewcy.

The opening titles of the new film The Catcher Was a Spy set the scene in 1938, when the Nazis tapped physicist Werner Heisenberg to build an atomic bomb. “In response, the U.S. government sent a Jewish baseball player to assassinate him,” reads the subsequent cue card.

That premise conjures up two well-known—and extremely different—Jewish action films in relatively recent memory. The first is The Hebrew Hammer, the absurd send-up about a Jewish superhero saving Hanukkah from the son of Santa Claus, best remembered for its protagonist’s signature catchphrase, “Shabbat Shalom, motherfucker!” The second is the Oscar-winning Inglourious Basterds, Quentin Tarantino’s violent and entirely fictionalized tale of a group of American soldiers, including one nicknamed The Bear Jew, who operated during World War II hunting and brutally executing Nazis.

Neither of those is a good barometer for what this film is, and it’s not just because this one is based on a true story. Nicholas Dawidoff’s 1994 book The Catcher Was a Spy profiled Moe Berg, a popular baseball player known for his intellect, knowledge of world events, and mastery of multiple languages. In addition to his fifteen-season career as a catcher, Berg was recruited by the Office of Strategic Services, which would later become the CIA, to use his considerable skills off the field to combat the threat of a Nazi victory during World War II. Popular Jewish actor and comedian Paul Rudd portrays Berg in what may well be the most straight-laced performance of his career.

There’s really no signature moment in which Berg gets to execute some sort of symbolic Jewish revenge on his Nazi targets, and his Judaism, while referenced as the hook of the film, doesn’t come up much. Instead, it’s his sexual orientation that gets more attention, with Berg not conforming to societal expectations of a nuclear family and pursuing men, even if his era can’t acknowledge or respect that. What’s most interesting about Berg’s undercover operations is that he goes in without hiding his celebrity status since no one would possibly suspect that a baseball catcher would be serving as a spy for the American government, gathering crucial intelligence while in town for a highly-publicized sports visit.

The best source of comparison for this film is The Monuments Men, George Clooney’s light-hearted ensemble piece about a group of Allied soldiers sent to save precious art during World War II. Like Clooney’s film, this one seems to take place within its own little bubble in which its characters seem to be impervious to harm and to events happening around them, narrowly pursuing their aims without much interference from enemy troops or other focal points of the war. The notion of a team dedicated to protecting artwork when so many humans lost their lives during the Holocaust didn’t go over so well with some Jewish audiences, and The Catcher Was a Spy at least presents a more serious mission. Berg’s objective is an important one, since his actions may directly prevent the Nazis from a devastating accomplishment that could change the course of the war.

Those expecting Rudd to transform into Ant-Man and punch a Nazi scientist in the face will be sorely disappointed with this film, but they will find a nuanced and straightforward drama about an unexpected spy who was very good at his job. Rudd is joined by a number of prominent actors, including Paul Giamatti, Connie Nielsen, Sienna Miller, Guy Pearce, Tom Wilkinson, Giancarlo Giannini, and the film’s comedic standout, Jeff Daniels, in this slow-burn period thriller from director Ben Lewin, whose previous credits include The Sessions.

The Catcher Was a Spy opens in theaters and on demand this Friday, June 22.

Image: Paul Rudd as Moe Berg, in Ben Lewin’s THE CATCHER WAS A SPY.  Courtesy of IFC Films. An IFC Films Release.

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The 6th Annual Israel Film Center Festival at the Marlene Meyerson JCC Manhattan concludes today, after a week of showcasing some of the best recent Israeli cinema and television. Here’s a look at what you should keep an eye out for wherever, and whenever they return to the big screen.

The opening night film was Shelter, which played theatrically in Los Angeles back in April. This thriller, which features Israeli superstar Lior Ashkenazi in a supporting role, spotlights tremendous lead performances from Iranian actress Golshifteh Farahani as a Lebanese Mossad informant recovering from plastic surgery to protect her identity and Israeli actress Neta Riskin as the Mossad agent sent to protect her. Director Eran Riklis is known in Israel for The Syrian Bride, Lemon Tree, and The Human Resources Manager, and this film is an excellent addition to that resumé. Riskin, who earned an Ophir Israeli Academy Award nomination for her performance, is quickly becoming as prominent as Ashkenazi or the late Ronit Elkabetz. Riskin stars in two other Israel Film Center Festival selections this year—Longing and Saving Neta.

Those two films are both about men whose impact on other people’s lives is felt most strongly once they are gone. Longing, an Ophir nominee for Best Picture, follows a man who learns that he was the father of a nineteen-year-old boy only after his son has died in a car accident, leading him on a mildly comedic journey to get to know his son. It’s an affecting drama with its own peculiarities that work well. Saving Neta weaves together four seemingly unconnected stories, all of which include the title character, whose impact on four different woman going through difficult times becomes clearest when all of its scenes have been presented.

There are two films that deal with being a teenager and approach the topic in extremely different ways. Scaffolding, another Ophir nominee for Best Picture, follows Asher, a temperamental student who is torn between the masculine work ethic championed by his construction worker father and the gentler and more unexpected teaching style of his literature teacher. Almost Famous (not the Cameron Crowe movie where they sing “Tiny Dancer”) is an overt comedy about reality-competition television and the allure of fame matched perfectly with the present-day society in which every kid (and many adults) are permanently attached to their cell phones at every moment. Both films are effective and pair well together despite their differences–picture a much less aggressive and less destructive version of Thirteen and a more subdued take on Mean Girls, respectively.

There’s action and intrigue to be found, as well, with Azimuth and The Testament. The former is best described as a cat-and-mouse thriller in which two soldiers, one Egyptian and one Israeli, end up in a battle to survive at the end of the Six-Day War, still exhibiting hatred for each other despite the war having already officially ended. It’s far from the most memorable film from the festival, but it’s always good to see an exploration of how those on opposite sides of a conflict have more in common than they might think. The Testament is a modern-day drama featuring an Orthodox Israeli historian focused on finding a mass grave from the Holocaust who realizes through his research that his mother may have lied and might not actually be Jewish, forcing him to confront enormous questions about his identity and to determine how much the truth really matters. It’s definitely the most Jewish of the films presented in a festival that features Israeli cinema with mostly secular characters.

The closing night selection, which is screening tonight at 7pm at the JCC, is Outdoors, a look at the decay of a couple’s relationship when their plans to leave the city and build a house in the Galilee become so overwhelming that they can no longer find common ground. Though it features Noa Koler, who took home an Ophir award in 2016 for Rama Burshtein’s superb comedy The Wedding Plan and netted another nomination for this film, it’s hardly the glue that holds this festival together. It does, however, present an interesting bookend with Shelter, telling a story about two people whose situation is universally relatable, entirely unspecific to their Israeli identities or any cultural conflict.

The festival also included a filmmaker panel about the future of Israeli cinema, selected television episodes, and short films from Tel Aviv University. Jewcy will be taking a longer look at another one of the films presented, The Cakemaker, in a few weeks ahead of its June 29th theatrical release.

There’s clearly great cinema coming out of Israel, and if the films featured here are any indication, the 7th Annual Israel Film Center Festival will present an equally diverse and appealing slate next year.

Image from Azimuth via YouTube

The post Israel Film Center Festival appeared first on Jewcy.

The 21st Annual Brooklyn Film Festival began this past Friday, June 1st, subtitled THRESHOLD. Brooklyn Film Festival Executive Director Marco Ursino sums up its lineup with this great quote: “In the middle of this undeniably appalling time in American history, Brooklyn Film Festival aims to amplify the voices of its films and filmmakers by shedding light, spreading love and celebrating diversity.” It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that, with 125 films featured, at least a few would have substantial Jewish content. Jewcy got a sneak peek at three memorable–but very different–animated shorts that fit that bill.

My Yiddish Papi, from Franco-Canadian filmmaker Éléonore Goldberg, is a sobering and powerful seven-minute exploration of a young woman’s thoughts and feelings after missing the last phone call from her grandfather before his death. Remembering moments spent together at a bistro hoping to be more fit at his age pale in comparison to the sorrow and seriousness she feels when she recalls the harrowing journey he took to survive the Holocaust. This film does exactly what its late protagonist views as most important: continuing to tell his story so that others will not forget what happened.

Niggun, from Tel Aviv-based animator Yoni Salmon, is a considerably odder production. The twelve-minute film finds two men traveling through space in a distant future looking for the long-lost Earth. One is a space archaeologist and the other is a very frum-looking rabbi. As they arrive to a planet that has fallen apart and seems completely abandoned, audiences are treated to some extremely familiar religious sites that don’t appear to have the same effect on the rabbi as one might expect for a modern-day Earth dweller. It’s a film reminiscent of the equally strange The Rabbi’s Cat, offering a mildly amusing take on Judaism coming out in a way that hardly feels realistic or relatable yet is still fascinating to watch.

Tasteful, from Israeli-born filmmaker Morr Meroz, is the shortest of the three, clocking in at just two minutes. The one-line synopsis for the film describes “a not-so-friendly competition between two food vendors quickly turns violent, as the dishes they serve get less and less Kosher.” Its Judaism may not be particularly overt, but this is the latest clever take in the vein of Finding Nemo and Zootopia on what animals as talking beings in a society that resembles our own might say and feel. It’s easy to understand that a pig would be offended at the idea of being sold bacon by a pig, and naturally his basest instincts would compel him to offer up sushi in plain view of his newfound competitor. This is simple fun that makes the most of its premise.

My Yiddish Papi and Tasteful are screening together at the NY Media Center on Wednesday and Saturday night, while Niggun can be seen at Windmill Studios on Friday night and Sunday afternoon. Purchase tickets and check out the full lineup of the Brooklyn Film Festival, which runs through June 10th.

Image from Niggun courtesy the Brooklyn Film Festival

The post Brooklyn Film Festival Spotlight: Animated Jewish Shorts appeared first on Jewcy.

Fresh off an Oscar win for Best Foreign Film for A Fantastic Woman, starring transgender actress Daniela Vega, director Sebastián Lelio is moving over to English-language cinema. His latest film, Disobedience, stars Rachel Weisz as Ronit, who returns home to the London Orthodox community she left behind at a young age when her father, a prominent rabbi, dies. She finds herself shunned by many but welcomed by her childhood friend Dovid (Alessandro Nivola), now himself an esteemed rabbi, and his wife Esti (Rachel McAdams), with whom Ronit shared a forbidden relationship that bubbles back up to the surface when they are reunited. Jewcy sat down with Lelio to discuss the making of this immersive deep dive into a reclusive community.

Jewcy: Congratulations on winning an Oscar for A Fantastic Woman. How do you feel that these films connect to each other?

They are both taking female characters that are on the fringes of either society or narrative and putting them in the absolute center. They are creating these cubist portraits where they are observed from every possible angle and the stories make them go through an entire emotional spectrum.

Jewcy: How familiar were you with the book by Naomi Alderman and what inspired you to get involved with the project?

I didn’t know about the book, but one of the producers of the film, Frida Torresblanco, pitched the story to me and I knew that she was partnered with Rachel Weisz. They had both seen my film Gloria and somehow they thought I could be the right person for it. I liked the idea of this very particular love triangle, these confused, vibrating human beings that are trying to do their best, in flux, operating in front of a backdrop that is more or less made of fixed conceptions and ideas. I found that very fascinating, even though I’m not British and I’m not Jewish.

Jewcy: How familiar were you with Orthodox Judaism before making this film?

Not very. I had some notions but it was fascinating to write about this world. It was like writing about an unknown world, one that is completely created already that has aesthetics. It has a God. It has a set of rules, a moral code, a tradition, music. It was really interesting to dive into that mysterious planet. The dynamics of the rituals, how Shabbat works, how that somehow glues everything together and has survived for many centuries. That was something that I didn’t know very well and I was quite surprised to learn about. It’s there in the film.

Jewcy: There are a lot of very intensive Jewish practices and expressions that are in the film that probably aren’t familiar to casually Jewish viewers and definitely not to those who aren’t Jewish. Did you feel any pressure to explain some of those things rather than just presenting them as something that they are living and makes sense to them?

I didn’t want to fall into the “manual” trap because I don’t think that’s interesting. I became quite obsessed with getting the cultural part of it right, so we had a few consultants for the writing process. Naomi Alderman was helping also throughout this, talking to our co-writer Rebecca Lenkiewicz about the details of what life was like inside that very secretive neighborhood. Later on, during pre-production, we increased the number of consultants to twelve. We really wanted to get it right and then forget about it, to be able to concentrate on what was really important, which is the three main characters.

Jewcy: Can you talk about the three main actors and how they approached their roles?

It was great fun to discover who needed to be part of that triangle. I knew that we needed two very strong counterparts. I always felt that Rachel McAdams was going to be great as Esti. The fact that she has so much joy inside was going to be interesting in a role like this where joy is really repressed, wearing unflattering costumes and all that. I was convinced that they were going to have great chemistry – the two Rachels. For the character of Dovid, I really wanted to cast someone who could reunite a great masculinity, even a sexual presence, with the ability to transmit that he is a spiritual person. I think Alessandro brought all of that to the equation. It was quite amazing to see him transform.

Jewcy: In the film, you combine orchestral music with ritual Jewish chanting. How did you put that together?

I love using music in films. There was a great opportunity to use this beautiful, ancestral music that has thousands of years behind it and use it grammatically in a way that belongs to this world. It’s so particular and has so much identity, so painful and so charged, and I didn’t want to miss that opportunity. At the same time, we combined it with Matthew Herbert’s score, which is operating in a very different direction. It’s a score that is almost like a sci-fi score. I was trying to create this feeling of strangeness through music.

Jewcy: For your next project, you’re adapting your 2013 Chilean film Gloria into an English-language version?

Yes, I’m finishing the cut. I’m about to start post-production. It’s an idea that has been brewing for a few years. I met Julianne Moore before shooting A Fantastic Woman and Disobedience. We agreed that I would make these two films first, which was a good thing because after making them I felt that it was okay to revisit my previous material and be in a place where I could find a way to make it vital and vibrant again. In the meantime, the world changed. Trump got elected and the entire landscape changed, and suddenly a film about a woman that doesn’t want to throw in the towel became urgent. It was a luxury to work with her and John Turturro. We had fun.

Jewcy: Is there anything else you’d like readers to know about making Disobedience?

One of the things that was very revealing in the writing process was discovering that the antagonistic force wasn’t really coming from the community but the characters themselves. They are the main obstacle to overcome. That helped with escaping the cliché idea that the community is bad and that these are just victims of their environment. It’s much more complex than that. I think the fact that I’m not Jewish or British helped me to connect with whatever is universal in that story.

Disobedience is now playing in New York and Los Angeles.

Image from Disobedience

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