It is one thing to know that peace-loving Palestinians exist, but quite another to join several hundreds [700, I have since learned] of Palestinians giving a standing ovation five minutes long to a film about non-violence. Last Wednesday night, I sat in an IMAX-sized theater in the West Bank Palestinian city of Ramallah for the grand opening of Budrus, a documentary about a village that successful relocated the security barrier off their lands through peaceful protest. I was overwhelmed, galvanized.
Budrus is a film that challenges everyone’s preconceptions — Jew, Arab, other — and aims to pry open space in reluctant hearts. Five years ago, the village of Budrus successfully averted the construction of the security barrier from cutting off a majority of their farming livelihood and through their cemetery. The film follows Ayed Morrar, Fatah activist turned community organizer, as he unites with local Hamas leadership, the town’s women led by his daughter, alongside Israeli activists. It heals doubts across multiple themes: the divide between Israelis and Palestinians, the rivalry between Fatah and Hamas, the place of women in Palestinian society, and the use of violence. A more inspiring combination couldn’t possibly be more remarkable to see, nor to witness its raccous support by the people of Ramallah. More »
Have you ever wanted to see how the newly-founded State of Israel looked in colour? Now you can.
During the first few decades of the State, Fred Monosson, a well-healed American Zionist, attempted to capture the everyday life in the newly minted State of Israel and the joie de vivre of the early pioneers on colour film stock. The footage (sampled in this video) also includes images from the ruins of post-war Europe.
The recent recovery of this rare footage—very nearly trashed after being discovered in the attic of the deceased Monosson’s Boston home—constitutes a story in its own right. Thanks to Israeli filmmakers Avishai Kfir and Itzik Rubin, the film and the story of its recovery has been immortalized in a fascinating documentary,אני הייתי שם בצבע, I Was There in Color, which premiered this April in the US.
As producer Itzik Rubin suggests in the video, it is always fascinating how our collective memory of a particular historic period is irrevocably coloured and shaped by the media with which we associate it. We tend to imagine certain periods in the past as eternally “black and white,” with the somber, formal quality of standard history textbook illustrations. Part of the shock and beauty of this footage is precisely the everydayness of the images it offers.
On the other hand, these images are not exactly random or everyday: we see some of the state’s most celebrated political and military figures gracing Monosson’s lens, and the crowd scenes he captures are exuberantly happy—all this during a period of great suffering and struggle.
Perhaps the most interesting part of this clip happens at about 11 minutes in, as current Israeli President Shimon Peres recalls a warmer, less materialistic Israel of a bygone era. Peres’ bittersweet comment about the old mentality, while it may also gloss on the social realities of the times, at least nods to what is not being said elsewhere here, namely, the shifting of attitudes and values in today’s Israel.
Does Monosson’s footage then filter early Israel through rose-coloured glasses?
Perhaps, but this is still some rather remarkable footage certainly worth watching.
“…makes you think all the world’s a sunny day”
(Hat tip to Dr. Grace Cohen Grossman, who brought this footage to my attention.)
Two upcoming movies I’m guessing the Jewish community will be discussing this summer: “Holy Rollers” (above), based on an apparently true story about Hasidic drug runners; and “The Infidel” (below), a wacky comedy about a British Muslim man who discovers his birth parents were Jewish.
My early reviews: the latter movie looks like a hash of the stupidest stereotypes of Muslims and Jews (tho I’ll admit that the final line in the trailer made me laugh out loud).
Re “Holy Rollers:” the peyos in “The Chosen” were more realistic…
Three Boston-area Jewish professionals-cum-independent-documentarians are working on an hour-long documentary about Birthright Israel… and they need YOUR HELP!
The project is called Mifgash: Encountering Jewish Identity in the 21st Century, and the filmmakers are about $800 away from their $10,000 goal. If you’ve ever wanted to see your name in the credits of a film, this could be your chance, for as little as $36. For a grand, you can become an Associate Producer. If you’re interested in chipping in, check out their page on Kickstarter.
From the trailer, the film seems like a Birthright lovefest, so I’m curious to see if the final project includes the voices of Birthright’s critics. Then again, the trailer also features at least one image of tefillin and no drunken hookups, so one wonders how much the film will really reflect the Birthright experience.
There is a lot to be said about the possibilities of Jewish film. We’ve heard about kollel guys turning the lens on themselves, Israeli filmmakers orchestrating the visual return of Jews to Poland, or Palestinian filmmakers depicting the society that excludes them.
Then there is Wallace Berman. Born on Shaolin Island in the Roaring 20s, his family made their way to California in 1930, just in time for the Depression. He was a member of many loosely organized bohemian camps. He’s often mentioned in the same catalogs as Artaud, Bukowski, and Burroughs – but like some tzadikim, he wasn’t exactly like any of them. Berman experimented with proto-xerography processes to create collages that upended conventions in postwar American art. The only film he made is called Aleph – and it brings together his interest in abstract visualizations and Jewish Mysticism.
Operating in JST, we still haven’t released our ‘best of’ series as we reflect upon the last decade. This is the first of several posts in which we will review various aspects of Jewish culture in the past ten years.
Let’s face it: if there’s one thing Jews do, it’s watch films (unless they’re ultra orthodox, in which case they absolutely don’t). If there’s another thing Jews do, it’s criticize. Allow me to indulge in both of these glorious activities. Right now.
We all have our favourite hidden ‘Jew’ moments in films. Whether it’s the chaotic hava naglia scene in Terry Gilliam’s Brazil (1985); when we meet the Royal Tenenbaum’s pet bird Mordechai (2001); the Heveinu Shalom Aleichem scene in Todd Solondz’s Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995); the creepily touchy-feely prison counselor with a golden ‘chai’ dangling from his neck in the opening of the Coen brothers’ Raising Arizona (1987), or, of course, the fact that the second instance of music in the first-ever feature-length ‘talkie’ is non other than Kol Nidrei (The Jazz Singer, dir. Alan Crosland, USA, 1927), film is a landfill of subtle references to all things Jewish.
Perhaps my favourite Jew film of all time, the 2009 Academy Award nominated film, A Serious Man, outdoes itself in this sense: instead of a few understated touches in the mise en scène, the film is wall-to-wall Jewish; my immediate reaction upon leaving the theater after having watched it for the first time was, “for whom was this film made??” The answer to this question seemed, curiously, quite obvious, when, after viewing this film several times with a variety of friends, it became clear that the multiple, cryptic Jewish references flew by my non-Jewish friends, leaving them rather flummoxed by their inability to access the critical subtext of this film. Usually however, what I am calling here a ‘Jew film’ reads more accessibly to its general audience. Whatever Jewish element is present in the film is noticeable enough to humour those privy to the joke but also sufficiently subtle to camouflage effortlessly within the rest of the film, thus not disorienting or confusing the general audience.
In our context here, a “Jew film” will be defined as one containing some prominent Jewish element, such as an obviously Jewish character, prominent mention of a Jewish holiday, or other Jewish cultural references. For the sake of this list, I have not listed every Israeli film that has been made over the past ten years. On the level of logistics that would be rather unwieldy; on the level of content, I do not believe that everything Israeli automatically translates into ‘Jewish.’
(I once had a highly awkward argument with Israeli author A.B. Yehoshua about this.) Disagree with me if you must, but I am correct.
Upon reviewing this semi-complete list, I find it rather unsettling that a sizeable chunk of these selections are Holocaust-themed films. That is to say, many of these films are transparent expressions of the Holocaust-as-Jewish-identity theme that has haunted international Jewry for the past 60-some years. One would hope that in the process of healing from the catastrophic events of the mid-20th century, “Jew Film”, while not abandoning the memory of past horrors, might equally embrace the more vibrant and varied—if sometimes confusing—aspects of 21st century Jewish culture and existence.
Finally, I’d like to thank the Academy*—er, sorry—a handful of good friends who helped me compile this list: Tamar Fox (of myjewishlearning.com), fellow teutophile Sonia Gollance, and former film collaborator Izzy Moskowits.
*(For any Jewish Chicagoans reading this, I am not referring to the high school I attended.)
Raysh’s top ten Jew films of the 21st century: Winner: A Serious Man / Waltz with Bashir (a tie)
Not in NYC? Host your own watching party & catch it on the Jewish Channel on Saturday nights. [Note: TJC is available on cable -- iO Optimum ch. 291, Time Warner ch. 528, RCN ch. 268, Verizon FiOS ch. 900, and Cox Cable ch. 1. For more information, visit tjctv.com.] Send some photos to editor-at-jewschool-dot-com & we’ll post them on the site. (Or just share them with us on facebook)
“What Makes a Hero?” is a rough cut of a promotional video I produced for UJC’s Jewish Community Heroes awards in 2009. It wasn’t used during the campaign, but I am happy to release this long form version of the video, which features interviews with about 25 people on the streets of New York City and Brooklyn. The video was recently presented at the Limmud NY 2010 Conference.
It is so wonderful to be on the idyllic central California coast with 630+ people all interested in discussing the relationship between issues of food justice, nutrition, and the environment, and how it relates to the Jewish community. The participants here represent 5 countries, 29 states in the US, come from all sorts of backgrounds and identities, and are all here to forge community for the next three days.
The breathtaking drive from Los Angeles to Monterey distracted me to the point that I was not able to make it to the conference center in time for the afternoon sessions that kicked off the conference, so below is a write-up of this evening’s events.
As this is a Jewish food conference, we were treated this Christmas Eve to Chinese food and movies. While there were amazing movies to choose from, I chose to go with a documentary on the Jewish community of Petaluma, CA called “A Home on the Range,” which was directed and produced by Bonnie Burt and Judy Montell. More »
When we at the Other Israel Film Festival announced the screening of Mohammed Bakri’s latest documentary Zahara(trailer), I was surprised to receive extreme responses from some members of the community. I believe this misled outcry is precisely the problem the Other Israel Film Festival is aiming to fix. Our primary goal is, through film, to open dialogue and promote understanding. The misconception some have of Arab citizens of Israel and particularly of M. Bakri is at the heart of our festival.
I first saw Mr. Bakri in the flesh when I was in high-school. He played in a revolutionary production of Oedipus the King at the Jerusalem Theater. He stood as symbol of co-existence between Arabs and Jews and the ultimate image of Arab citizens of Israel. He was a household name in Israel and beyond, best known for his role in Beyond the Walls which was nominated for an Oscar. Bakri was a brilliant Oedipus, a master at his craft. The production was of Brechtian form and sought to remind the audience of relevant messages that stand behind the play.
Bakri’s artistic performances transcend stereotypical Arab-Israeli politics. He is not foremost a Palestinian actor, but rather an actor first and foremost. Still, he connects art and social change and walks a fine line between these passions. It was clear he wanted to be recognized as an actor first and not as an Arab. And he achieved that.
But then came the downfall. Like Oedipus, he went from being king to an enemy of the state. More »
“Lights, Camera, Social Action – Jewesses in Hollywood”
Olivia Cohen-Cutler, senior vice-president of ABC Television, chair of the Morningstar Commission, and board member of the Jewish Women’s Archive will lead a discussion on the diversification of the Jewish woman in Hollywood on October 28, 2009 at 7 pm at Temple Shaaray Tefila in New York.
A few days ago, I had the chance to speak with her. As one would expect, she is a funny, well-spoken woman. At ABC she is, essentially, the censor: she ensures that community standards are upheld, including monitoring for obvious things like racial slurs, but also for stuff you might not otherwise notice. (I have to admit, all I could think about when she mentioned her job was John Waters‘ autobiography in which he talks of his interactions with the Maryland censors’ board, back in the 1960s when he was starting out.) But while I’m sure her job at ABC is really fascinating, what I was really interested in was the topic of her discussion: the changing face of Jewish women in television and on film.
The Morningstar Commission was started in 1997 to counteract the nearly invisible faces of Jewish women. When they appeared in media at all, Jewish women were almost always portrayed negatively. Gallons of inkhave been spilt over discussions of why many Jewish, male writers wrote Jewish women so nastily (a trend more or less started by the tiresome Philip Roth and Herman Wouk and continued up until today). My least favorite example of this in film being Keeping the Faith in which Ben Stiller can’t find a Jewish girl to marry because they are all self-absorbed, vain, or worse, but luckily for him his blonde, gentile girlfriend may convert! She’s good enough for him! More »
Between services this Yom Kippur, I attended a talk by a revered and learned elder in my community. Michael had a number of urgent messages to share with us that day. One of them was that the biblical story of Job never actually happened. “The Job story never happened. They say so in the Talmud.” Here was a righteous man, who happened to be a Holocaust survivor, feeling the need to tell us, on Yom Kippur of all days, that the Job narrative was nothing more than a fiction with an abstract moral. He did not explain why he chose to speak of this particular subject, but it seemed as though he wished to assure us that no life could be as unbearable as Job’s.
The next week, I saw the opening of the Coen brothers’ new film A Serious Man, set in 1960s Minnesota, with many scenes filmed at our congregation in St. Louis Park, MN. Seeing Michael, in his distinct, heavy Czechoslovakian accent, call the protagonist’s young son up to the Torah in the film’s climactic bar mitzvah scene caused me to view A Serious Man in an entirely different light. I began to consider the possibility that this film, centering on the multiplying woes of an earnest, unassuming suburban Jewish mathematics professor, was a modern re-casting of the Job narrative. Both in his personal life, which included his wife’s sudden announcement that she wanted a divorce, his children’s apathy, his neighbor’s hostility, and in his professional life, where his travails included the shocking attempt of a student bribe him for a passing grade and the frustrating uncertainty of his department’s tenure review committee’s decision, Larry, his glasses eternally askew and his life a mess, is beset with anxiety and ethical crises brought on by harsh and seemingly random circumstance. Larry’s troubles are decidedly modern problems, but the questions he asks are timeless. (Curiously, Michael – my fellow congregant who appeared in this film — was the only character in the modern American part of the film–which constitutes the bulk of the film’s narrative–to speak with even a trace of an old-world accent.) The Yiddish of the opening scene gives way to an affectively flat English which dominates the heart of the film. Only in this bizarre bar mitzvah scene are we reminded of that world, for a fleeting moment.
This understated but extremely ambitious films tackles the formidably expansive subject of human suffering, but framed within a very specific moment of Jewish life in America.
Formatted like a Talmudic discussion, the film opens with a piece of visual aggadah, a symbolic prefatory anecdote, a distinctly theatrical and subtly witty Polish shtetl scene, which could have come straight from the pages of Yiddish modernist writer Sholem Asch. While the Yiddish accent of the wife in this scene was a bit off, gestural richness abounded, amply compensating for any such technical shortcomings. The dybbuk character was portrayed masterfully by Fyvush Finkel, whose facial contortions alone were enough to recall the communal soul of a people of a bygone era. This was a world inhabited by spirits, talismans, premonitions, and acceptance of harsh fates. More »
So. Yeah. Thanks to JDub Records’ blog for pointing out that someone has got it in their heads to make an epic biopic about Moses–with green screen technology all around. So says the post at JDub:
According to 20th Century Fox, “The Moses story will be told using the same green screen strategy as ’300,’ so it will feel more like that pic or ‘Braveheart’ than ‘The Ten Commandments,’ the 1956 Cecil B. DeMille film.”
So this movie is gonna be kind of like if Moses led 300 ancient commando Israelites out of Egypt while epically battling Pharaoh, who, in this version, will have a mysteriously and inhumanly deep voice. God help us.
The good news?
The popular mythical and magical elements inherent in the Book of Exodus will be there–including the plagues visited upon Egypt and the parting of the Red Sea–but [this] version will also include new elements of Moses’ life that the writers culled from Rabbinical Midrash and other historical sources.
Midrash, you say? Historical sources? Now I’m interested. Hopefully they’ll be wise enough to emulate DreamWorks, who, wile producing their super-awesome Prince of Egypt, hired acclaimed and also super-awesome biblical translator Everett Fox to be a consultant on the film.
The AJWS-Avodah partnership launches a new series “Meet the Change” this Wednesday, featuring big time changemakers and offering chances to meet other agitators of like mind. At this launch, watch a screening of the Yes Men’s film The Yes Men Fix the World followed by a private reception with Mike and Andy — the Yes Men themselves. All the details are here.
So I’ve been reading the script (downloadable here) to the film Inglourious Basterds. And it’s pretty over-the-top insane.
Not that you wouldn’t expect that from a movie that’s (a) by Quentin Tarantino, (b) about Jews, and (c) borderline sadophiliac in its embrace of violence. But there are some moments, excised from the final film, that tell the story as…well, as a much different story.
In this scene, Donny Donowitz, the “Bear Jew,” has just bought himself a baseball bat. (Proprietor: “You gettin’ your little brother a present before you ship out?” Donny: “No.” Stony silence, as they both realize its significance.) Donny then pays a visit to a tiny little old Jewish lady in an apartment building who invites him in for tea:
Donny: Mrs. Himmelstein, do you have any loved ones over in Europe who you’re concerned for? Mrs. Himmelstein: What compels you, young man, to ask a stranger such a personal question? Donny: Because I’m going to Europe. And I’m gonna make it right. Mrs. Himmelstein: And just how do you intend to do that, Joshua?
He holds up his [baseball] bat.
Donny: With this. Mrs. Himmelstein: And what exactly do you intend to do with that toy? Donny: I’m gonna beat every Nazi I find to death with it….I’m going through the neighborhood. If you have any loved ones in Europe, whose safety you fear for, I’d like you to write their name on my bat.
I’d assume that part of the reason this scene was cut is because the scene that introduces the Basterds unit — post-battle, where the soldiers are interrogating Nazi prisoners and collecting scalps — flows with such brutal elegance. But also, the scenes that feature the Brookline Jewish community would probably take the movie away from being the squarely violent war film that Tarantino intended to make and cast it more as a Holocaust-era character piece.
In Jordana Horn’s excellent interview with Tarantino, both acknowledge (correctly, I think) that Basterds wasn’t a Holocaust film. But, when looking at Tarantino’s original visions for the film — some reports suggest that his original script, which clocked in at over 270 pages and 5 1/2 hours of shooting time — the final product could have been any of several types of film.
(One final note: Ostensibly, Tarantino’s original concept was to make the film entirely about Shoshana, the Jewish girl whose family was killed in front of her, in which she makes a list of Nazis responsible and extracts vengeance. That apparently turned into his last film, Kill Bill. I do wish Basterds was more like Kill Bill in its embrace of the hero — nearly all the Jews die, and all the women die in particularly horrific circumstances — but I understand how both women’s deaths were called for by the storytelling ethic. Which doesn’t make their portrayal any less anti-woman.)
Guestpost by “anonymous,” who is Jewish, and Skyler, who was raised Christian. Both writers are post-transition FTMs. Anonymous first asked to write a guest post a couple weeks ago, before Skylar’s article was forwarded to me. I thought they ran well, and show parallel thoughts and struggles across religions. – TWJ
Anonymous: Years ago, I participated in online communities for transsexual Jews. We would talk about when to switch the gendered Hebrew words in prayer to reflect our true gender identities, how to deal with mechitzahs while transitioning, how to fulfill the first mitzvah, of being fruitful and multiplying, and generally support one another. It was a place to find support, when most of us could not find it in our home communities, especially not in our shuls or Jewish communities. We discussed the merits of programs like JONAH (Jews Offering New Alternatives to Homosexuality) and the appeal of diving fully into the frum world so we could make those binary gender models work for us.
I’m really happy they decided to include this in the programming this year. Church was a big part of my life growing up, but it isn’t currently. In joining facebook I’ve found a lot of friends from my past, from school and church. I quickly realized, looking back on my life, that once I got to be a teenager and was involved in the church youth group I had to give up all of my school friends because they weren’t part of the pentecostal/evangelical church. I really regret that. There were so many cool people at school that I isolated myself from. Now that I’m gay and trans, 99% of my church friends will have nothing to do with me, tell me they don’t agree with my lifestyle and disapprove of me, or completely ignore me. It’s sad, really. I’m still me. I’m just presenting myself to the world how I’ve always felt on the inside. I’m just being true to who I am…and am more happy and well adjusted than I’ve ever been before.
Judaism was a big part of my life growing up, and still is, though in different ways. When I was younger, I went to religious school, a community high school program, and a Jewish youth group. Being closeted about having transitioned from female to male, I cut ties to my Jewish communities. I felt isolated at synagogue, and stopped going. I no longer felt I had anything in common with the few friends I had maintained from youth group. The social networking world is a nightmare for me; a few people have tracked me down on facebook and have friended me, often asking me incredibly personal questions up front (“You’ve received a friend request from Someone, with the message: ‘Hey, heard that you were a dude now. Did you ask the surgeon to circumcise your surgical dick? lol’”). I don’t know if it’s our religious upbringing that leads to the distance, but when friends from high school find me on facebook, there usually isn’t the same degree of awkwardness.
This brings me to my thoughts about religion. Religion is truly a device to separate people. Peterson did say something that made me soften my almost militant atheism. He said that he had tried being atheist but failed because he kept finding himself praying under his breath. He said that his brain was just wired to have some sort of god in there. I suppose that sort of idea isn’t harmful to others but it’s those that take religion to the point of forcing and injecting their beliefs into society at large that need to be stopped. It’s just dangerous.
I’ve had rabbis and relatives argue that religion and piety trump identity. If only I were more frum, more observant, I would have been happy living my life as a female, having babies, and keeping a home for my husband. I don’t know if it was their constant bombardment over several years, or my own internalised trans-phobia, but I gave pause to their suggestions. I then realised that I was being true to who I am, and would be happier being male in the world. I spent a lot of time studying Genesis, and midrash, becoming comfortable with the notion that we all are created in God’s image; God, and Judaism, could still be in my life if I transitioned genders.
There were two obviously gay teenage boys in my church youth group. One ended up committing suicide the other I haven’t been able to locate on facebook to find out if he’s happy and true to himself now. My boyfriend from church back then has been struggling his whole life with being gay. I knew he was struggling back then and I occasionally see him now; once, a couple years ago with a girl on his arm. He’s trying so hard to be a good christian, and works in an industry that he’s voiced to me that he cannot be openly gay in. Back in our youth group days, I remember my parents and the church youth leaders telling him to try and get me to dress and act more like a young lady. That’s a whole other story for another time.
When I was younger, I played with gender. I was never a “girly girl,” but I’m sure my parents wouldn’t have guessed I was a boy either. I took cues from two elementary school classmates. One, A, was very androgynous, had an androgynous name, and was fascinated by my Judaism. (I was the only Jew in my class, and one of a handful at the school.) We would spend recess on the jungle gym, then I would teach A Hebrew. R was a girly boy, who had a fantastically individualised style; I would now compare him to Ricky on My So-Called Life. Instead of wearing a backpack like the rest of us kids, R had a briefcase, in which he would carry his homework, lunch, and a doll. R was the friend I would spend lunches with, lying on the field, looking up at the sky, discussing how we might fit into the world. One of the ways I tried to fit in was by getting involved in my synagogue, taking on “boy” roles like leading services and giving d’var torahs.
Anyway. That brings me to this trailer for a new documentary called This is What Love In Action Looks Like, about a teen who wrote on MySpace in 2005 about his parents sending him to an ex-gay centre that offered “freedom from Christianity”:
For resources and support, check out Beyond Ex-Gay, an “online community and resource for those of us who have survived ex-gay experiences.”
I’ve often wondered about going to a yeshiva, living their as one of the guys, continuing to hide. Knowing that I have that choice is empowering. Knowing that some people don’t have that same choice is unbearable.
Amreeka, a film by Cherien Dabis (official site) about a single mother who makes her way from the West Bank to rural Illinois with her teenaged son, is now playing in New York. By the end of the month, this Palestinian take on the old “Coming to America” formula will be in theaters across the country. I sorta can’t wait.
Lately I’ve noticed I’m becoming more and more in sync with all things Palestine. As long as it’s not explicitly about the long war or nationalist politics, I can’t resist a Palestinian cultural experience. I root for their athletes. I read their [English-language] blogs. Seeing Palestinian individuals succeed has started giving me a kind of nachat I tend to associate with taking pride in the accomplishments of Israelis – or Jews – or New Yorkers. You know, my people.
I guess it was bound to happen. Stay linked to someone long enough, even through violence and terrorism and occupation, and you start to rub off on each other. Daniel Pipes has a whole website devoted to showing how Palestinian nationalists use Zionist rhetoric and concepts. This bugs the hell out of him, but I wonder what else would anyone expect? We eat their food. They use our organizing principles. We employ them. They trade agricultural products with us. We love their homeland a little too much, they love ours just as terribly, and certainly we both know what it’s like to be disposessed of our homes and turned into geopolitical pawns. The tightly linked infrastructures, economies, and cultural resources of Israel and Palestine are sometimes pointed to by one-state advocates claiming that two countries between the Jordan and the Sea are one too many. I may disagree, but I think it’s clear that there’s something connective, something almost familial going on in Canaan. We and the Palestinians may be more “killing” cousins than “kissing” cousins most of the time, but to me it seems we’re cousins nonetheless.
So this is my hearty Mabrouk & Mazal Tov to Ms. Dabis and to the cast and crew of Amreeka (including Palestinians, Israeli Arabs, and at least one guy with the name of an American Jew). You’ll be getting my $9.50 down at the Landmark soon enough.