Monday, February 19, 2007

Tonight Is Opening Night!

Photo: John Aquino
The cast of "My Mexican Shivah" poses with director Alejandro Springall

Chronicles of a Professional Eulogist, My Mexican Shivah, Chronicle of a Jump, and 5 Days all premiere the evening of Wednesday the 10th.

“My Mexican Shivah” screened last night at the insiders’ opening party for the 16th annual New York Jewish Film Festival. There was resounding applause and free tequila.

Guests included this Grande Dame of New York, Joan Rivers...
Photo: John Aquino

John Sayles (Executive Producer, "My Mexican Shivah") chatted with the audience...

Photo: John Aquino

When the family patriarch dies, his shiksa mistress, orthodox, drug-dealing grandson, distractingly beautiful granddaughter, and more-than-vaguely troubled children get together to sit Shivah, or “chiva,” as the family’s domestic workers call it. There are also a mariachi band and Talmudic scholars to judge the soul of the departed. This is what Jews do. Come watch them do it in Mexico City, with a spirited soundtrack by the Klezmatics.

I spoke with Raquel Pankowsky, Sharon Zundel, and Ricardo Kleinbaum, all actors in “My Mexican Shivah.”

What was your greatest challenge in making “My Mexican Shivah?”

Raquel Pankowsky, Esther
I found the script so challenging, so good, that I became unable to perform, and Alejandro (Springall, the director) had to give me a pep talk. The pressure was so intense that I cried, and then it emerged, Ether’s sadness. Really, maintaining Esther’s level of emotion was the greatest challenge of the film for me.

Sharon Zundel, Galia
For me the entire role was a challenge. My character had so many conflicts, so many ways that she didn’t fit in, she was in such a panic of identity: unable to mourn her grandfather, unable to be a Jew and a Mexican, unable to love freely the only thing she really loved, Galia really admired her grandfather without liking him. This was a very challenging and rewarding role for me.

Mexico’s Jewish community can be closed-off, and it is difficult to be part of Mexican society and Jewish society in Mexico at once. I think that Galia’s predicament addresses this problem, but also goes more deeply to illuminate the human condition.

Ricardo Kleinbaum, Ari
This movie was neither intended as comedy nor drama. If it fits some genre, great, but as I played Ari, and as I saw his role in the film, “My Mexican Shivah” is about people and their reaction to great loss. When death interrupts the flow of life, you see the best and the worst in people. It is with this fact in mind that I approached Ari.


I also spoke with Ilan Stavans, who wrote the story “Morirse Está en Hebreo,” on which “My Mexican Shivah” is based. Here he is on the left, alongside his father, Abraham Stavans, who plays the lawyer in "My Mexican Shivah."


I asked Ilan Stavans about being Jewish in Mexico and about the process of watching one’s story transition from the page to the screen:

My original story was more subtle and more mystical. Alejandro (the director) used the story as a canvas, and thus, necessarily, some things get left out: my tools are words, his are images. But it would be foolish for a writer to be territorial. I really appreciate his interpretation of the story.

I wanted to communicate this sense of suffocation where the characters are bunched together in their own home, ostensibly their own realm, but still they are ill at ease, there is tension. They live, as Jews in Mexico often do, in the prison for the minority individual. Jews in Mexico cannot be protagonists in the history of their country, as Jews can in the U.S. Indeed, my view of on these issues, as with the story of “My Mexican Shivah,” is very much informed by the fact that I live in the U.S. now.

Mexican Jews are at once insiders and permanent outsiders, a bit like the family in the film. The very metabolism of Mexican society differs from the U.S.’s: Mexican society embraces foreigners without really allowing them to become Mexican; they are always other. But then again, the choice is theirs, it goes both ways; they choose to stay in the society.

Alejandro Springall, the director of “My Mexican Shivah,” and I will be speaking later in the week. In the meantime, stay tuned for more updates…
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From left to right: Zohar Lavi (Chronicle of a Jump), Sarah Jane Lapp (Chronicle of
a Professional Eulogist), Andrew Ingall (The Jewish Museum), Aviva
Weintraub (The Jewish Museum/NYJFF Director), Kristi Jabobson (Toots),
Lucy Kostelanetz (Sonia), Steve Grenyo (Film Society of Lincoln Center),
Alejandro Springall (My Mexican Shivah)

Photo: John Aquino


Photo: John Aquino
Claudia Bonn, Executive Director, Film Society of Lincoln Center
Joan Rosenbaum, Helen Goldsmith Menschel Director, The Jewish Museum

Saturday at 9PM: Lucy Kostelanetz on Art, Life, and "SONIA"


“SONIA” recounts the life of Sofia (Sonia) Dymshitz-Tolstaya, a brilliant painter and visionary born into a Jewish St. Petersburg family in 19th century Russia. We hear of Sonia’s loneliness as a young, locked-away lovebird, as a mother during World War II, as an artist struggling under Stalin, and later, ever more alone, invigorating a Communist genre with her sense of generous feminism and beauty. Her tableaux are shockingly accomplished, blending the accepted form of Social Realism with a humanistic, life-affirming vision.

I spoke with filmmaker Lucy Kostelanetz (Sonia’s great-niece) in her Manhattan studio. Lucy spent more than fifteen years preparing “SONIA.” Her commitment alights from every frame of this gorgeous, ambitious film.

I asked Lucy Kostelanetz about her great-aunt Sonia’s artistic career:
Sonia painted what she saw. She went out to the countryside and got to know her subjects, the workers, which was part of her style, her sincerity, and her belief in the principals of the Revolution. Her paintings are not celebrations of the happy worker. They’re loving, and they’re grim. You can really see the history of the country in her art.

Sonia worked with Vladimir Tatlin, the Constructivist leader, producing incredible art and theory, and addressing the way museums and art institutions function. She and Tatlin called themselves “Artists of Material Culture” and it was then that she made her works on glass, which art historians consider her most accomplished. A great part of her heroism as an artist to me is that despite the circumstances, and perhaps, in some inexplicable way, because of them, she managed to put herself into her work, with these propaganda paintings on glass; tract made translucent, if you will.

How did Judaism fit into Sonia’s life?
Jewishisness is sort of a submotif in the film, but it’s always there. To me her humanism is what shines and what makes her culturally very Jewish. Now, Sonia did convert to give her daughter the benefits of a Christian birth, and I can’t know how conflicted she was, yet she converted back to Judaism in 1917, which to me was a return to her true selfhood.

I was very interested in how Sonia mediated the differences between the ideology and reality of Communism, how, with her heart and soul invested in the Revolution, she came to terms with its realities. I wonder if her Jewishness wasn’t part of this reckoning.

Lucy Kostelanetz (left) on Nevsky Prospect in St. Petersburg

How long did “SONIA” take you to make?
The idea occurred in 1991, when Sonia’s granddaughter gave me her memoirs. My first shoot was at the Guggenheim Museum in 1992 at a show called “The Great Utopia,” on the Russian Avant-Garde. The USSR broke up and in 1994 I went back to research, and stayed with family. At first, the art historians and curators were very disparaging of her work, and then all of a sudden they were interested in her. Every story opened up to something else, and in 1999, Final Cut Pro (computer software) unburdened me of many time-consuming technical issues.

I still feel there’s more art. At the Russian Museum alone, they’ve been discovering more paintings. In fact I’ve learned there exist at least four more, but they need thorough conservation.

Would you tell us more about the process of bringing still photographs to life?
I would make the storyboards and give them to Jared Dubrino, who did the motion graphics. Matthew Lutz-Kinoy’s drawing and collage added a level of visual complexity to the film. George Griffin was our animator, and Todd Sines designed three unique fonts for the film. And he named one after me, Kostelanetz Modern Bold!

To learn more, please visit
www.soniathemovie.com.

Jared Dubrino on "SONIA"


"The process of making the images for Sonia developed over time. Initially, there were a series of drawings and still photos and simple collages that were created by Lucy. She tried to maintain the feeling and some of the style of Sonia's collage work. As time went on, technology caught up with her vision, and Lucy and I spoke of creating work that Sonia might have created had she had Photoshop, After Effects, Final Cut Pro.

Just as Sonia longed to get away from the surface, to add depth and space to her works (which is what led her to glass) so did we also want to move away from flat images with simple pans and zooms.

By using the "Z" axis, the 3rd dimension available to us in After Effects, we were able to create a 3D world where the different 2D images could live and move. Just as Sonia did in her own work, we used existing photographs of the characters, extracting them from their surroundings (using photoshop instead of scissors or blades), then mixing them with found images of objects and environments. This was all then animated and given life with After Effects.

We also had original images specially created for us by Matthew Lutz-Kinoy, pen-and-ink drawings as well as collages that were based on Sonia's own work, where situations involving the characters were recreated. George Griffin led the way with his animations using these techniques, and then Matthew and I built upon that style, eventually animating the better part of the film. Todd Sines of Scale+ then created the custom animated fonts, each based on the Cyrillic text of Sonia's environment. These text treatments added the final "icing," bringing even more spirit of Sonia's times and works to our film."

The Last Yiddish Film Made in Poland: "Unzere Kinder (Our Children)"

1948’s “Unzere Kinder (Our Children)” tells the story of Jewish orphans living in the Polish countryside near Lodz after World War II. It was the last Yiddish-language film ever to be made in Poland. But, as J. Hoberman, Senior Film Critic of The Village Voice and author of Bridge of Light: Yiddish Film Between Two Worlds, explained, it was certainly not intended to be. Rather, it was to be part of the reinstitution of the old Yiddish talkies.

Two Jewish men--played by virtuoso comedy duo Shimon Dzigan and Israel Shumacher--return from the USSR after the war and perform Yiddish vaudeville for the orphans. The men talk with the children, and moved by their stories, decide to visit their orphanage. Dzigan and Schumacher, as J. Hoberman explained at the screening, were essentially playing themselves, as were the children. Like so many, they were coming to grips with what happened in the Holocaust, and as we see in the film, finding out how to represent the Holocaust is its largest concern: the children have brutal flashbacks, the mothers weep and tell of dead children, Dzigan and Shumacher ape the Nazis, but no one is satisfied that they’ve told a coherent story.

There would be no more Yiddish talkies in
Poland. Indeed, the film was never shown in that country but had to smuggled via the Turkish diplomatic pouch into France. Ultimately, the post-Holocaust life in Poland that “Unzere Kinder” tried to envision was as chimerical as a Dzigan and Shumacher set piece.

"Gorgeous!" - Director Lisa Azuelos on Women, Jews, France, and Paris


Director Lisa Azuelos' comedy "Gorgeous!" (or "Comme t'y es Belle") portrays the lives of women today in the Sephardic community of Paris. Azuelos explained after the sold-out screening that her film plays differently to French and American audiences. In France, she explained, it was almost bizarre to see everyday Jewish women as the subject of a film, and the fact that "Gorgeous!" was a comedy made it even more unique, perhaps singular.

I spoke with Lisa Azuelos at last night's Directors' Party.


What drove you to make “Gorgeous!”? Are you part of a Sephardic community in Paris?
I wanted to make a movie about women. And even though I’m not Jewish because my mother is not Jewish, I was raised by my father in this Jewish community. So I’m enough of an outsider to have witnessed it, and enough of an insider to talk about it. Being part of the community has really grounded me, even though I’m not a real Jew. In fact it would be a pain for me to have to marry a real Jew because then I would have to convert.

But this community gave me love and affection and food, and gave structure to my life with the dinners, high holidays and celebrations, like a perennial student on the semester system. Every year is structured in a special way. In the end, I really identify with the Jewish community I was raised in.

So that’s why this movie is both Jewish and non-Jewish: you see, I am very much Jewish but I’m not. So I’m talking about women in this film, I’m talking about Jewish women, especially, in tribute to my Jewish grandmother who did not speak of god, but who had god in her hands while she worked in the kitchen.

How does Jewish life fit into Parisian life?
Nothing that is not pure French Catholic is fully normal in France. It’s difficult for the French to absorb other communities and it’s the same for these communities to accept French culture. It’s not like here where you put your hand to your heart, say you’re an American, and then you are. In France you have to choose between one culture and the other, and in the end nobody really can choose anything. It’s odd, but I think it will soon change for the better.

Well maybe your film is in some sense a look in that direction, a hopeful look?
Yes, that’s why I made the movie. It is a hopeful look at the relations between men and women, Arabs and Jews. I was trying to bring joy.

Are your characters the type of women one could find in Paris today?
Yes, I know people like this. I’ve been like this, I have friends like this. I think I've stuck to real life in the film.

Then why, as you said at the screening, was “Gorgeous!” a challenge for French audiences?
Dramas about Jews are much easier for French audiences: You are a Jew and nobody understands you, you are a Jew and love an Arab; you know, drama. Or you can have a big, big comedy which is unrelated to real life. My movie, though it is a comedy, takes places in real life, which makes it unique.

You know, Woody Allen talks about Jewish people, but really about people more universally. And American audiences get that. But, when it comes to films in France, people think being Jewish should be the only thing, it should eat the other story.

But the French love Woody Allen! Because he’s exotic…?
No, because he’s great! Well, for us it’s exotic to see Manhattan. I wanted to do some of the same things, not to compare of course!, to make fun of certain aspects of Jewish life in Paris.

Is it common for Sephardic Jews to employ North African Muslims?
Yes. In the end, women are more bound by the fact that they come from Morocco than by religion, in a sense. They can speak Arabic together, they are part of the same community.

What sorts of responses did you get when you were first showing “Gorgeous!” in France?
People were really moved by the women’s stories, they could really relate. And I’d like to recount this one event: I took my film to a little town called Vannes at the end of Brittany. It has only cows and flowers. Nothing else. And they really don’t know what a Jew is. I showed this movie to an audience there, and these 65-year-old ladies were moved by my movie. And I was moved by that.


"Love and Sacrifice"



"Based on a book by Isidore Zolotarefsky, Love and Sacrifice is a prime example of shund—escapist melodrama born on the Yiddish stage. Shot over two days in a New York City loft on a miniscule budget, the film portrays a long-suffering middle-class matron who goes to prison for shooting the man who compromises her. Producer Joseph Seiden described it in his original advertising copy as follows: “You’ll see a tender yet mighty picture drama. Hot with a living breath of a story as old as the ages, new as tomorrow!” Love and Sacrifice was restored by The National Center for Jewish Film."
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From left to right, Aviva Weintraub (The Jewish Museum, NYJFF Director), Sharon Rivo (Executive Director, National Center for Jewish Film, Brandeis University), and Esta Salzmann
(Yiddish theater and film actress; one of the stars of the film).

Photo: Elliott Rivo

Photo: David Paul

Gabriela Böhm Discusses Her Documentary, "The Longing: The Forgotten Jews of South America"

"'The Longing' is a moving documentary portrait of South Americans who, after discovering that their Jewish ancestors converted to Catholicism during the Spanish Inquisition, undertake profound, personal journeys of faith. Dismissed by local Jewish authorities, these determined men and women choose to study via the Internet with an American Reform rabbi who ultimately arrives in Ecuador to complete the conversion."


I spoke with Gabriela Böhm, whose documentary “The Longing: The Forgotten Jews of
South America,” has its World Premiere at the NYJFF.

Would you tell us more about what brought you to this project?

I was born in Argentina to parents who emigrated after the war from Eastern Europe. Then when my parents divorced, my mother took us to Israel, where I lived for ten years.

Later, as a film student at NYU, I heard an NPR show about crypto-Jews in New Mexico, which fascinated me. At the time I was still a student, and the issue’s richness and complexity put it a little out of my reach. But, years later I returned to that idea of crypto-Jews who believed they were the descendants of forced converts from the Inquisition. I wanted to find out why these people believed they were descendants, and what drove those who wanted to pursue Judaism.

What were some of the fundamental themes you wanted to explore?
The question of identity is really important to me: how people construct identity, what constitutes the pillars of one’s identity. And the people in my film lived in what I call a ‘dual identity process,’ as descendants of Jews who survived the Spanish and Portuguese Inquisition and expulsion. Their relatives had to choose how to live, how to keep their traditions alive, while continuing to be Catholics on the outside. More than the real Catholics, they had to be very involved in the Church and the Catholic community to avoid suspicion, and on the inside, as forced converts, they lived out a secret identity.

Any written communication was risky: they could be tortured and killed for it; so Judaism lived on through the oral tradition. And traditions began to mutate as they embellished the existing ones, but some standards remained: not eating pork, lighting candles for Shabbat, not going to church during one’s menstrual period. It was unclear to the children why they observed these traditions but they passed them on just the same.

The few who care and begin to research their backgrounds, remark that they've noticed something in their fiber, if you will, that feels Jewish. This is not a scientific question, this is not an academic question, this is a question of feeling. And that is why it interests me so much: this question of what makes us who we are, what really forms our identity. What makes one a Jew?

Why did they identify these feelings with an essential Jewishness?
People who search for their identity are people who are looking for something concrete. All of us have this desire. The people in my film all spoke of returning home, not as a literal place but as a means of grounding, of a relationship to god they did not feel with Christianity. Part of this experience was identifying with Judaism. In any event, I think it’s a miracle for these people to be feeling a connection to Judaism so many centuries after their families were forced to convert.

“The Longing” maintains an expertly neutral tone throughout, but curiosity left me wondering where you stood…
It was very important for me to stay neutral: I didn't want to be some accusing hand because I feel we all make choices and need to take responsibility. I wanted to be there for their quest for acceptance, and to tell their story. Their hearts were set, and I felt for them.

You know, I don’t believe in answering questions so much as asking them. That makes me a Jew I guess. We really don’t like answering questions unless it’s with a question. This provides an environment with more discussion and investigation.

The prospective converts encounter tremendous resistance from the local Jewish councils…
Of course, I didn’t know that their story would take the path it did, that they would encounter such obstacles. As I filmed, I realized there was a strong reaction on my part, that I really was appalled by what they had to face. Even after completing the film, I am left with a lot of questions as to why things happened as they did. At the time I felt it had to do with the socio-economic difference between the two groups. Certainly they looked different: the prospective converts are mestizos, a mix between Indian and Spanish, so the mainly Ashkenazic council members couldn’t really identify with them as brothers. You know, Jews like to identify with one another as brothers, and here they couldn’t.
And one thing that struck me was how very Catholic the gestures and prayers of potential converts were.
Absolutely, this was interesting to me because they were affected by the Catholic environment at all levels, and they bring it with them even into their new Jewish lives. But, as the rabbi in the film says, if they were already Jews they would be like us, but since they are new to Judaism they bring with them a new relationship with god, a new love for god that we are not familiar with. And there is some iconography that gets blended into their behavior.

So, as much as they feel they are Jews, as much as they want to be, they are not recognized as Jews, even though have been become Jews. But will they ever be able to know how a Jew behaves if they are never allowed in the Jewish sanctuary? Only through participation could they learn? In this sense I sympathize with them. In Israel, they ask the same questions: are the Ethiopian Jews really Jews? I ask, how do we know?

How did you get to know the rabbi who helps the prospective converts?
I have amassed a lot of contacts as I’ve been researching this for a few years. The leading expert on Brazilian Jews put me into contact Rabbi Cukierkorn.

What are the lives of Jews like in Ecuador and Columbia?
For the cryto-Jews it is a very difficult road, even more so for those who converted. They have taken a stand, but they will not be part of the Jewish community. For what I’m told, they plan to form an association of crypto-Jews to worship together. This will be very difficult.

The local Jewish communities are very selective and exclusive. They are like a club. They can do whatever they like since they have their own guidelines. They mingle with those on the same social level, and marry within these ranks. Not so much in Argentina, but elsewhere in South America, it’s a ghetto-like experience.

Are they subject to anti-Semitic violence?
During the dictatorship in Argentina, they were. In fact, my young student cousins were among those murdered. Yet I don’t think there is active anti-Semitism in South America but I do feel the crypto-Jews will really suffer marginalization and that they will never find their place as things currently stand.

One last thing I wanted to say is that I have never seen a film where the actual process of conversion is shown. I’ve seen photographs from before and after the mikvah, but to be there inside the process, the rabbinical trial, I think this is an aspect of my film that might be interesting for many people.

"The Longing: The Forgotten Jews of South America" screens at Lincoln Center on Monday Jan. 22nd at 4PM and Tuesday Jan. 23rd at 1:30 & 6.

To find out more about Gabriela Böhm and her films, please visit www.bohmproductions.com.

Please see the NYJFF in The News section of this blog for more press about "The Longing: The Forgotten Jews of South America," including her interview with Robin Cembalest in Nextbook.

The Directors Party!

Thursday night, after screening "Four Weeks in June," we headed over to Makor for the NYJFF Directors Party! Here are some photos from the evening...

La Laque provided the music...


Director Lisa Azuelos

From left to right, NYJFF Director Gabriela Bohm ("The Longing"), Leslie Yerman, and Leslie Friedman

From left to right: Writer Robin Cembalest, Jon Robbins (me), and Director Gabriela Bohm

Aviva Weintraub (The Jewish Museum/NYJFF Director)
and Irene Richard (Film Society of Lincoln Center).

Livia Bloom (American Museum of the Moving Image)
and Elliott Malkin (My Bris/Family Movie NYJFF 2005)


Ali Siegler (Makor) and filmmaker Alan Berliner
(Intimate Stranger/Nobody's Business NYJFF 1997)


Carlos Guitterez (Cinema Tropical) and Andrew
Ingall (The Jewish Museum)

Aviva Weintraub (The Jewish Museum/NYJFF Director) and Henry Meyer (Director, "Four Weeks in June")


Part I: Director Alejandro Springall on Judaism, Mexico, Filmmaking, and “My Mexican Shivah"

As a producer, Alejandro Springall’s films have been nominated for an Oscar, and as a director he has won various awards, including Sundance’s Latin American Cinema Award and the Grand Prix de la Découverte for his 1999 “Santitos.”

Alejandro bought me some chamomile tea and told me about Judaism, Mexico, filmmaking, and “My Mexican Shivah”…

-Interview by Jon Robbins

How does your film fit into today’s Mexican cinema?
Right now there’s a lot of expectation from Mexican cinema and Mexican filmmakers. For the moment, I am exempt since my film is completely out of any Mexican canon. Still, it reflects the rainbow of themes there is right now in Mexico cinema. For instance Judaism in Mexico and other topics that weren’t touched before are starting to emerge. For the NYJFF at Lincoln Center we sold out every screening, they had to return people! This is a good sign for Mexico. I was really happy to see such large turnout at the New York Jewish Film Festival.

“My Mexican Shivah” is Chekhovian comedy where there’s comedy and there’s drama. So it’s unique on this count alone. In fact, it is only the second Jewish-themed film from Mexico--the first being “Like a Bride”--“My Mexican Shivah” is the very first about Yiddish-speaking Ashkenazim. The one private screening we had in Mexico City already created a lot of talk, and Jews talk a lot, thankfully.

Is there a consciousness of European history in Mexico from a Jewish perspective?
Absolutely. Most of the Ashkenazic immigration was Polish, Lithuanian, Russian; it’s people who came from the Shtetl, fleeing pogroms as early as the 19th century and into the 1920s and 30s, and then certainly after the war, but that was the smallest part.

We have a Museum of Tolerance, focused on the Holocaust and genocides throughout the world, and also on the different kinds of intolerance in Mexican history, discrimination against indigenous peoples, especially. It’s opening late this year in downtown Mexico City.

Jews in Mexico can have a very good life because it’s a country that supports liberty. Former president Vicente Fox had four ministers of Jewish descent; The head of the Federal Electoral Institute, which acts like a fourth branch in Mexican government, an architect of democracy in Mexico, is Jewish. The Jewish presence is respected and active in public life.

At one point there was the idea of creating the Jewish state in Baja, and there were discussions with Mexican government. Also, the Jewish community in Mexico has supported the state of Israel. And Mexico was one of the first countries to recognize Israel, and Mexico was the only Latin American Country that openly declared war on the 3rd Reich and who opened its doors to immigration from Jews fleeing Europe, and that is something the Jewish community in Mexico appreciates. And in turn, the Mexican government is appreciative of the Jewish community, and guarantees free Jewish life and pursues any act of anti Semitism.

There is hardly any overt anti-Semitism in Mexico; that’s very controlled. But remember that Mexico has a history of immigration different from other Latin American countries and from the US. Since its independence in 1821, slavery was outlawed and religious freedom was guaranteed.

What drew you to make a film about Jews and a film about a Shivah?
My first motivation was to make a family drama that took place in one location. Now I've always had a fascination for Jewish rituals…

I have a Jewish grandmother, and though I didn’t grow up as a Jew, I have one foot in the community. Of course I’ve been to a lot of Shivot in my life, and it occurred to me that the Shivah was a great ritual that had an incredible dramatic engine. For me, the purpose of the ritual is to find some spiritual well-being, and to decontaminate from death in order to mourn and thus continue with life. People who sit Shivah, the Avelim start in one emotional state, and after the seven days there has been a radical change.

I said to myself it was time to make a film about the Jewish community; that Mexico has developed enough and has become ever more present internationally, and that a lot of eyes are turning to Mexican cinema. All these ingredients made me want to do it.

We were talking casually the other day, and you remarked how different “My Mexican Shivah” was from your previous film, “Santitos” [Traveling Saints]…
Santitos was the opposite of “My Mexican Shivah”: the conflict rages because there is no ritual; there is death, but there is no means for resolution. There is no process for the loss. With “My Mexican Shivah” it is the opposite: the conflict arises because of a strictly regimented ritual. Also, I used 82 sets for "Santitos"! "My Mexican Shivah"mostly takes place in one apartment.

But in both films we have extremely Mexican characters: “Santitos” is not a religious movie either; it’s about the devotion of a woman to her saints, not Catholicism per se; in Mexico we inherited this devotion to saints from the early polytheistic religions. And with Judaism I wanted to add a third religion, to connote Mexico, really, where you see religious sites with all kinds of motifs—pre-Hispanic stuff, Judaism--where there is true religious syncretism.

The country allows what I call the “religious Paella,” but there is always a way to find a logic, and a fundament; Mexico is the blend of cultures: pre-Columbian, Spanish, but in the 19th century, French, and then the influences of commerce with China, Japan, and India. So we have that heritage. After all, the New Spain was the most important colony on the continent.

And also we should recall that the first Jews who arrived in Cuba and Mexico were fleeing Spain; Yes, the first Jews arrived with Cortez in 1521. Mexico City has the second oldest synagogue in the Americas! And since 1821 it has been recognized and open: the pogroms STARTED in 1860! Mexico has always been an extremely free country. No, I think the problems here are not about freedom but about social and economic differences.

When I spoke to Ilan Stavans, who wrote the short story on which “My Mexican Shivah” is based, he commented that Jews live freely in Mexico but are not “protagonists in the history of their country, the way they are in the U.S.” What do you think?
I believe that Jews are. Before now no, but there wasn’t that interest in it either.

They’ve always been protagonists in the sense that great lawyers and doctors are, but you don’t become a protagonist until you become a politician and Jews have become politicians only in the last 12 years. That’s what I think. You see, there were only ever a few cases where being Jewish prohibited you from being X; One cannot say this was ever part of the Jewish experience in Mexico.

Never has a Jewish temple been closed in Mexico, and despite the constitutional law that the government owns all temples, synagogues are NOT owned by the government; they respect the synagogues, and hillels and midrashes. And despite the law that education must be secular, Jews were always able to maintain religious schools. This is the first article in our constitution: no slavery, and full religious freedom.

Although in society, I can tell you, there is some anti-Semitism but it is a religious anti-Semitism. It comes from the horrible Catholic tradition of the Theocide. There is of course the type of anti-Semitism you have where people say “Oh you’re half Jewish Alejandro, I like Jews. I fact some of my best friends are Jews!” They don’t even know how deep this problem runs. But in the press you don’t see comments like that because of the Jewish Central Committee, which really works to educate and to keep anti-Semitic discourse out of public discourse.

No, there is no big difference between Jews and Mexicans like there is in the US, which is very anti-Semitic outside the large cities. I myself have investigated anti-Semitism on the Internet, and have found many chat rooms to be full of anti-Semitic discourse. I feel that American Jewry is in deep crisis, and not just because of intermarriage. To be a true American, you have to get rid of your past, this is part of the American dream: "We don’t look back we look forward,” which, I believe, makes younger Jews care a lot less about their religious background. However, in Mexico there is a lot of effort in the Jewish community to preserve their culture, and there is a lot less intermarriage. 80% of Jewish children in Mexico attend Jewish schools, in fact.

“My Mexican Shivah” has a unique visual style. The camera is an outsider, an “eavesdropper,” as you put it. Would you talk about this approach? How much of it is a product of the excellent acting?
I rehearsed a lot with the actors so they would really have the characters in their skin. The film wasn’t acted for takes. This allowed me to spend all set-time creating a naturalistic life for “Shivah” and to have the camera move with a lot more freedom. This way, I would catch bits and pieces of something that was actually happening.

Many times I used two cameras. I would run the entire scene knowing how I wanted to fragment it, so I would cover it in full takes. There was no performing for a certain cut. I just picked it all up with a very close camera and a POV, depending on what I thought of the scene. In some scenes we have to be very close to the character, we are their intimate, and then when it comes time to follow up on the general action, I switch to the POV.

Would you give an example of this technique?
For example, when Ari arrives with the kids: we are part of the turmoil, and it’s handheld and it’s brisk cutting. Like any Jewish family, everyone’s speaking at the same time. The camera is in the epicenter of the turmoil, so that the audience would be there and that would strengthen their emotional relationship with the whole Shivah.

The important thing was to be close or distant enough, and then to jump into the middle of the scene as that other characters, the camera. 85% of the movie takes place in one apartment so I had to avoid this feeling of claustrophobia, but also to go in and out in a certain way so the audience somehow feels it, too. To me it wasn’t very mise-en-scene but more documentary.

What about the music by the Klezmatics, wasn’t that mise-en-scene?
But the music helps with the atmosphere. It’s very specific, at certain transitions, in certain scenes, it keeps us attached to the Shivah and Jewishness.

Was that a concern?
I made this movie for Mexican audiences, non-Jewish audiences; I think non-Jews relate to the movie by way of these elements. I tried to communicate how this Shivah smells, sounds, and tastes by way of certain elements. How are the nights, how are the days, what do you eat? How’s the light? I had to give the most I could, I had to introduce Jewishness to the Mexican audience, and of course Jews who watch the movie pick up on many of these elements.

There is an aspect to the film that only Jews can understand, and there are a few elements that only very observant Jews notice and appreciate, like when the son and father recite the Kaddish. I had great council: two rabbi friends of mine helped me to plan the details.

We had one screening in Mexico City, but the World Premiere was here at the NYJFF. The non-Jewish audiences find it to be funnier; there is less time spent identifying and comparing. You see, that’s why I killed a grandfather distant to his family, and not a young boy. I’ve been to the worst and most tragic Shivot, and it was awful; that would have been inappropriate for my film. I wanted to open the door to a Jewish ritual which otherwise you cannot see, so people could watch and say a Jewish family is like any other. This is important to me because most prejudice is based on ignorance. Which was the thing my dad, who is Jewish, appreciated the most; that "My Mexiican Shivah" shows there is nothing cryptic about the Jewish experience.

Like Ilan Stavans says, ‘Jews are like any other human being, just a little bit more.’ Jewish rituals are very intense, and I wanted to communicate this. Look how beautiful, how wise, how old this ritual is, but also how right it is, how efficient. Everybody should have Shivot in their families, with their own prayers, their own religions; those seven days, man, they’re magical!

Maybe my next movie will be about a Bris: people think it’s a horrible thing to do, but I always show off my own Bris photos—that was one thing my father would not negotiate on. It’s one of the happiest rituals of them all. Men especially get very happy.

Please check back in the next few days for Part II of my interview with Alejandro Springall.


Part I: Director Alejandro Springall on Judaism, Mexico, Filmmaking, and “My Mexican Shivah"

As a producer, Alejandro Springall’s films have been nominated for an Oscar, and as a director he has won various awards, including Sundance’s Latin American Cinema Award and the Grand Prix de la Découverte for his 1999 “Santitos.”

Alejandro bought me some chamomile tea and told me about Judaism, Mexico, filmmaking, and “My Mexican Shivah”…

-Interview by Jon Robbins

How does your film fit into today’s Mexican cinema?
Right now there’s a lot of expectation from Mexican cinema and Mexican filmmakers. For the moment, I am exempt since my film is completely out of any Mexican canon. Still, it reflects the rainbow of themes there is right now in Mexico cinema. For instance Judaism in Mexico and other topics that weren’t touched before are starting to emerge. For the NYJFF at Lincoln Center we sold out every screening, they had to return people! This is a good sign for Mexico. I was really happy to see such large turnout at the New York Jewish Film Festival.

“My Mexican Shivah” is Chekhovian comedy where there’s comedy and there’s drama. So it’s unique on this count alone. In fact, it is only the second Jewish-themed film from Mexico--the first being “Like a Bride”--“My Mexican Shivah” is the very first about Yiddish-speaking Ashkenazim. The one private screening we had in Mexico City already created a lot of talk, and Jews talk a lot, thankfully.

Is there a consciousness of European history in Mexico from a Jewish perspective?
Absolutely. Most of the Ashkenazic immigration was Polish, Lithuanian, Russian; it’s people who came from the Shtetl, fleeing pogroms as early as the 19th century and into the 1920s and 30s, and then certainly after the war, but that was the smallest part.

We have a Museum of Tolerance, focused on the Holocaust and genocides throughout the world, and also on the different kinds of intolerance in Mexican history, discrimination against indigenous peoples, especially. It’s opening late this year in downtown Mexico City.

Jews in Mexico can have a very good life because it’s a country that supports liberty. Former president Vicente Fox had four ministers of Jewish descent; The head of the Federal Electoral Institute, which acts like a fourth branch in Mexican government, an architect of democracy in Mexico, is Jewish. The Jewish presence is respected and active in public life.

At one point there was the idea of creating the Jewish state in Baja, and there were discussions with Mexican government. Also, the Jewish community in Mexico has supported the state of Israel. And Mexico was one of the first countries to recognize Israel, and Mexico was the only Latin American Country that openly declared war on the 3rd Reich and who opened its doors to immigration from Jews fleeing Europe, and that is something the Jewish community in Mexico appreciates. And in turn, the Mexican government is appreciative of the Jewish community, and guarantees free Jewish life and pursues any act of anti Semitism.

There is hardly any overt anti-Semitism in Mexico; that’s very controlled. But remember that Mexico has a history of immigration different from other Latin American countries and from the US. Since its independence in 1821, slavery was outlawed and religious freedom was guaranteed.

What drew you to make a film about Jews and a film about a Shivah?
My first motivation was to make a family drama that took place in one location. Now I've always had a fascination for Jewish rituals…

I have a Jewish grandmother, and though I didn’t grow up as a Jew, I have one foot in the community. Of course I’ve been to a lot of Shivot in my life, and it occurred to me that the Shivah was a great ritual that had an incredible dramatic engine. For me, the purpose of the ritual is to find some spiritual well-being, and to decontaminate from death in order to mourn and thus continue with life. People who sit Shivah, the Avelim start in one emotional state, and after the seven days there has been a radical change.

I said to myself it was time to make a film about the Jewish community; that Mexico has developed enough and has become ever more present internationally, and that a lot of eyes are turning to Mexican cinema. All these ingredients made me want to do it.

We were talking casually the other day, and you remarked how different “My Mexican Shivah” was from your previous film, “Santitos” [Traveling Saints]…
Santitos was the opposite of “My Mexican Shivah”: the conflict rages because there is no ritual; there is death, but there is no means for resolution. There is no process for the loss. With “My Mexican Shivah” it is the opposite: the conflict arises because of a strictly regimented ritual. Also, I used 82 sets for "Santitos"! "My Mexican Shivah"mostly takes place in one apartment.

But in both films we have extremely Mexican characters: “Santitos” is not a religious movie either; it’s about the devotion of a woman to her saints, not Catholicism per se; in Mexico we inherited this devotion to saints from the early polytheistic religions. And with Judaism I wanted to add a third religion, to connote Mexico, really, where you see religious sites with all kinds of motifs—pre-Hispanic stuff, Judaism--where there is true religious syncretism.

The country allows what I call the “religious Paella,” but there is always a way to find a logic, and a fundament; Mexico is the blend of cultures: pre-Columbian, Spanish, but in the 19th century, French, and then the influences of commerce with China, Japan, and India. So we have that heritage. After all, the New Spain was the most important colony on the continent.

And also we should recall that the first Jews who arrived in Cuba and Mexico were fleeing Spain; Yes, the first Jews arrived with Cortez in 1521. Mexico City has the second oldest synagogue in the Americas! And since 1821 it has been recognized and open: the pogroms STARTED in 1860! Mexico has always been an extremely free country. No, I think the problems here are not about freedom but about social and economic differences.

When I spoke to Ilan Stavans, who wrote the short story on which “My Mexican Shivah” is based, he commented that Jews live freely in Mexico but are not “protagonists in the history of their country, the way they are in the U.S.” What do you think?
I believe that Jews are. Before now no, but there wasn’t that interest in it either.

They’ve always been protagonists in the sense that great lawyers and doctors are, but you don’t become a protagonist until you become a politician and Jews have become politicians only in the last 12 years. That’s what I think. You see, there were only ever a few cases where being Jewish prohibited you from being X; One cannot say this was ever part of the Jewish experience in Mexico.

Never has a Jewish temple been closed in Mexico, and despite the constitutional law that the government owns all temples, synagogues are NOT owned by the government; they respect the synagogues, and hillels and midrashes. And despite the law that education must be secular, Jews were always able to maintain religious schools. This is the first article in our constitution: no slavery, and full religious freedom.

Although in society, I can tell you, there is some anti-Semitism but it is a religious anti-Semitism. It comes from the horrible Catholic tradition of the Theocide. There is of course the type of anti-Semitism you have where people say “Oh you’re half Jewish Alejandro, I like Jews. I fact some of my best friends are Jews!” They don’t even know how deep this problem runs. But in the press you don’t see comments like that because of the Jewish Central Committee, which really works to educate and to keep anti-Semitic discourse out of public discourse.

No, there is no big difference between Jews and Mexicans like there is in the US, which is very anti-Semitic outside the large cities. I myself have investigated anti-Semitism on the Internet, and have found many chat rooms to be full of anti-Semitic discourse. I feel that American Jewry is in deep crisis, and not just because of intermarriage. To be a true American, you have to get rid of your past, this is part of the American dream: "We don’t look back we look forward,” which, I believe, makes younger Jews care a lot less about their religious background. However, in Mexico there is a lot of effort in the Jewish community to preserve their culture, and there is a lot less intermarriage. 80% of Jewish children in Mexico attend Jewish schools, in fact.

“My Mexican Shivah” has a unique visual style. The camera is an outsider, an “eavesdropper,” as you put it. Would you talk about this approach? How much of it is a product of the excellent acting?
I rehearsed a lot with the actors so they would really have the characters in their skin. The film wasn’t acted for takes. This allowed me to spend all set-time creating a naturalistic life for “Shivah” and to have the camera move with a lot more freedom. This way, I would catch bits and pieces of something that was actually happening.

Many times I used two cameras. I would run the entire scene knowing how I wanted to fragment it, so I would cover it in full takes. There was no performing for a certain cut. I just picked it all up with a very close camera and a POV, depending on what I thought of the scene. In some scenes we have to be very close to the character, we are their intimate, and then when it comes time to follow up on the general action, I switch to the POV.

Would you give an example of this technique?
For example, when Ari arrives with the kids: we are part of the turmoil, and it’s handheld and it’s brisk cutting. Like any Jewish family, everyone’s speaking at the same time. The camera is in the epicenter of the turmoil, so that the audience would be there and that would strengthen their emotional relationship with the whole Shivah.

The important thing was to be close or distant enough, and then to jump into the middle of the scene as that other characters, the camera. 85% of the movie takes place in one apartment so I had to avoid this feeling of claustrophobia, but also to go in and out in a certain way so the audience somehow feels it, too. To me it wasn’t very mise-en-scene but more documentary.

What about the music by the Klezmatics, wasn’t that mise-en-scene?
But the music helps with the atmosphere. It’s very specific, at certain transitions, in certain scenes, it keeps us attached to the Shivah and Jewishness.

Was that a concern?
I made this movie for Mexican audiences, non-Jewish audiences; I think non-Jews relate to the movie by way of these elements. I tried to communicate how this Shivah smells, sounds, and tastes by way of certain elements. How are the nights, how are the days, what do you eat? How’s the light? I had to give the most I could, I had to introduce Jewishness to the Mexican audience, and of course Jews who watch the movie pick up on many of these elements.

There is an aspect to the film that only Jews can understand, and there are a few elements that only very observant Jews notice and appreciate, like when the son and father recite the Kaddish. I had great council: two rabbi friends of mine helped me to plan the details.

We had one screening in Mexico City, but the World Premiere was here at the NYJFF. The non-Jewish audiences find it to be funnier; there is less time spent identifying and comparing. You see, that’s why I killed a grandfather distant to his family, and not a young boy. I’ve been to the worst and most tragic Shivot, and it was awful; that would have been inappropriate for my film. I wanted to open the door to a Jewish ritual which otherwise you cannot see, so people could watch and say a Jewish family is like any other. This is important to me because most prejudice is based on ignorance. Which was the thing my dad, who is Jewish, appreciated the most; that "My Mexiican Shivah" shows there is nothing cryptic about the Jewish experience.

Like Ilan Stavans says, ‘Jews are like any other human being, just a little bit more.’ Jewish rituals are very intense, and I wanted to communicate this. Look how beautiful, how wise, how old this ritual is, but also how right it is, how efficient. Everybody should have Shivot in their families, with their own prayers, their own religions; those seven days, man, they’re magical!

Maybe my next movie will be about a Bris: people think it’s a horrible thing to do, but I always show off my own Bris photos—that was one thing my father would not negotiate on. It’s one of the happiest rituals of them all. Men especially get very happy.

Please check back in the next few days for Part II of my interview with Alejandro Springall.


Kristi Jacobson on Her Grandfather and Her Film, "Toots"

Larger-than-life Bernard "Toots" Shor cut his teeth in Prohibition Era New York. He mixed with the toughest elements in loan sharking, gambling, and bootlegging, and no one was tougher, gruffer, or more charming. Toots Shor loved the city of New York and loved running his famous restaurant and club on West 51st, named Toots, of course. Come discover a simpler New York bounding back from the War with booze, celebrities, sports, and an intense optimism embodied in Toots' private club. The Yankees, Jackie Gleason, and Frank Sinatra were all personal friends, and Walter Cronkite, Mike Walace, Lauren Bacall, Yogi Berra, and Whitey Ford all have good things to say; but Toots had demons, too. In her documentary film, Toots Shor's granddaughter explores and celebrates his life.


Kristi Jacobson has been working in documentaries for over ten years, and has made a number of television documentaries, but “Toots” is the first truly independent film that she has produced and directed.

I really liked the way you told the story of “Toots.” How did you approach the narrative strategy?

I’m especially pleased to hear that because figuring out how to do the narrative was far and away my biggest challenge. Mostly because I didn’t want to start the film in 1903 when Toots was born in Philadelphia because I knew I wanted to engage people in the era, in that heyday. The structure of the film really came to be in the editing process where my editors were instrumental. It was a really collaborative process.

Was there a script?
No, I only had my idea of what I wanted from the film. But we really worked the material and tried to create a narrative arc like in fiction films, with our feeling and instinct for the material. In fact one of our most important breakthroughs was realizing that New York was as much a character in the film as Toots was, and to make sure that we could interweave the two as they were in real life. I learned filmmaking from my mentor, Barbara Kopple, a legend in cinéma vérité, and I tried to bring that ‘Let’s let the material drive us’ ethos to “Toots.”

And it was especially interesting to see New York in your film, for instance when the city went broke.
As a New Yorker I had an incredible experience getting to know my city from the 30s to the 60s. And all that stuff is still a part of the sidewalks and the buildings, part of the water towers and the life of New York City, which, by the way, I think is the greatest city in the world even if it isn’t as great as it was then.

You showed the good and the bad of the city and of your grandfather.
I didn’t want to make a puff piece. Going in, I knew my grandfather had ties to the Mob, but I didn’t know how deep they ran. It was really important for to get to the bottom of that, and to bring it to the audience. Also, I didn’t go in with a preconceived idea of who my grandfather was; I wanted to discover him as I made the film. So I tried to present the good, the bad, and the ugly.

It was really hard. Someone asked me whether I’d been turned down for interviews. In fact the only people who turned me down were those who specifically did not like Toots. For instance, Joe Namath had noted in his biography that he didn’t like Toots and that he had no interest in a restaurant full of old geezers, that there were no chicks there. So I wanted to interview him because he represented an entire group of people who were important in the demise of Toots. I approached him with various important people and he did not want to do the interview. There was also someone who had written bad things about Toots and when I interviewed him he wouldn’t talk about it. All this made me quite determined.

Are you connecting this reticence with organized crime?
No, I think it has more to do with the fact that my grandfather was so beloved in the sports world, that to criticize him publicly isn’t gonna make you any friends. But it was frustrating as a filmmaker to dig through it all to get to that "other side" of Toots, which was really a big part of him.

How did you prepare for “Toots?”
“Toots” was a challenge to me because it was neither issue-based nor cinéma vérité, my milieu for ten years. So I watched a lot of film, and one that really influenced me was “The Life and Times of Hank Greenberg.” That’s what I love about filmmaking—I’ve made films about the Teamsters union and about women survivors of sexual abuse—there was something fun and new about “Toots.”

What’s next for you?
I’ll be doing a film about reform in the juvenile justice system in Washington, D.C. as a logical follow-up to “Toots.” And so I’m sticking with my cinéma vérité roots and branching out to historical topics as I’ve learned that not only is it important to tell stories of injustice but to engage with history. And if it makes people smile instead of cry, that’s okay.

When does "Toots" hit the theaters?
It's coming out in September of 2007. Neil Friedman at Menemsha Films really gets "Toots" and I’m very excited about that. His distribution model really fits the film.

Jon Robbins and Kristi Jacobson

Where did you get all that great archival footage?
The Oral History Recordings at Columbia University were of tremendous help. They had eight hours of audio footage of my grandfather! Getty worked with us as well, and we had a researcher there who did incredible work to get us footage. He was really determined to get new footage, which was exactly what I was trying to do, to bring the past alive. I had two great researchers on my team, too. And then, when it came time to get permisoon to use footage from people like Mike Wallace, it really helped to be Toots Shor’s granddaughter. There were a lot of people in high places who helped to free up materials for us. The Sinatra family was especially generous in allowing us to use “Come Fly With Me” in the interview with Frank.

You can find out more about "Toots" and filmmaker Kristi Jacobson at http://www.tootsthemovie.com/