The Commish Takes a Darker Turn in Season Three

This year, thanks to my friend Libbie, my parents and I have enjoyed reacquainting ourselves with the 1990s cop show The Commish, starring Michael Chiklis as Tony Scali, a police commissioner in the fictional New York town of Eastbridge. Tony is a personable guy in his late 30s who’s a bit out of shape and overweight but won’t let that stop him from getting down to the nitty gritty on cases. Meanwhile, despite his rigorous schedule that often involves going out on calls in the middle of the night, Tony makes time for his beloved wife Rachel (Theresa Saldana) and son David (Kaj-Erik Eriksen), and in the third season, he also has a new baby, Sarah, to occupy his attention.

Season three, which at this time is available only as part of a full-series boxed set or for download on iTunes, begins with a conflict reminding me of the recently concluded drama Friday Night Lights. Rachel is just as career-driven as Tony is, and at the end of the second season, she gets an out-of-town job offer she can’t bear to pass up. Tony, meanwhile, is unwilling to leave his job as commissioner, so they decide to try a commuter marriage, only seeing each other on the weekends. That’s how season three begins, and it’s a pretty miserable situation for them both, but in the process of trying to fix the family, Tony finds himself without a job and sleuthing on the side, much to the disapproval of the new commissioner. How will he manage a return to the job he loves so much?

Like season two, season three has two major side characters at the precinct: earnest Stan Kelly (Geoffrey Nauffts) and clever Cyd Madison (Melinda McGraw). In this season, we see how dedicated both of them are to their boss, and they both deal with major workplace challenges and unsettling romantic entanglements. While other officers move in and out of prominence, these two are always near the forefront. Curiously, street-smart Carmela’s last episode is the season two finale, and if there was a reason given for her absence, I missed it. While Cyd continues to be a strong supporting player, I miss Carmela’s no-nonsense presence.

As with previous seasons, the third includes a mix of the serious and the silly, though it seems to tip more heavily in favor of the somber this time around, particularly toward the end, which takes a major turn for the tragic. It delves into some heavy topics throughout the season. For instance, in one episode, a gay officer is forced to out himself in order to fill out a report that will provide crucial evidence on a case, and the rest of the department, particularly his longtime patrol partner, has a difficult time coming to grips with this revelation. In another, Tony tries to help an elderly Japanese restaurant owner and a shopkeeper who fought in World War II overcome their deep-seated prejudices to work together to bring down some vandals.

In this season, David’s first serious romantic relationship is tested by the revelation of the violent activities of his girlfriend’s father. Called Romeo and Juliet, this episode marks a major turning point for David, as it concludes with his bar mitzvah, an event to which the series had been building up for some time. Equally iconic are the final two episodes, which mark the conclusion of the story arc of one of the series’ longstanding characters.

Despite all the darkness in this third season, there is still room for levity as Tony works to solve the most puzzling unsolved mysteries in town. Most of these episodes can be taken out of order, but the really powerful ones will lose some of their punch if you haven’t lived with these characters for a while, so I still recommend starting with season one. If you do, you should find season three of The Commish well worth the wait.

The Maccabeats Provide Rich Hebrew Harmonies on Voices From the Heights

Last year, I became aware of the Maccabeats, the Jewish a cappella group from Yeshiva University that created the YouTube sensation Candlelight, a tribute to Hanukkah to the tune of the Taio Cruz song Dynamite. Months later, I enjoyed their second holiday video, this time an homage to Purim set to Pink’s Raise Your Glass, but it wasn’t until this fall that I discovered that the group had recorded an entire album.

Given my love of harmony and my fascination with Judaism, to say nothing of how impressed I was with the two songs of theirs that I had already heard, I wanted to hear more than the few quick samples that were freely available, so I decided to download Voices From the Heights, the 12-track album this 14-member men’s group released in early 2010. Featuring the vocal talents of Chanina Abramowitz, David Block, Michael Greenberg, Noey Jacobson, Josh Jay, Nachum Joel, Ari Lewis, Mordy Prus, Jeff Ritholtz, Buri Rosenberg, Meir Shapiro and Yonatan Shefa under the direction of Julian Horowitz and Immanuel Shalev, the album includes a mix of sacred, traditional and pop music.

Despite the amount of time I spend on the computer, CD is still the format I tend to prefer for my music, so I haven’t mastered the ins and outs of MP3s yet. Hence, it’s possible I missed something, but as far as I can tell, buying this album does not entitle the downloader to any sort of information about the album beyond the track list. Lyrics, explanations of songs and names of the performers are all absent, and I had to do quite a bit of searching to sniff some of these out. I’m not sure if it’s any different with the physical copies of the CD, which don’t seem to be available at this time, but a little something in the way of album notes would have been nice here, especially since nine of the 12 songs are sung in Hebrew.

I’m only complaining, though, because these songs are so gorgeously done and it would be nice to have a more solid idea of what they are saying. While the Hanukkah and Purim songs have a contemporary and light-hearted feel to them, especially when the videos are factored in, nothing on this album has a comical edge to it. However, there is some variation in tone and style, with some songs feeling somber and others upbeat. Hebrew is a beautiful language, and when I listen to most of the songs here it makes me want to become more familiar with it. I can’t see myself singing along anytime soon, but the intricate arrangements certainly are a delight for the ears.

It’s a nice gesture to folks like me who don’t understand Hebrew that three of the songs are in plain old English. One of these is the closing track, One Day, originally performed by Matisyahu, a Hasidic reggae singer who conceived it as an anthem of hope and peace. It makes a very optimistic way to end the album as they sing, with just a hint of Jamaican accents, of their desire for harmony and joy among people. A very altruistic song. Countering the buoyant feeling of this track is the venting of Daniel Powter’s Bad Day, which became a mega-hit in part because it was used to accompany the departures of American Idol contestants during the show’s fifth season. This one has a more melancholy edge to it, but it’s still incredibly catchy with lots of doo-woppy back-up.

My favorite of the English tracks, however, is Go the Distance. While I enjoyed the late 1990s Disney animated feature Hercules well enough, this song was the only moment in the movie that I absolutely loved. I just found the music gorgeous and the sentiment stirring. This song has a very different feel than the others on the album because it feels like we are getting the plaintive personality of an individual, whereas the rest of the tracks seem to reflect more of a group mentality. That’s not to say that the soloist doesn’t have a rich wall of back-up here, but his expressive tone and the slight liberties he takes with the melody make this really feel like his song, which takes on interesting layers in this specifically Jewish context.

Two of the Hebrew songs sounded familiar to me despite my inability to understand the words. I assumed at first that Lecha Dodi was simply a Hebrew translation of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, but I discovered that the lyrics are actually an ancient Sabbath prayer composed in the 1500s by Rabbi Shlomo Alkabetz. The song feels fervent and reverent as the voices build on each other, weaving poignant harmonies revealing depths of passion. The next track, HaMalach HaGoel, begins with a brief but beautiful prayer set to Brahms Lullaby, after which it shifts to a completely different melody, one of the loveliest on the album.

Among the remaining tracks, my favorite is probably the lament Arim Roshi. You don’t need to understand what they’re saying to get the gist of this plea for divine aid conveying the general idea of Psalm 121: “I lift up my eyes unto the hills; from whence cometh my help?” As soon as I heard this, the melody reminded me of Michael Card’s My Help, which covers similar territory, so I wasn’t surprised to see the English translation. It seems that he must have been drawing from traditional sources in its composition. This track feels like a chant by a choir of those in desperation. Slightly shivery and simply gorgeous.

The other tracks include peppy opener Ma Rabu; cheerful song of praise Arim Roshi; Oseh Shalom, a prayer for peace that tests the upper range of the leading vocalist; the interestingly paired Shaleshudis Medley; Ma Avarech, which begins like a benediction and ends like an elegy; and Israel’s national anthem, HaTikva.

This album has a different feel to it than the viral videos for which they are famous, but the tight harmonies and overall musical excellence are the same. If you love a cappella music, give the Maccabeats a try. You don’t need to understand Hebrew to appreciate the artistry of these songs.

The Maccabeats Call For Introspection and Outward Action in Book of Good Life

Shana tova! Tomorrow evening, Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, starts. In preparation for this time of reflection and renewal, the Maccabeats, the Jewish a cappella group from Yeshiva University, have put together a third video. Like their videos for Hanukkah and Purim, they based it on a popular contemporary song that I’d never heard of before (though since the release of the Purim song, it seems like I’m encountering Pink’s Raise Your Glass everywhere).

This time, the source is OneRepublic’s Good Life, an ode to youthful wanderlust. Once again, the lyricists are Immanuel Shalev and David Block, and the video director is Uri Westrich, and further continuity with previous videos is found in little visual nods such as the appearance of the orange NASA suit in one young man’s closet and the bumbling confusion of the toga-clad frat boys – the Greek bullies from the recounting of the tale of the Maccabees in Candlelight – as they struggle to read Hebrew songbooks. As before, the song by itself is wonderful, but the video adds another dimension of fun and, at the same time, reverence.

Released on September 22, Book of Good Life finds several contemporary young Jews feeling a bit uninspired by the idea of having to spend several hours in a synagogue. Gradually, however, their enthusiasm builds as the holiday helps them to do some real soul searching and look at the world with a fresh perspective. While this video celebrates a Jewish holiday just as exuberantly as the previous videos do, there is a fairly significant difference here in that the first two are fairly insular, while the third focuses largely on engagement with the world outside the Jewish community.

Although several scenes take place in shul or a synagogue, several others occur out on the city streets, where the apathy of the song’s beginning gives way to the activism of the second half. Hence, despite the presence of numerous Jewish images and terms such as yarmulkes, the traditional apples and honey eaten during this time, the “book of life” mentioned in Psalm 69 and the phrase “Days of Awe,” the song feels more ecumenical. What’s more, the focus on caring for one’s neighbors and being good stewards of one’s habitat make it widely applicable. Being less familiar with Rosh Hashanah than Hanukkah, I missed several specific references the first time I listened to it, and at first, I wasn’t sure if this was a holiday video or simply a general call to engagement with society at large – sort of a Jewish We Are the World. It does have that epic scope.

Another thing that’s interesting about this is where it stands in relation to the song that inspired it. With the first two videos, the originals are pretty much just party songs, and the new videos retain that celebratory focus but put a sacred spin on it. In this case, however, Book of Good Life feels like a direct counterpoint to Good Life. Whereas the original song is one of rugged individualism and getting all the kicks you can while you can, the Maccabeats present a different model – a life lived in community, where helping others is both a duty and a joy. The tension reminds me very much of the fundamental debate driving The Mystery of the Vanishing Victim, the 33rd book in the Trixie Belden series. Early in that book, conscientious Brian, my favorite of the Bob-White boys, stalwartly declares, “We happen to believe that getting involved with other people is what life is all about.”

Clearly, so do the Maccabeats. The later portion of the video is filled with short vignettes of the group’s members acting in ways that benefit others, from giving up a seat on the subway to another rider and tossing a tip to a street corner musician to throwing trash in the bin instead of leaving it on the sidewalk and helping a man carry his daughter’s stroller up a flight of stairs. It also extends to showing simple respect in ordinary interactions.  One young man takes the time to have a real conversation with his housemate instead of tuning her out; another, previously slumped over his desk in shul, offers an enthusiastic answer, or perhaps a question, to his rabbi.

As with the previous videos, the biggest lyrical similarities come in on the chorus. Instead of “I say, oh, got this feeling that you can’t fight, like this city is on fire tonight. This could really be a good life, a good, good life” we’ve got “Say oh, we've got feelings that we should fight. Make sure that we're choosing right. Gotta earn my own place in the book of good life.” Meanwhile, the contrast is most striking on the bridge. Instead of repeating the word “hopelessly” and pairing it with rather hedonistic expressions, the key word here is “hopefully,” and each phrase addresses a desire to be a more thoughtful, considerate person this year than last.

Of course, an a cappella group is ideal to express such a sentiment, since the power of their vocals lies in their ability to harmonize with each other. The harmonies on the bridge are richest, but I found myself moved by them throughout the song, particularly at points in the video when we see them singing as a group in their coordinated white shirts and black ties. Meanwhile, perhaps the single most striking image in the video is the one of four Maccabeats, each in very different garb, converging upon a vibrantly colored sidewalk drawing reading “Open Your Eyes” – then scattering again as they realize missteps they made earlier in the day and move to correct them.

That’s not to say that there’s no room for silliness in the video. One guy – the same one with the NASA suit – has an autographed Justin Bieber poster hanging on his wall. Another – who has a Maccabeats poster over his dresser – wears a bright red Trix t-shirt throughout much of the video. The lyrics to the original song reference Abbey Road, and in this video, four of the guys cross the street in imitation of that famous Beatles album cover. Then, of course, there are the earnest but clumsy Greeks, who have become increasingly more sympathetic with each video.

Silly or somber, Good Life is a wonderful celebration of an important Jewish holiday and an invitation for people from all backgrounds to reflect upon their lives and how they might have a more positive impact upon the world. At this point, the song is not for sale, but anyone can download it free of charge by following the link under the YouTube video. Meanwhile, those who want to help support future releases from this talented group can do so through a donation box on that same page. I’ve been a fan of the Maccabeats since I discovered them last December, and this is my favorite video yet. I hope that they will celebrate their heritage with many more videos showcasing their distinctively infectious style.

Explore the History of Hanukkah with the Maccabeats' Candlelight

Late last year, I started seeing a video by the name of Candlelight popping up around Facebook. After it turned up on several friends’ pages, I decided I had to check it out for myself. This upbeat song, just over three minutes in length, is a reworking of Mike Tompkins’ a cappella cover of Taio Cruz’s Dynamite, a dance party hit I’d never heard of at the time. The video, created by Uri Westrich, and the lyrics, written by Emmanuel Shalev and David Block, commemorate Hanukkah, telling the ancient story of the Maccabees and their defeat of a mighty Greek army and of the light that continued burning despite insufficient oil. The verses recount the tale, while the chorus focuses on contemporary celebrations of this event and the bridge incorporates Hebrew that fits seamlessly with the melody.

Having written hundreds of filksongs myself, I find it fascinating when a song using new lyrics to an established tune makes a big splash. When I finally got around to listening to Dynamite, it was fun to see where Shalev and Block made great departures and where they scarcely changed anything at all. Instead of “I throw my hands up in the air sometimes,” we get “I flip my latkes in the air sometimes;” instead of “Just wanna celebrate and live my life,” it’s “Just wanna celebrate for all eight nights.” Of course, the verses are very different, but they still work extremely well in the preset format.

The video adds to the charm of the song with the Brady Bunch-style head boxes, each containing a young man in a pristine white shirt and black tie or, inexplicably, one guy in an orange astronaut suit, interspersed with such sights as the cheesy re-enactments of epic battles and the gorgeous shot of dozens of colorful dreidels spinning merrily. The song is funnier when you watch it because of all the goofy little visual cues, but the song on its own is great as well. Sung by the Maccabeats, a Jewish a cappella group from Yeshiva University, Candlelight is vivacious, harmonious and educational.

I’m not aware of too many Hanukkah songs. The two that always spring to mind first for me are Adam Sandler’s ditty, which is really just a list of famous Jews, and Peter Yarrow’s Light One Candle, which merely uses Hanukkah as a jumping-off point for a broader message about social justice. Candlelight’s lyrics never lose their specific focus on Hanukkah, making it a wonderful cursory introduction to the holiday. The inclusion of Hebrew phrases like “maoz tzur” and “nes gadol hayah sham” prompts further study to learn the significance of those words, while the exuberant tone makes the whole thing irresistibly festive.

As a Christian, I have always felt a sense of kinship with the Jewish people and have tried to familiarize myself with their holidays and traditions. This song didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know, then, but I think it would be very handy for anyone who doesn’t have any idea what Hanukkah is all about. It’s a great overview, and it’s just plain fun, not to mention harmonious, a trait that makes a cappella music so inherently powerful. It’s about people coming together to create something above and beyond what any of them could do alone. It’s about community, which makes it such an ideal vehicle for this song about a plucky band of brothers with unshakable faith and the modern people bound together by their commitment to remembrance.

Tony Scali Cleverly Lays Down the Law in Season One of The Commish

Back in the 1990s, one show that my family often watched together was The Commish, starring Michael Chiklis as a hands-on police commissioner in a small New York town. Knowing my mom would soon be laid up after surgery, my friend lent us the boxed set of the series, which we’ve enjoyed revisiting. The first season of the quirky cop show created by Stephen J. Cannell and Stephen Kronish quickly establishes the tone, which is dramatic but often light-hearted as 38-year-old Commissioner Tony Scali uses his empathy and ingenuity to keep things in the city running as smoothly as possible.

The primary focus of each episode is usually on one or two cases currently vexing the police department, though at times Tony’s home life moves out of subplot territory and into the spotlight. Theresa Saldana plays his supportive wife Rachel, while Kaj-Erik Eriksen is 10-year-old David, a pretty typical kid. While the series is mostly episodic, with little in the way of overarching storylines, there are a few that weave their way through the first season. On the home front, Rachel wants another baby badly, and the season deals with their heartache over her difficulty in conceiving and later their turmoil when she succeeds but learns that the baby may be born with defects. Additionally, David tries to get used to the possibility of no longer being an only child and struggles with the conflict between Tony and Rachel’s live-in brother Arnie (David Paymer), an eccentric entrepreneur who mostly serves as comic relief.

At the department, several characters stand out. Kimberly Scott is cool and unruffled as Tony’s sassy secretary Lucille, and Gina Belafonte brings a tough, street-smart presence to Carmela, arguably the toughest cop under Tony’s watch. Other distinctive side characters include Ricky (Nicholas Lea), a hotshot officer; Irv (Alex Bruhanski), Tony’s nearing-retirement right-hand man; and Paulie (John Cygan), a detective and childhood chum of Tony’s who joins his team midway through the season.

The clear standout, however, is Stan Kelly, played with jittery charm by Geoffrey Nauffts. He comes across as very green, an eager young man who brings 110 percent to everything he does but often bungles the job. Shy and nervous, he flourishes under the mentorship of Tony, who often entrusts him with special assignments. Sometimes the main purpose of this is to boost his confidence; at other times, the task truly is important, and it’s Stan’s dedication to the job that makes him the go-to guy. He is intimately involved in many of the investigations, but his most centric role is in a late-season episode in which he kills a woman after responding to a heated domestic dispute and must deal with both his own crippling guilt and the threats leveled against him by the angry widower.

The show is a drama, but the fun lies in Tony’s creative approach to his job. The kind-hearted commissioner has a true gift for diffusing tense situations, and no one on the force can match his finesse for talking down the deranged by playing along with their delusions. He often baits and confronts criminals directly, while also dealing with victims himself and putting them at ease, often distracting them with requests for common courtesies like coffee and cookies. He’s a man adept at getting into the heads of those he wishes to influence or apprehend, and he doesn’t mind sacrificing a bit to do it. In the pilot, he forgoes food for several days to help him deal with some prisoners on a hunger strike, knowing that when he is ravenous, they’ll be even hungrier and will find it hard to resist the deluxe sandwich he eats in front of them. If this seems a little mean-spirited, the meeting concludes with his ordering the warden to eat in the prison cafeteria at least three times a week and improve the menu if the food is as bad as the prisoners say it is.

Tony’s cleverness often springs from his compassion, but sometimes his desire to do the right thing leaves him in a true quandary. Never is that more apparent this season than in The Greatest Gift, an episode that finds him deeply troubled over two ethical dilemmas in which the law and his sense of ethics are in fundamental conflict. The Christmastime setting adds to his sense of malaise. This is probably my favorite episode of season one. This episode also delves into the fact that Tony grew up Catholic but agreed to raise David in Rachel’s Jewish tradition. In some ways it’s a more somber episode than most, but the conclusion is particularly satisfying.

The Commish lasted for five seasons. Some were better than others, but this first season is one of the best. If you haven’t had the pleasure of witnessing the distinct way in which Tony Scali upholds the law, this is the place to get acquainted.

Devout Hershel Brings Hanukkah Back to a Goblin-Tormented Town

Eric Kimmel is an author who has made a name for himself with several picture books rooted in Jewish traditions. In Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins, one of his most lauded books, he draws from folklore to craft the tale of a clever man who outwits the goblins who have kept the residents of a tiny village from celebrating Hanukkah.

Hershel of Ostropol is a cheerful wanderer whose wits have clearly served him well in his travels. When he learns of the plague of goblins infecting the synagogue upon the hill, he takes it upon himself to outsmart the lot of them, thus reclaiming the sacred holiday for the people down below in the town.

Some of the methods he uses feel very familiar. In particular, I recall a Mickey Mouse book called Mickey Meets the Giant, which appears to have been based on a pre-existing story, in which Mickey fools a giant into believing that he can wring water out of a rock. Something very similar happens in this book, with Hershel crushing a rock that is, in reality, an egg. Another trick, which involves tricking a goblin into gambling away all of his money, reminds me of the game that Captain Kirk makes up in an episode of Star Trek.

That said, this is certainly an original story, and it’s fun to contemplate how the devoutly Jewish Hershel might go about tricking his next nemesis. Kimmel actually skips over three of the days, which is rather a shame, since it’s so amusing to see Hershel outwit those goblins. However, this gives us more time to perceive how much more formidable a foe the Goblin King is. While Hershel always has the upper hand in his previous encounters, it’s obvious that this frightening specter is going to give him some trouble.

One neat thing about the book is the way Kimmel deftly drops references to elements of a traditional Hanukkah celebration. We see Hershel eat pickles and hard-boiled eggs and play the dreidel game with a goblin - though, as Kimmel helpfully points out in a note in the back, Hershel makes up rules that render it impossible for him to lose. Through it all, the golden menorah rests on a small wooden table, and Hershel finds a way to light the candles each night, with the final night the most miraculous feat of all.

This is a Caldecott Honor Book, and it’s easy to see why, as Trina Schart Hyman’s wonderfully detailed illustrations truly bring the characters to life. Her artistic style is realistic, particularly when it comes to depicting humble, hairy Hershel, who nearly always has a twinkle in his eye. The goblins, meanwhile, are marvelously creative, from the tiny purple winged creature who harasses Hershel on the first night to the terrifying, wraith-like final visitor. The paintings are dark, with the blackness of the aged building only pierced by the illumination of a few candles, which emphasizes their importance.

There’s a fair bit of text in Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins, so it probably would be best suited to children of at least seven or eight, though it could work as a read-aloud for younger kids. While the story might be especially appreciated by Jewish children, Kimmel’s explanations in the back of the book make this clever story accessible to those from all backgrounds.

A Modern-Day Job Faces Crippling Uncertainty in A Serious Man

Last week, my brother came home for Spring Break, and one of the first things on his agenda was seeing a couple more of the Oscar nominees before the Academy Awards. The last one we squeezed in was the Coen Brothers’ A Serious Man. I hadn’t heard much about this movie until Entertainment Weekly‘s Doc Jensen used it as a major point of reference in one of his recent LOST columns. Naturally, that got me intrigued, and when I watched the movie myself, I saw what he meant about all the connections between the dark comedy and the soon-to-be-over fantastical drama.

A Serious Man stars Michael Stuhlbarg as Larry Gopnik, a mild-mannered Jewish physics professor whose life begins to unravel as disasters pile up. His wife (Sari Lennick) is having an affair. One of his students (David Tang) is failing his course and is not about to docilely accept an “F”. His brother (Richard Kind) has moved in with him and, on top of his many problems, has a tendency to monopolize the bathroom for hours at a time. His kids (Aaron Wolff and Jessica McManus) are both self-involved brats. And then people start dropping dead around him...

Larry is a meek mouse of a man who doesn’t understand why all of these terrible things are happening to him. Hoping for a little perspective, he consults a series of rabbis, who offer advice that is more baffling than helpful. He longs to be “a serious man” like Sy (Fred Melamed), his wife’s corpulent lover, but the more he ponders, the more nonsensical it all seems. To make matters worse, he frequently has disorientingly vivid dreams, making it increasingly difficult for him to discern between reality and the byproducts of his tortured mind.

As I mentioned in my review of Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland, this question of what is real and what isn’t pervades LOST. Indeed, many still hold to the theory that none of the events on the Island have actually happened - that they are all a dream. Head writers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse have promised that this will not be revealed to be the case. However, they also once promised that the series would never include time travel...

This is a movie steeped in Jewish culture, beginning with what looks like a folktale involving a Tevye-ish man, his Golde-ish wife and a mysterious visitor. This strange opening is never explained or even referenced again, and we’re left to ponder how it fits in, much as Larry must try to make sense of the rabbis’ words of wisdom. The cover of the DVD shows Larry on the roof, which again invites comparisons to Fiddler on the Roof, particularly Tevye’s remark that “Without our traditions, our lives would be as shaky as a fiddler on the roof!” Larry’s life is shaky indeed, and he’s hoping that the richness of those traditions will help to anchor him.

The first rabbi is the youthful Rabbi Scott, portrayed by Simon Helberg. As I’ve previously seen him as a lethargic sidekick to Dr. Horrible and a cheesy, girl-crazy scientist on The Big Bang Theory, I had to chuckle at the idea of him as a rabbi. Despite his relative inexperience, however, he seems fairly competent, and certainly passionate. He talks about the difficulty of seeing the divine at work in the world and the need for some perspective to make God’s presence clear. “You think, well, if I can't see Him, He isn't there any more, He's gone,” Scott says. “But that's not the case. You just need to remember how to see Him.”

On LOST, faith has been a prominent theme since the beginning, and now, partway into the final season, we’re seeing many characters wrestling with the very issue the young rabbi describes when it comes to the Island’s very own seemingly benevolent but aloof caretaker. The rabbi goes on to bring up the iconic Fate vs Free Will debate, and there’s a hint of John Locke in his assertion that everything that happens is an expression of God’s will. The bald boar-hunter would certainly agree that “You can't cut yourself off from the mystical or you'll be - you'll remain - completely lost.”

The second rabbi, Rabbi Nachter (George Wyner), is older and presumably more qualified to dole out sage advice. He decides to help out by telling Larry a long, convoluted story full of strange circumstances and presumed hidden meaning. But the tale ends with a series of questions to which he does not have any answers. He reminds me very much of Damon and Carlton, who have been fielding more angry inquiries than ever as to the meaning of this incredibly strange journey on which they’ve taken us. Many viewers fear that in the end, it’s not going to make any sense. Many threads will be left dangling, and like Larry, we’ll be left demanding, “It sounds like you don't know anything! Why even tell me the story?” What was the point of it all?

“Hashem doesn't owe us the answer,” the rabbi serenely advises him. LOST‘s Jacob isn’t big on distributing answers, which frustrates some and infuriates others. He generally prefers to leave the people under his dominion guessing, letting them work things out for themselves. He wants them to be “serious men,” to puzzle things out and to learn from the harrowing challenges they face. Like Larry, many of them seem to have Job-like misery inflicted upon them. How they respond to such tests is a mark of their resilience and their faith, however submerged it may be.

A Serious Man is a quiet kind of comedy, with plenty of dry laughs and even more room for rumination. It is less violent than No Country for Old Men but more profane, and arguably just as tragic. Nonetheless, there are uplifting moments, along with plenty of heady conversations, including a mention of Schrodinger’s Cat, which not only has LOST applicability but seems to have turned up in every bit of science fiction I’ve encountered in the past year. This thought experiment has to do with the possibility of multiple outcomes. As long as the box stays closed, one is free to assume that inside awaits a tranquil scene or a disaster. This is the type of uncertainty that pervades A Serious Man and LOST alike. Unsettling? Often. But also riveting.

Don't Suffer Through the Shoddy Sarah and the Squirrel

Last month, I celebrated Squirrel Appreciation Day for the first time by reviewing as many squirrel-related products as I could find. I also found myself at the website of my local library putting more squirrel books on hold, and I ventured over to Netflix to see if I might stumble upon anything there. I came up with one title: Sarah and the Squirrel. I’d never heard of it, but I figured it was worth giving it a whirl. Next time, I might have to think about being a little more discriminating.

The Holocaust has been the subject of many powerful movies, particularly Schindler’s List and Life Is Beautiful, and I’ve sometimes had the impression that it’s hard to mess up a movie that delves into such compelling subject matter. Boy, was I wrong.

In this hour-long movie from the early 1980s, Sarah is a young girl when her family goes into hiding in the woods to escape the Nazis. They live in an underground shelter and urge Sarah to keep quiet and not to let anyone see her. But they let her go out in the woods on berry-collecting missions, and on one such occasion, the rest of her family gets rounded up. She tearfully watches as they’re carted away, then struggles to survive on her own.

Her life in hiding gains a greater purpose when she sees some men trying to bring down the bridge over which a Nazi train rumbles, bringing supplies for their army. They fail, but she sees a chance for her to make a difference. If she loosens the stones one at a time, perhaps she will eventually undermine its stability, and boom! Nazi Bridge is Falling Down!

This semi-animated film is the brainchild of writer-director Yoram Gross, with dialogue by Elizabeth Kata. Mia Farrow, who provides an introduction and conclusion while wandering in the woods that supposedly housed Sarah, seems to suggest that this is a true story, but I can’t find anything elsewhere to corroborate that. So I’m thinking it’s just true in the context of the movie. Which isn’t saying much.

Assuming this didn’t actually happen, Sarah’s own personal resistance is pretty hard to believe. Not that she would attempt it, because it’s a brave, clever plan in theory, but in practice, I just can’t imagine how she could remove enough stones to make a difference while not arousing the suspicions of the soldiers on patrol on top of the bridge. Of course, the point of the movie seems to be that even though she somehow succeeded, the war raged on. So... Don’t try to make a difference, kids, ‘cause there’s really no point.

That’s the message I got from this movie, in the rare event that I even understood what was going on. The film is a bizarre blend of animation and actual footage somewhat akin to Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings. I found that weird and creepy, and this even more so. It flashes between real footage and animation so often that it’s totally disorienting.

Then there’s the sound quality, which is horrendous. The music meant to be representative of Sarah’s tranquil pre-war family life is so shrill that I muted it during the opening credits. Even worse is the dialogue, which almost all comes down to Sarah, who is voiced by Farrow. The trouble is that she whispers pretty much everything she says, so even with the volume way up, she’s very difficult to understand. Not that her dialogue is anything all that illuminating. Still, I found myself wishing that subtitles were an option.

And then there’s the title, the whole reason I ended up with this movie in the first place. The squirrel is barely in the movie. It does one interesting thing; otherwise, it just occasionally appears so that Sarah has someone to mumble to, though she also talks to rabbits, wolves and other animals.

I found the look of the film quite unattractive; the only portion whose animation I really enjoyed was a sequence involving all of the woodland creatures. I liked it because it reminded me of Bambi. But then it reminded me too much of Bambi, as the forest inexplicably burst into flames. And after what felt like about ten minutes, it finally became clear that it was all a nightmare, and on some level a metaphor for the war. So maybe there was some point to it, but they let it go on way too long.

Sarah and the Squirrel is a movie that I’m sure was made with good intentions. I imagine the thought was that this could introduce children to the horrors of the Holocaust without explicitly showing very much. But I can’t imagine many kids being able to sit through this trippy barrage of sounds and images, and I can’t imagine many adults putting up with it either. (My mom declared that it was like The Swans, a Hans Christian Andersen adaptation I abhor, only worse.  Read my review of that, and you'll see that's really saying something.) It’s a shame because it’s an interesting premise, and I’m sure that there could have been a way to do it well. But whatever that method was, Gross didn’t find it.

On the First Night of Chanukah Is Simplistic But Fun

The 12 Days of Christmas is an incredibly easy song to adapt, so it has spawned its own mini-genre of Christmas books.  Cecily Kaiser and Brian Schatell extend its influence by applying it to Judaism in On the First Night of Chanukah. 

I’ve read different explanations for the items included in the original 12 Days of Christmas, but no matter how you slice it, that’s a pretty strange list.  By contrast, the objects in this book make a lot more sense.  Each page features something that is typically a part of a Chanukah celebration: eight candles, seven doughnuts, six finger puppets, five chocolate gelt, four dreidels, three Stars of David, two latkes and one menorah. 

One each day, a different person is singled out as the giver.  It starts with Mom, then Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, an aunt, an uncle, cousins and a teacher join in the festivities.  The beginning of the book is fairly sedate, but by the end of it, it’s quite a rowdy party, with a house full of laugher and love. 

Schatell’s illustrations are cartoonish, with each of the family members wearing large grins and sporting rosy cheeks, and as the celebration gains intensity, there are more and more details to discover in the cheerful pictures.  One of the neatest elements is the Maccabee Playhouse the children use to put on a puppet show, a great way to bring the family together and let the history of the holiday leap to life in a striking way.  I also like the way the candles in the menorah spell out CHANUKAH.

The story itself doesn’t offer explanations for what any of these items are.  It’s just your basic 12 Days of Christmas spin-off, so it’s up to the pictures to do the talking, and the book really seems geared toward children who are Jewish.  Hence, while it could be an educational tool, I don’t think that was Kaiser’s primary intention, and those who use it in such a way will probably want to include some supplementary materials.

In comparison to the number of Christmas books out there, Chanukah-related selections are fairly few and far between.  This one is definitely geared toward the younger end of the age spectrum, and it doesn’t tell a very in-depth story.  But it still manages to cover a lot of ground in terms of depicting traditional Chanukah festivities, and the fun, affectionate nature of the family makes On the First Day of Chanukah all the more appealing.

Dogs Help Crack the Case in Nate the Great and the Crunchy Christmas

I’ve read several different children’s mystery series, from Encyclopedia Brown to the Boxcar Children. But I’d only ever heard of Nate the Great until I read Nate the Great and the Crunchy Christmas, which appears to have been the 18th book in the series, which is designed for children who are advanced enough to read independently but aren’t quite ready for chapter books. Written by Marjorie Weinman Sharmat and Craig Sharmat and illustrated by Marc Simont, the approximately 40-page-long book finds young detective Nate distracted from the job of shoveling his driveway by the arrival of a friend in need.

That pal is Annie, the owner of Fang, a large, tough-looking pooch who intimidates Nate. Fang is out of sorts, which Annie insists is because he has not yet received a Christmas card from his mother. Don’t ask how, in a world where canines aren’t even capable of speaking, a dog can send Christmas cards; that is one particular mystery on which Nate can shed no light. But he is determined to figure out what exactly happened to the letter that Annie insists must have arrived.

With 40 pages to fill, Nate has time to try out every trick in the trade, but the ultimate solution is quite simple, reminding me of the book The Berenstain Bears and the Missing Dinosaur Bone. In both cases, the detectives’ four-legged sidekicks prove to be essential in finally cracking the case. Hence, this book is as much for dog lovers as mystery fans, with plenty of commentary on dog behavior, whether it’s the tendency to bark at the mailman or an uncatlike willingness to wear silly costumes.

Most of the sentences in the book are fairly short, often taking up just one line, and repetition is frequently used for emphasis and humor. For instance, when he investigates Annie‘s catalog collection, Nate notes, “Some of the catalogs were for dogs. Christmas food for dogs. Christmas toys for dogs. Christmas clothes for dogs. Fang must be on a mailing list.”

Fang is the most amusing character in the cartoonish illustrations, always a cross between foreboding and cuddly. He looks like a German shepherd without any color variation in his fur, and he’s charmingly complacent as he sits outside in the snow in a tiny hat and jingle bell collar. Also worth a laugh is Rosamond, an eccentric friend of Annie’s whose Christmas tree is decorated with several live cats.

While Rosamond and Annie are preparing for Christmas, Nate celebrates Chanukah. This doesn’t come into the story much, but it’s an interesting element, particularly when he mentions eating potato pancakes. The lights in his window at the end of the book are also a subtle nod. For a more overt examination of friendship across faiths during the holidays, I recommend Patricia Polacco’s The Trees of the Dancing Goats, but if you like a little mystery with your “merry” and some canine with your “Christmas,” check out Nate the Great and the Crunchy Christmas.

Mary Ann Hoberman Branches Off Into Fiction With Strawberry Hill

"Do you remember the taste of strawberries?" asks Sam Gamgee in the film version of The Return of the King, hoping to rouse his exhausted companion from the depths of despair. As someone who has found great delight in picking strawberries and who invariably opts for a strawberry sundae when we go out for ice cream, I understand the connection those bright red berries have with thoughts of serenity and joy.

It's the same connection 10-year-old Allie feels in Strawberry Hill when her parents tell her that they will be living in a house on Strawberry Hill when they move from New Haven to Stamford. It's the Depression. Jobs are scarce, and her father has been living there for some time; now they are able to join him. Unfortunately, that means leaving behind friends and familiar surroundings. Forlorn Allie clings fiercely to the shining vision of a field full of strawberries. Reality doesn't quite measure up to her dreams, but that is an important first step in a long lesson about not relying too heavily upon first impressions.

Strawberry Hill was written by Mary Ann Hoberman, who has been penning children's poetry for decades, to much acclaim. In fact, she was named the second children's poet laureate last year. She has published many picture books, but this middle-grade book is her first novel and was inspired by her own growing-up years. The Depression-era setting makes it a novel of historical interest for youngsters, while it is especially timely because of the current Recession, reminding me of the Kit Kittredge movie that American Girl released last year.

While that film focuses on the time during which the young protagonist's father is away, searching for work out of town, Allie, having already experienced such a separation, now has a fairly normal, stable home life. However, one of her friends has a dad who visits only occasionally, while another friend hasn't seen her father in months. Another starts up a paper route in order to help his mother pay the bills. Hints of the difficult times are everywhere, with the most blatant example being the hobo who knocks on Allie's door, looking for a meal.

Aside from the backdrop of the Depression, there are other indications of the times. Allie uses coal from a neighbor's oven to draw a hopscotch board on her driveway. She plays with paper dolls, and she wears dresses. Hoberman doesn't specify the year in which this takes place, but with references to Shirley Temple and Mary Poppins, it must be sometime in the mid- to late 1930s. It's interesting to note the differences and similarities between Allie and modern children; I was struck by how often I forgot that this was not set in contemporary times. So many of the same things are present, from cars to pop, and Allie behaves pretty much the way I would expect a current-day child to behave in her situation. The fact that the country is in the midst of economic troubles again makes the story even more relatable. The main difference is that the children find ways of amusing themselves without the help of technology.

Allie is a kind, imaginative girl who has an especially close bond with her sweet little brother Danny. She sometimes comes across as rather whiny, and although she is the victim of prejudice, she has a few prejudices of her own. She reminds me a bit of Anne from Anne of Green Gables in that she is very hung up on the notion of a bosom friend and has very clear ideas about what qualities this mystical person should have. Her new home presents her with many opportunities for friendships, but none are without complications.

Her neighbor Martha, who is Catholic and attends private school, is pretty and fairly well-off. She has a warm, welcoming mother, and she's the first person Allie meets upon her arrival. But Martha also has a mean streak, and her best friend can be flat-out nasty, at one point directing a religiously motivated epithet at the Jewish Allie. Mimi, another neighbor, is Jewish and attends the same school as Allie does. Her mother is lazy and sarcastic, and Mimi is overweight and clingy. But she's unfailingly considerate and appreciative of the time Allie spends with her, and Danny adores her. At school, Allie meets Allie M., who is quiet and kind, and Dan, who develops a crush on her. But neither lives nearby, so after-school association with them is limited. I do think that Allie is too focused on the idea of having one friend to whom she is closer than all others; her obsession with exclusivity certainly causes problems. But her revelations about the nature of true friendship are worthwhile and applicable to modern children.

Strawberry Hill contains 44 short, unnamed chapters and features lovely pencil drawings by Wendy Anderson Halperin. I would recommend it to children, particularly around the ages of 9 to 12, who are interested in history or who have recently moved, or will soon move. It's an engaging tale, and its lessons about friendship and making the best of a disappointing situation are relevant and helpful. If Hoberman decides to write another novel, you can count me in.

My Top Ten Movies of the '70s

The 1970s were just before my time, so I didn't see any of these in the theater, but I easily got caught up in their magic from the comfort of my own home.

Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971) / Pete's Dragon (1977) - Both of these movies are live-action films that creatively incorporate animation.  In the first, it's in a lengthy sequence of the movie that takes place underwater and then on an island, where the apprentice witch played by Angela Lansbury goes with the children under her care and their new acquaintance Emelius, portrayed by the always-amusing David Tomlinson.  A fun film with enjoyable songs, especially Portabello Road, which I always think of when I read about Harry Potter's first trip to Diagon Alley.  In the second, everything is live-action except the title character, otherwise known as Elliot.  He's the most unintimidating dragon you've ever seen, except when hard-luck orphan Pete is in danger.  The movie has a bittersweet ending, but it's mostly happy.  Mickey Rooney, Red Buttons, Shelly Winters and Jim Dale give hilarious performances, and Helen Reddy beautifully sings Candle on the Water, one of my all-time favorite Disney songs.

Fiddler on the Roof (1971) / Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) - Norman Jewison directed both of these musicals.  The first is about Russian Jews trying to uphold honored traditions while facing oppression in the tiny town of Anatevka.  The songs are outstanding, and Topol is excellent as the robust, philosophical Tevye, who is deeply devoted to God and to his daughters.  The second is filmed in the Holy Land, which is pretty neat, though some of the directorial choices are a little strange, like the costumes that sometimes seem more suited to hippies than ancient Jerusalem dwellers and the tanks that Judas imagines trying to plow him down at one point.  Still, the songs are amazing in this unconventional look at Holy Week, told entirely in song and focusing on Judas's perspective. The extremely energetic Carl Anderson is exhausting to watch as Judas, and Barry Dennen makes a big impression in his few scenes as the conflicted Pilate.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971) - I enjoyed Tim Burton's remake of this classic very much, but I'll always have a special place in my heart for the original. Gene Wilder makes a wacky, manipulative Wonka, while Julie Dawn Cole and Roy Kinnear are the most memorable child-parent pair as horrendously spoiled Veruca Salt and her cowed father. My favorite character, however, is Charlie's inept teacher, Mr. Turkentine, hilariously played by David Battley. I also love the Oompa Loompa songs and the vignettes at the beginning of the movie showing what ridiculous behavior Willy Wonka's contest has inspired.

Herbie Rides Again (1974) - My favorite of the Herbie sequels, and I may even prefer it to The Love Bug, though I do miss Buddy Hackett's gold-hearted mechanic, Tennessee. Grandma Steinmetz is just as lovable, though, and has plenty of spunk as she stands up to the comically villainous Alonzo Hawk, played by a deliciously over-the-top Keenan Wynn. This movie has nothing to do with racing; it's just Herbie, with some help from some other curiously animated objects and a couple of human friends, helping sweet Mrs. Steinmetz save the firehouse where she has lived for so many years. A very funny movie.

Young Frankenstein (1974) - As is this, though it's a little more adult-oriented. I watched it for the first time when I was about eight, and I laughed myself silly; I watched it again in high school and couldn't believe how many naughty double entendres were in it. They sailed right over my head at the time, which is one nice thing about this movie; kids can enjoy it as a goofy horror spoof and probably won't pick up on the innuendo. Gene Wilder goes from strictly level-headed to demented in his performance as the scientist trying to resist the associations of the family name, and Marty Feldman is a hoot as his hunchbacked assistant Igor, while Peter Boyle, now most associated with cantankerous Frank on Everybody Loves Raymond, makes a sympathetic monster. Usually I'm not a big fan of black-and-white, but in this case I think director Mel Brooks definitely made the right call.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) - Throughout high school, several of my friends told me I needed to see this famous spoof. My English teacher even showed it in class one day, but it was the one day that term I happened to be absent. So it wasn't until after high school that I finally saw it, and I understood what all of the fuss was about. This, too, is full of adult humor, and some of it is more overt than in Young Frankenstein. There are also a couple of scenes, particularly one involving a vicious bunny, that could be traumatizing to youngsters. But as an Anglophile who loves the Arthurian legends, I couldn't stop laughing at the antics of King Arthur and his Knights, and when it comes to sheer silliness, this one gives Airplane! a serious run for its money.

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977) - Given my great fondness for Winnie the Pooh, I couldn't leave this off the list. This humble Disney masterpiece is a combination of three earlier shorts, in which Pooh gets stuck in Rabbit's front door, Piglet loses his house in a dreadful rainstorm and Rabbit plots to rid the Hundred-Acre Wood of the menace that is Tigger. These cozy tales have only the mildest amount of peril, and they paved the way for my all-time favorite cartoon, The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.

Star Wars (1977) - This first installment in George Lucas's trilogy is full of classic characters and scenes. Mark Hamill is an endearingly whiny Luke in the film's early moments, while Carrie Fisher's Leia is bossy and Harrison Ford's Han Solo is cynical. They've all got some growing to do, and their first adventures together help them accomplish that. The trash compactor scene is a compact example of the perfect balance the movie strikes between action and comedy. The special effects aren't groundbreaking anymore, but they still draw us into that world, though not as much as iconic characters like R2-D2, C-2PO, Chewbacca, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader.

Watership Down (1978) - "It's about bunnies," said LOST's Sawyer in a concise description of the novel from which this animated film was adapted. But that doesn't really begin to cover it. It's about survival, migration, faith, industrialism and all sorts of other things, and while the characters are most definitely rabbits, they have a lot to say about the human condition. It's a surprisingly dark movie, but it's lovely nonetheless, especially the segment that features Art Garfunkel singing Bright Eyes, a somber reflection on grief.

The Muppet Movie (1979) - The musical buddy comedy assembles all of the major players from The Muppet Show for an adventure explaining how they got together. For Muppet fans, this is a must-see. Full of that great mix of humor and heart that makes Jim Henson's creations so irresistible, the movie also features comedic performances by the likes of Steve Martin, Bob Hope, Milton Berle, Richard Pryor and Orson Welles. And of course, the songs are terrific, especially Kermit's banjo-assisted soliloquy, The Rainbow Connection, the quintessential Muppet anthem.

Jewish Joseph Had a Little Overcoat a Whimsical Delight For All

When I first spotted the title Joseph Had a Little Overcoat, I thought it might be a re-telling of one of my favorite Bible stories, the one that inspired Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. While the title does include a man named Joseph and a coat, this is not that story. Like the Genesis account, however, this is definitely a Jewish tale.

The author-illustrator is Simms Taback, who wanted to make a book out of a Yiddish song he loved as a child. The words and melody to that song - I Had a Little Overcoat - are included in the back of the book. The story itself, meanwhile, is very similar to the song, following a simple pattern to demonstrate the evolution of his overcoat: "Joseph had a little (article of clothing). It got old and worn. So he made a (new article of clothing) out of it and (did something)." The lettering, which Taback designed, is of a somewhat scrawled, hand-printed nature and adds to the impression of this as a homemade book.

Joseph is a poor Polish farmer who lives alone, though he has many friends and relatives and is always glad to share in their joyous occasions. The illustrations are stylized and full of bright colors. My favorite aspect of the pictures is picking out all the Jewish references; particularly prominent are the Hebrew letters scattered throughout and the many nods to Sholom Aleichem, who wrote the collection of stories upon which Fiddler on the Roof is based. Taback's illustrations also include several proverbs appropriate to the situation, such as "When the coat is old, only the holes are new" and "Better to have an ugly patch than a beautiful hole."

The holes actually are one of the most noteworthy components of the pictures, which were done with watercolor, Gouache, pencil, ink and collage. Every other right-hand page includes a hole cut in the shape of a particular garment. It escapes much notice in the context of that page as the subsequent right-hand page is cleverly designed to complement it, but it allows for the creation of a new garment once the page is turned. We witness the change from overcoat to jacket to vest and beyond as Joseph goes out of his way to make the most out of the materials he has been given, imparting a little lesson along the way about the value of recycling.

Joseph Had a Little Overcoat is a delightful book that the youngest of readers can enjoy thanks to the extremely simple and repetitive narration, while older children will have fun poring over the detailed illustrations. It may not be Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but this Caldecott winner is still a dream come true.

Fiddler on the Roof a Tradition Worth Keeping Alive

A few months ago, my brother came home from school and demanded that I guess what play his school would be putting on next. When I failed to answer correctly, he clued me in by imitating a stringed instrument with his fingers. “Um… Fiddler on the Roof?” I guessed. I was surprised at the level of enthusiasm this revelation brought him. After all, he had never tried out for a play at school before and had informed me on any number of occasions that he disapproved of musicals. Fiddler, it seemed, was different. “It’s my favorite musical,” he announced. And when we almost jokingly suggested he think about trying out, knowing how such suggestions had been taken in the past, Nathan told us he had every intention of auditioning, not just for a role, but for the role. He wanted to play Tevye even though his theater experience was limited to grade school class plays and church pageants. He would show the world – and, most importantly, the director – what he was capable of.

As a result of his determination, we experienced absorption to the point of feeling as though our living room had transformed into Anatevka. We knew we were really in trouble when he adopted a Russian accent full-time. I started going into nostalgic shock, as this was the final play performed during my tenure at Mercyhurst Prep and the only one, outside of Children’s Theater Ensemble, in which I had been involved. Nathan alternated between watching the video from that production and the Norman Jewison film. He particularly studied Topol’s performance of If I Were a Rich Man, which he intended to use for his audition. We looked everywhere for the sheet music and found it in the most unlikely of places: a book of songs designed for people intending to audition for American Idol. With Simon Cowell’s apparent disdain for show tunes, particularly in a pop music context, I can’t imagine him being impressed with any rendition of that song in an audition. At any rate, Nathan mastered the song as well as Tevye’s opening monologue.

Although Nathan didn’t end up with a part nearly as large as he’d hoped – most of the top roles went to students who had already been in several plays before – he was awarded the part of Yussel the Hatter, which gave him eight solo lines and time onstage for more than half the play. We had trouble recognizing him at first under his beard, but once we found him we were swept up in his exuberant performance. I spent the first show I attended comparing his show with mine – including the orchestra’s keyboard-generated accordionist, which had been my role in 1999 – and had to concede that Collegiate Academy’s version was comparable in quality to Mercyhurst’s. Nathan was just as caught up in the emotion and camaraderie generated by the play as I had been, and when we watched the film yet again during Easter break, we both had an even deeper appreciation of it.

Fiddler on the Roof is a perennially popular play, almost a requirement for every high school to put on at some time or another. Aside from a couple of missing songs, the movie is very similar to the play and centers around the performance of Topol as Tevye. He was such a perfect fit for the role, he occupied it for decades in London. Having grown up with his rendition of Tevye, I found that the character had become intertwined with the actor’s robust frame and booming voice. It was quite an adjustment to make when our school’s director cast the brilliant but lanky Rick LaKari as the philosophical milkman. He pulled it off beautifully, but I still can’t help thinking of Tevye as a younger Santa Claus with a Russian accent. The cast of the film, and of every play version I’ve seen, has an inconsistent array of accents. Tevye and Yente have by far the strongest accents, while the daughters and many other cast members have barely a trace of an accent. Aside from that minor oddity, all the cast members are solid and form a superb ensemble supporting cast.

Yente (Molly Picon) is a major source of comic relief as Anatevka’s long-winded, absent-minded matchmaker. Although she is one of the only key cast members without a significant solo (at least in the film version), she remains one of the strongest presences in the film, and her scenes with Golde (Norma Crane) are a delight. Golde is a no-nonsense woman, a powerful matriarch who leaves poor Tevye feeling a bit hen-pecked. She is also very superstitious, a trait Tevye uses to his advantage in what is probably the film’s most hilarious scene. Of his five daughters, three are highlighted. Tzeitel (Rosiland Harris), the oldest, is obedient and dutiful but resents Yente’s intrusion in her life. Her lifelong playmate-turned-sweetheart, Motel (Leonard Frey), is absolutely adorable, lithe and lanky and jumpy as a jackrabbit, terrified that Tevye will yell at him if he asks for Tzeitel’s hand. Next down the line is Hodel (Michele Marsh), who is more of a free spirit than her older sister. Initially dreaming of marrying Mendel, the rabbi’s son (a self-important villager played by Barry Dennen, who would go on to have a much larger role as Pontius Pilate in Jewison’s version of Jesus Christ Superstar), she instead falls for Perchik (hunky Michael Glaser), a student from Kiev determined to effect radical change in the Russian government. Third youngest is Chava (Neva Small), a gentle bookworm who shatters Tevye with her defiant marriage to Fyedka (Raymond Lovelock), a Christian. Other key players are the constable (Louis Zorich), a basically decent man compelled by duty to carry out cruel orders against the Jewish Anatevkans alongside whom he has lived for years, and Lazar Wolf (Paul Mann), the jovial frosty-haired butcher whose hopes of marrying Tzeitel are eventually thwarted by Tevye’s devotion to his daughter.

As with any musical, the songs add a great deal to the film. Many songs have a Jewish flavor, particularly the various incarnations of Tradition, the movie’s show-stopping opening number which introduces the various groups in the village. The cinematography in this scene is very interesting; household chores such as scraping chickens and beating rugs become part of the instrumentation. The choreography of flashing images shows up again in Superstar, a film which Jewison was granted permission to shoot on location in the Holy Land because of his respectful treatment of Fiddler. Tevye’s signature song, the rousing rumination If I Were a Rich Man, is a surefire audience pleaser, and Matchmaker, Matchmaker gives the girls a chance to shine and also provides a bit of foreshadowing. Sabbath Prayer and Sunrise, Sunset are as solemn as To Life is rowdy, and The Dream is one of the zaniest musical numbers to grace any musical. Miracle of Miracles is a joyous proclamation of Motel’s evolution from meek boy to self-sufficient husband-to-be. Far From the Home I Love is a similarly defining moment for Hodel, but much more bittersweet as it takes place upon her departure from Anatevka and her family. Do You Love Me is a sweet duet between Tevye and Golde in which they discover they have grown to love one another during their years of marriage. The reprises of Tradition exemplify Tevye’s intensifying inner struggles which come to a head during the heartbreaking Chava Sequence. The last song in the movie is Anatevka, which unites the cast in one last expression of community before they must go their separate ways.

Tevye is both a narrator of sorts and the play’s central figure, a poor milkman with five daughters with a keen sense of wit, a fondness for quoting scripture (often incorrectly), and a penchant for conversing with God while going about his daily chores. Striking a balance between tradition and the changing ways of the world becomes increasingly difficult, and while the majority of the first video is light-hearted, the second half is rather dark and dreary. Family and political crises take the play in a more and more minor direction as the play progresses, but the irrepressible spirit of the villagers imbues the finale with a hint of optimism. With a running time of just over three hours (a bit less if you fast forward through the Entr’Acte, which feels very unnecessary on video), it’s a lengthy film, but the stellar cast, witty script, top-notch songs and themes of faith, family, and the conflict between tradition and change make for an exceptional viewing experience.

Let Us Never Forget

Oskar Schindler was a shrewd businessman. He was a womanizer and a Nazi. He was also a humanitarian. In Stephen Speilberg's amazing epic film, Schindler's List, the life of this unlikely hero is chronicled through a horrifying three-and-a-quarter-hour account of the Holocaust, in which six million Jews met their demise in the Nazi gas chambers.

The entire film is in black and white, except for a few key moments. This lends the movie a documentary feel and adds to the aura of desolation and horror that hangs over all of Europe. When color finally comes, it is first as a means of recognizing a child seen previously in the film during the storming of a ghetto. But moments before the conclusion of the film, it is a symbol of hope in the form of flames from the candles of the Sabbath ceremony performed by the rabbi in Schindler's factory.

Liam Neeson plays Oskar Schindler, a deeply conflicted man who must eventually decide whether to live as he has lived, seeking profit and going along with the cruelty of his political party, or risk everything to make a difference -- indeed, to save lives. His two best friends are the sadistic Ammon Goeth, a psychotic Nazi commandant played chillingly by Ralph Fiennes, and Itzhak Stern, his Jewish clerk, whose gentle wisdom and compassion shine brilliantly through Ben Kingsley's portrayal.

While the movie focuses on the ever-differing lives of Schindler and the commandant, it gives a horrifying account of what happened to the Jews after Hitler declared his plan for the purification of the Aryan race. The brutality and inhumanity which occurred during these years was such that a person watching this movie would be tempted to think that such a thing never could have happened, especially not in our civilized twentieth century. We must not succumb to that temptation. Six million Jews, not to mention several million other people who didn't fit the Nazi ideal, were systematically slaughtered in ghettos and death camps before the war ended in 1945.

Schindler's List depicts this mindless genocide in stark detail. This movie is not pleasant, and you should consider carefully whether your child can handle such graphic material; indeed, you may not be able to yourself. Prepare yourself, and prepare your child for the horror he or she is about to witness. I would not eagerly endorse this film for anyone under the age of thirteen, though I do think that younger children should be informed of what happened during the Holocaust. I just don't think they are ready to see it presented in such graphic detail.

Despite this film's bleak subject, it is not without hope. It provides a powerful testimony of the profound difference one person can make. Oskar Schindler bankrupted himself to save 1100 Jews. Over 6000 "Schindler Jews" are alive today. That is a powerful legacy. Let us never forget the horror of the Holocaust or the power of a person to bring a ray of hope into the darkest hours of human history. For "all that is necessary for evil to exist is that good men and women do nothing."

Love Conquers All

When I was a senior in high school, I recall many of my teachers referencing this movie and suggesting that all of us see it. The chaperones on my February trip to the Holocaust Memorial in Washington, D.C., were especially emphatic in their praise of this film. I am surprised, actually, that it took me this long to see it. But see it I finally did. Last weekend my mom decided that we should rent it, telling me that she had been wanting to see it for quite some time. I expected that we would be watching a subtitled version; much to my surprise, it was dubbed. But while others have noted that they soon got past the distraction of the subtitles, I soon got past the distraction of the lips not being entirely consistent with the sounds which they produced.

By the time we got to the video store, it was 11:00 p.m. I had been assuming all along that my 12-year-old brother would go elsewhere while we were watching the movie; now, given the time, I figured he would just go to bed. I honestly didn't think the film would hold any interest for him. I was wrong. The three of us stayed up until after 1:00 on a Saturday night to watch Life is Beautiful, and none of us had any trouble staying awake for the duration.

The movie stars Roberto Begnini as Guido, a vibrant, comical fellow who wins the heart of the audience from the beginning. An Italian Jew, Guido wishes to open a bookshop but is forced to begin his life in the new town he has come to as a waiter in the Grand Hotel under the employment of his Uncle Leo. In a memorable scene, he engages in a hobbit-esque riddle contest with Dr. Lessing, a German physician for whom solving riddles is an obsession. Remember this man, for he will reappear at a crucial point towards the end of the film. So intent is the good doctor on his riddles that he refuses to eat. When an unexpected -- and very rich -- customer arrives, Guido must rush to bring him a satisfactory dinner despite the fact that the kitchen has all but ceased operation for the night. His solution is simple but brilliant and sets the stage for his next trick.

The first hour of the movie is a light comedy concerned with Guido's pursuit of Dora (Nicoletta Braschi), a young schoolteacher who he keeps capriciously running into (quite literally) in a number of hilarious instances. Unfortunately, his "principessa" is soon to be married to a boorish upper-class fascist who is every bit as despicable as Rose's fiance in Titanic. Not only is she engaged, she is Catholic. But Guido manages to convince her of his piety by invoking Mary several times, each with immediate gratification. His wit, charm, and tenacity soon win her over, and he sweeps her away from her engagement party on a green Jewish horse (so marked by the fascists, hinting at the trouble soon to come).

We rejoin Dora and Guido about five years later, now happily married with an adorable son, Joshua (Giorgio Cantarini). Guido finally has his bookstore, and the little family is thriving despite the increasing signs of prejudice against Jews. Guido side-steps the issue comically with his son, foreshadowing his tactics during the darker portion of the film. When Joshua asks why a certain store has a sign reading "No dogs or Jews," Guido replies that all store owners have signs like that. He goes on to describe an instance in which his Chinese friend with a pet kangaroo was denied entrance to a store because of such a sign (reading, of course, "no kangaroos or Chinese"). He promises Joshua that they will put one up as well, and the boy demands that spiders be the outlawed animals.

The day of Joshua's birthday arrives, and the family has a grand party planned for him. Dora's mother will be attending; she has been absent from her grandson's life up until this point. Before the party, Joshua puts up a valiant fight to avoid bathing before his party. His aversion to baths and showers will play an important role in a later scene which is both frightening and entertaining. The joyous day is cut short when Dora goes to pick up her mother and returns to find the house a shambles. Guido and Joshua have been taken.

At this point I urged Nathan to go to bed. I didn't think he would be able to handle the concentrations camp, particularly right before bed. He was setting himself up for horrible nightmares. But he insisted on staying. And so the movie transitioned as Dora, unable to convince the train station guard to release Guido, Joshua, and Uncle Leo, demands to board the train that is taking her family to the concentration camp. Joshua is pleased, because Guido has already told him that this abrupt journey is a surprise for his birthday. Upon arriving at the camp, Joshua expresses his distaste for the train ride; Guido agrees with his disappointment and promises that they will take a bus on the ride home.

Guido and Joshua are able to stay together, but Uncle Leo and Dora are taken to different parts of the camp. "They're on other teams," Guido explains. He tells his son that this is all a great big game and that the winner will receive a real tank. When they arrive in the barracks, he translates the rules of the camp for the company -- except that he doesn't know German, and he makes it up as he goes along, creating the rules of the game which Joshua must play. Whenever Joshua expresses doubt as to the way the game is going, Guido restores his faith, and he assures his son that the children who are telling him the truth about the camps are really just trying to throw him off and win the tank for themselves.

Despite the hard labor he must perform all day and the heavy foreboding that is weighing him down, Guido puts all his energy into protecting his son's innocence and keeping his faith alive. At the same time, he find ways to let his wife know that he is still alive and thinking about her. The manner in which he accomplishes these tasks is often just short of miraculous, and my brother noted that "he can't keep this up forever". If a date had been mentioned previously in the movie, I missed it; I had no idea how far along the war was. I told Nathan that maybe the camps were on the verge of being liberated. Relief flooded through me when this turned out to be the case.

But the horror was not over yet. The final hours before the liberation of the camp are the most terrifying yet, and circumstances are about to test how far a man's love for his family can go. I won't reveal the ending except to say that it is bittersweet. No movie about the Holocaust can end happily; far too many lives were ruined for that. But they can end hopefully, and this one does.

Life is Beautiful is a hilarious comedy, a riveting drama, a frightening look into one of the most horrifying events in history. But most of all, it is a love story. A story of a man's love for his wife, his love for his son, his love for life. A story of the power of love to triumph over the direst of circumstances. A story more than deserving of the praise which was heaped upon it.

I was shocked to discover that my mom had not known anything about the movie except its language of origin previous to watching it. She'd only heard that it was a wonderful film. The horrors of the camp hit her very hard. Nathan, meanwhile, was left feeling optimistic after the film's final resolution. Both agreed that it was a wonderful movie; I certainly concurred.

As for the contention that a comedy about the Holocaust makes light of the suffering there, I feel compelled to quote Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H's famous comic. When asked how he could always be making jokes while spending his days amidst the bloody aftermath of battle, he replied, "It's the only way I can open my mouth without screaming." The Holocaust was a terrible chapter in world history. As such, it is the ideal backdrop for a film which attempts to prove that hope springs eternal and sometimes laughter really is the best medicine.

It's a Dream Come True

When I was very little, we had the record for Joseph, and I recall listening to it and enjoying it. But somehow or another it got misplaced, and for years the only thing I could remember about the show was "It was red and yellow and green and brown and blue."

But three years ago, I was with my cousin listening to an Andrew Lloyd Weber tape when Any Dream Will Do came on. It sounded awfully familiar, and my heart skipped a beat as I heard it. Then, a couple of songs later, Close Every Door began to play, and it just about blew me away. A wave of wistful nostalgia washed over me as I fell in love with this song I had last heard when I was probably no more than three years old. The two songs which had been dimly lurking in the shadows of my subconscious mind emerged now, and I was determined to bring them into full light. Imagine my delight when, a few days later, I was flipping through channels and found an ice skater doing a routine to Close Every Door!

I became desperate to find the soundtrack, and I finally met with success in Media Play. Ecstatic, I took home my new tape and played it over and over again. Within the week I knew it by heart, and my aunt bought me the sheet music. Then, just this year, I was thrilled to discover that the play I loved so much but had never seen was going to be performed by youth at our local theater. I was grinning from ear to ear when I left the Playhouse, finally having seen Joseph as well as hearing it. Sure, these were not professional actors, but the show debuted as an elementary school program, after all.

Well, when I heard last week that Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat with Donny Osmond was going to be on PBS last night, I was on cloud nine. I absolutely could not wait to see it. And I was not disappointed.

Going back to its roots as an elementary school production, it begins with a crowd of schoolchildren in uniforms streaming into the school auditorium. Excited to be out of class, they chatter noisily until a severe look from their bespectacled teacher renders them silent. Stiff-necked and formal, the other teachers, mostly men, file in and sit down. An uncomfortable silence ensues as the audience waits for their special guest. As she arrives, flying through the auditorium and dropping her purse, the children erupt into laughter. Regaining her composure, she steps up to the podium on the stage and begins the tale...

As the narrator begins, she is singing directly to the children, and she even leaves the stage to wander among the audience. She finishes her introduction of "the story of a boy whose dreams came true" and Donny Osmond, white-robed as Joseph, emerges in a dramatic burst of fog. Making his way to the stage, he mingles with the children while singing a bright version of Any Dream Will Do. When the song is finished, the red curtain is opened to reveal the narrator in Canaan, where the story really begins.

Much of the charm of this particular version of the show lies in the fact that, although it is a movie, it is presented as a play. The scenery makes no attempt at being realistic; it is as fanciful as possible. Fake sheep on a turnstile, a giant Pharaoh's head whose face lifts up to reveal the pharaoh himself, and an oddly surrealistic jail cell are only a few examples of the overall stagey quality of the show. A grotesquely hilarious scene involves the brothers dismembering a very fake goat, yanking off his legs which have bloody stumps on the end. And when Joseph is trying to get out of the well, watch for his goofy encounter with a cobra puppet that he is obviously controlling himself.

The costumes are phenomenal, and Joseph's coat truly is amazing. Some of the women in Potiphar's home and Pharaoh's palace are clad in rather risque regalia, but it is tasteful enough that I wouldn't worry about young eyes being corrupted by it.

And the songs...what can one possibly say about them? Ranging in style from Western to French to Calypso to 20s gramophone, each song is pure gold. The children lend their harmonies to many of the songs, most notably Any Dream Will Do and Close Every Door. At times rushing onstage and instantaneously changing clothes, other times singing from the audience, their sweet, pure voices sound like a chorus of angels as they are swept into participation in the story.

Ramses, the pharaoh who looks and acts suspiciously like an American King of the 50s, delights the audience as he demonstrates "how we rock and roll in Egypt". Maria Friedman is versatile in her role as narrator, simultaneously observer and participant in the tale. The brothers provide one laugh after another as they don Southern, French, and Caribbean accents. And grandfatherly Richard Attenborough's low-key performance as Jacob, the father of Joseph and, eventually, the entire Israeli nation, radiates with warmth and tenderness.

Dripping with sincerity that even Linus van Pelt would be hard-pressed to match, Donny is enchanting as the starry-eyed youth who rises to greatness despite his brothers' nearly fatal jealousy. His expressions of disgust, confusion, and fear at various points in the show are priceless, and the sheer panic evident in his face as he is repeatedly fallen upon by throngs of ruthless women will have you in gales of laughter. His ingratiating smile lights up the screen time and time again, and the pain and concern in his eyes in Potiphar's dungeon and upon his reunion with his family, particularly his father, are nothing short of heart-wrenching.

After years of fervently wishing Joseph would come to video, my prayers have finally been answered more fabulously than I dared hope. The play-within-a-play idea is unique and truly made me feel like a part of the production. Excellent acting, delightful scenery, fabulous songs, and lots of slapstick bring this beloved Bible story to life in a way that is reminiscent of an elementary school production. The movie retains that charm, though it does include a few cinematic tricks that are expertly interspersed throughout the film. We get to see Joseph flung unceremoniously into a pit not once but twice, and the second time his descent appears endless, like Alice down the rabbit's hole.

A much more light-hearted production than Jesus Christ Superstar, Joseph can get away with the abundant anachronisms. Indeed, they are deeply ingrained into the play; such numbers as Pharaoh's Dream, One More Angel in Heaven, and Go Go Go Joseph demand it. And because it is done as a theatrical production, somewhat similar to Peter Pan and Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella, it is encapsulated in its own whimsical world where anything goes. Of contrast to this is the film version of Jesus Christ Superstar, which is filmed in a vast expanse of desert which simply doesn't fit in with the wacky costumes and oddly placed props.

The grand finale of Any Dream Will Do tops off the movie, soft and gentle in the beginning as Joseph receives from his father the coat which he lost so many years ago. The children chime in with an echo as Joseph grows louder, and he is the joined in exquisite harmony by the narrator. Finally, the entire cast belts out the final verse, and as Joseph demands "Give me my colored coat, my amazing colored coat" the cluster around him disperses, forming a beautiful multi-colored Star of David with Joseph in the center.

Even the credits are entertaining, as we get to see which teacher corresponds to which character. Of some disappointment to me is the way Joan Collins (Mrs. Potiphar/the elementary school spinster) is given co-star billing in everything I have read when she played such a minor role. I think Maria Friedman got slighted, not receiving proper acknowledgment for her excellent work in this film. However, that is a marketing concern and did not detract from my enjoyment of the film.

This movie is an absolute delight for all ages. The timeless tale of ambition and loyalty will never grow old, especially when preserved so delightfully as it is on this video. Who knew that nine chapters of Genesis could be this much fun?