"The Juggler" with Kirk Douglas (1953)

 

This was my first time seeing this film. I had never heard of it before today. It was posted on You Tube 5 days ago. Kirk Douglas plays Hans Müller, a displaced German freed from the Concentration Camps. It is 1949 and he arrives in the newly formed State of Israel.

Before the war he was a famous juggler and ventriloquist in Germany. He thought his fame would shield him from the Nuremberg Laws and all that followed. So he stayed. And paid the price. 

Now, in Israel, and in a Camp for newly arrived Refugees, he initially mistakes a woman for his deceased wife. He doesn't adjust well to the camp, or the attempts to assimilate him into society. He flees the camp and sets off to see the outside. 

What happens next is the story of a man who has been traumatized and now becomes hunted in a new land where he is supposed to be accepted. It is a gripping film. And Kirk Douglas is perfect in his role, along with all the rest of the cast. I highly recommend this film.

"The Boy in the Striped Pajamas" with Asa Butterfield and David Thewlis (2008)

This is a film about the unthinkable. This is also a very intense film; although not at first. It is only after the stage has been set that you realize where this film might be heading; and then, even when you do, there is still a doubt as to what will actually transpire.

An SS officer and his family move into a beautiful home somewhere in the countryside. The home is part of Commandant Ralf’s assignment as the commander of a German facility of some kind. That is al his son knows. There is a Jewish servant in striped pajamas who does all sorts of work about the house. His mistreatment at the hands of young Bruno’s father is the first clue that boy has that something is not quite “normal” about his new home.

Bruno; played by Asa Butterfield; is an intelligent little 8 year old with a precocious 12 year old sister named Gretel; played by Amber Beattie. She is mostly concerned with acting older than her age and is a very insensitive person; not at all like Bruno. Their mother, Elsa; played by Vera Farmiga; is more like Bruno. She is a sensitive and kind woman who doesn’t understand her husband’s hatred and fanaticism.

Bruno discovers a back wall to the house garden and this leads him to the edge of the wooded area surrounding his new home. What he sees when he emerges into a clearing puzzles him. It is a bleak looking collection of wooden barracks surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Inside are people who look haggard and worn out. Bruno spots a boy, about his own age, loitering by the fence. He is wearing striped pajamas, just as the servant in his home. His father has told him that these people are not human beings at all, and they are to be despised. Bruno approaches the fence and the boy, who is named Shmuel; played by Jack Scanlon; and the two become sort of friends.

One day Bruno comes home to find Shmuel in his home cleaning the crystal glasses. His fingers are just the right size for the work; which is the only reason he has been selected. Bruno is happy to see him there and offers him some of the food from the table. When his father’s aide comes in and sees this he is enraged. Bruno is too frightened and confused to admit that he gave the food to Shmuel, and the boy is taken away.

Days later Bruno meets him again at the fence and is shocked to see that Shmuel has been beaten. He apologizes for not owning up to his act of kindness, explaining that he was scared. Bruno forgives him and enlists his aid in finding his “missing” father in the camp. In a scene reminiscent of “The Prince and the Pauper” Bruno dons an extra set of pajamas provided by Shmuel and joins him inside the compound to look for the missing man.

As luck would have it the two boys are caught up in a group headed to the “showers”. At the same time as these events are occurring Bruno’s mother notices that he is nowhere to be found. Summoning her husband and his soldiers they look for the boy, only to discover open gate in the backyard wall leading to the compound.

As the search intensifies Bruno’s parents realize the possibility that he has entered the camp; prompting a furious search to discover him before the unthinkable happens. Sparse direction and incredibly underplayed acting make this film one which you will be thinking about long after the final credits have rolled.

"The Pawnbroker" with Rod Steiger (1965)

Very few actors ever hone their craft to the knife’s edge the way Rod Steiger did. Bogart, DeNiro, even Denzel Washington are all recognizable as themselves in most films. Steiger was on a par with Frederic March, another actor with that chameleon like quality which enabled the viewer to suddenly go, “Hey, isn’t that (insert name here)?” half way through a film, and still not be sure it was until the final credits rolled. Walter Huston had that same magic. He was tall, about 6’2”, yet he is always remembered as the wizened little miner in “Treasure of the Sierra Madres.” A giant of an actor, he just played it small.

Rod Steiger’s credits include the corrupt union boss in “On the Waterfront”, the Police Chief in “In the Heat of the Night” (it took him a year to stop chewing gum after that film), the disgruntled juror forced to face his own prejudice in “Twelve Angry Men” and a score of other roles. But more than any other role, his performance in “The Pawnbroker” was possibly his most searing as he portrays a man who has lost his wife and children to the the Nazi’s, along with the ability to love or even feel.

His assistant in the shop wants to learn to be a businessman, just like his boss. He even asks the Pawnbroker to teach him how to be a Jew- to make money- to share his secrets. The Pawnbrokers scathing reply is in the clip below.

There is always a steady succession of people who are down on their luck who come to the shop to pawn the most trivial of their possessions in order to survive. The Pawnbroker dispassionately serves their needs, all the while cursing his own past and the misery of the world about him. He has a partnership with the local crime boss, who used the pawnshop to “launder” the profits he makes from dealing drugs and pimping prostitutes. The Pawnbroker seems indifferent to the misey which supplies the money he lives upon.

Constantly plagued by memories of the concentration camp, he inhabits a world filled with flashbacks to the most horrifying moments of his wartime ordeal. One of those memories involves being forced to look into the building where the female prisoners are forced to work as sex slaves. One of the women he sees is his own wife. When one of the local working girls comes to him with something to pawn she offers him sex in addition to the trade as a way of getting more money.

The Pawnbroker finds himself in a moral dilemma; haunted by the memory of his wife’s ordeal and at the same time facilitating the misery of others in his present day world. He goes to see the crime boss, stating that he did not know where the money came from. The boss just laughs at him and asks him the same question Jews the world over posed to the German people at the end of the war. “How could you not have known?”

In the meantime his assistant has taken the Pawnbroker at his word that money is all that matters if you want to get ahead in the world. You must have it at any cost. So, he decides to help some local hoods rob the pawnshop, where the Pawnbroker keeps some of the laundered money from the crime boss. There is to be no killing. That’s the plan.

But in the end there is always killing. Nobody gets out alive, even if they sometimes are still walking and breathing. This is an intense and moving drama about the human condition and the lines we draw to identify ourselves; and others; as good or evil. And, sometimes we find that they are both just different sides of the same coin.

With a great script from a great book, directed by Sidney Pollack and filmed in a gritty New York City, this film makes good use of the soundtrack by Quincy Jones as it navigates the question of morality which we all must face at one time or another; “Am I a good person; or a bad one?”

The Night of Broken Glass

Growing up in Brooklyn, New York in the 1950’s and 1960’s was like growing up in the shadow of the Second World War. To know about the Holocaust is one thing, but to live amongst people who were affected by it; either by a friends family members, who were left behind in Europe and never made it through the war, or the many survivors; or refugees as they were known; who bore the blue inked numerical tattoo affixed to their wrists, was quite another. That tattoo identified them as survivors of the death camps, and these persons were revered, as they had looked death squarely in the eye and lived.

Today is the 75^th anniversary of Kristallnacht, or the “Night of Broken Glass”. This photo shows the shock and fear on the faces of the little boy and his mother, prompting me to wonder if they were Jewish. Most likely they were not; as any sane person of Jewish heritage would have been indoors when this photo was taken after the first night of killing and burning had ended. But shock and fear know no ethnic boundaries, and these 2 people may just be reacting to the world having gone mad; seemingly in an instant; although the storm had been gathering since about 1933. Like Katrina in New Orleans, most people hoped the big storm would never arrive, changing everything.

The toll from the Night of Broken Glass was written up in terms of how many buildings destroyed, how many lives lost and the like. But all of those figures can never do justice to what was really lost in that night of Nazi fueled hatred. The 267 synagogues, stores, and homes destroyed that night at the direction of the Nazis, along with the vandalism of 7,500 Jewish businesses, and the killing of almost 100 Jewish people were just the tangible portion of the damage.

The events of November 9-10, 1938, while police and firemen stood by and watched; or turned a blind eye; signaled the selling of the German soul. And the judgment for that would be severe.

Kristallnacht marked the point of the Third Reich in which vulgar political rhetoric became vulgar acts of criminality. These acts would grow into the largest attempt ever made to annihilate any particular group of people. And that is the point of marking this grim anniversary. In our country today, we have so many hate groups, all engaged in violent and inhuman rhetoric. And that’s how it starts. With a bit of talk, leading people to become jaded in the face of veiled racism and prejudice.

And, what happens later, when it all spirals out of control? You wind up walking down a street scarred by once seemingly innocuous words; windows broken and holding your child’s hand in fear for the loss of everything you have ever known. Especially your own self-respect.

Holocaust Homage?

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw this photo earlier this week. I really had to think about doing this post, as I do not want to offend anyone at all. I’m just confused. As a Jew, I am prohibited from marking my body, with the exception of circumcision, which is considered to be a mark of faith in God. We all know, or should know, the story of Abraham and Isaac, when God commands Abraham to kill his son in order to ascertain his faith in the Lord. At the last moment, Abraham’s hand was stayed by God, and Isaac lived as a sign of God’s mercy. Of course the Islamic religion claims that it was Isaac’s brother, Ismael, who received this mercy, but that is neither here nor there as far as this post goes.

If you believe in the Old Testament, then tattooing your body is clearly prohibited by Mosaic Law as espoused in Leviticus 19:28, which prohibits "cutting oneself for the dead" and "putting writing/drawings made by incision on yourselves“. So, it seems pretty clear to me what this young man’s responsibility to his religion is comprised of when tattooing is concerned. I am also sensitive to his desire to honor his grandmother, although totally befuddled by the method in which he chose to do it, as well as her apparent adoration of him for it.

During the Second World War, at Auschwitz, Livia Rebak was branded, or tattooed, with the number 4559. This was the way the Nazi’s dehumanized their victims; turning their names into numbers in a ledger, prior to annihilating them en masse. Now her grandson, Daniel Philosof, has the same tattoo. This has me very confused.

On the one hand, it is admirable that he would emphasize with his Grandmaother, almost as if he were cutting his hair in support of her undergoing radiation, or chemotherapy. I can understand the reasoning behind it. But, to mutilate yourself, in violation of your own religion; in effect acting in concert with the people who defiled your grandmother and her beliefs; makes no sense to me at all. It’s almost like handing Hitler a Victory lap, voluntarily scarring another generation of Jews with the same mark of inferiority and shame, simply for being Jewish.

My own feelings are that he would better serve in honoring his grandmother by wearing a big Star of David; proudly proclaiming to the world that he is here in spite of the tattoo which was forced upon his grandmother.

To be sure, this was a very personal decision which both Ms. Rebak and her grandson have made, and they have that right. But I just wish he would have opted to go with the Star of David instead. For, in my mind’s eye, I can see Hitler laughing.

Rev. Charles Worley - For the Love of Christ

The Reverend Charles Worley, Pastor of Providence Road Baptist Church in Maiden, North Carolina; which is about 40 miles from my house; has caused quite a stir with his call for concentration camps for homosexuals. If you haven’t heard this story yet, you should. It is a direct refutation of the attitude that “it can’t happen here.” The reaction of the 300, or so, members of Providence Baptist Church is proof positive that it can. If you haven’t seen the video just listen for the “Amens” as the Reverend calls for a 150 mile long fence, with Lesbians on one side and “the queers and homosexuals in another; and have that fence electrified so they can’t get out…… Feed ‘em , and you know what? In a few years they’ll die. Do you know why? They can’t reproduce.” Ah, good Reverend, were it only that simple.

You see, the Reverend’s plan would not work as he thinks. It would become necessary for the camps to remain in continual operation to kill off any newborns from the heterosexual population who might later identify as homosexual. Apparently this would be just fine with the Reverend and his congregation, all of whom; I would assume; are anti-abortion. I have to wonder what would happen the first time that one of the congregant’s children showed signs of homosexuality. I suppose that then it would be okay to kill your own child; years after that child has been born. So, by this logic, abortion of an un-born fetus would still be wrong, but killing your own kid later would be acceptable.  Can you even believe that we are having this conversation in 2012?  You better believe it, because we are.

I am reminded of the scene in one of my favorite films, “Judgment at Nuremberg”, when the German defense attorney reads the following words concerning sterilization of the incompetent; “It is better for all the world, if instead of waiting to execute degenerate offspring for crime, or to let them starve for their imbecility, society can prevent those who are manifestly unfit from continuing their kind... Three generations of imbeciles are enough.”

Chilling as these words are, they were spoken by Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes in his decision of Buck v. Bell in 1927. That case concerned itself with one young woman who was sterilized by the state against her will. That these words were flung back in our own faces during the Nuremberg Trials by the German defense attorney was almost comical. Not only had we pre-dated the Nazi’s with our embrace of the sterilization program  of which they stood accused, we actually re-started the program here in North Carolina the year following the Nuremberg trials, in 1948! That program was not discontinued here until 1964, and the state of North Carolina is just now making financial reparations to surviving victims of that cruel injustice.

So don’t say it "can’t happen here". It can; and will; unless we all stand up and loudly denounce the bigots who seek to divide us. Right now, the rumblings of the past are only 40 miles from my door.

"The Diary of Anne Frank" with Millie Perkins, Joseph Schildkraut and Shelley Winters

If you haven't seen this movie in a while, then it is worth re-visiting, as I did last night. In the wake of larger productions such as Steven Spielberg's "Schindler's List", as well as some of the more recent film documentaries about the Holocaust in general, which are all magnificent works in their own right, it is refreshing to see a film as simply made as this one. A film that explores the plight of one family, and their guests, in a hidden attic apartment, simply trying to survive. There is no overview of the Nazi Holocaust, it serves merely as the backdrop against which this group of human beings is forced to struggle. Rather than detract from, this approach actaully adds a singularly human element to the film.

It's easy to get lost in the history of the Nazi's, focusing on the atrocities. But sometimes it can be more telling to step back and look at the effect on one family in order to gain a wider understanding of just what it meant to be hunted and persecuted like animals. The horrors of the conentration camps are so cruel and terrible, that viewing them can seem almost abstract, when compared to the more easily imagined discomfort of being shut away from all that you have known. The small, cramped attic apartment can be even more daunting, in some respects, than the open areas of a concentration camp. In the camps, you were already discovered, and rid of that fear. Your fate was sealed. In the attic, there was still hope, but with that hope came the constant, unrelenting fear of discovery. And that way of living can take it's own toll as well.

The tiered construction of the set, comprising the 3 floors of the building in which the Frank family lived, gives the viewer a good idea of just how close the family was to discovery with each passing day. Confined to bed during the daylight hours, with no talking allowed, the only view of the sky through a skylight, wondering if that police siren is coming to you, these were the circumstances under which the family lived and Anne Frank wrote her diary.

Millie Perkins is wonderful as the young Anne Frank, stumbling through her early teenage years hidden away in the attic. Joseph Schildkraut, arguably one of the best actors of all time, is gentle and nuturing as her father. He is the leader of this band of hidden refugees. His words are always measured, his decisions always clearly thought through. He is a responsible and very well liked man.

Shelley Winters is in fine form in this film, playing Petronella Van Daan, the wife of Peter Van Daan, played by Richard Beymer to perfection. They are the couple who have come to stay with the Frank family. She is a woman who is frustrated and angry, someone who wishes that she could just go back and do it over. It is clear that she does not love her husband. He, on the other hand, is a man who feels beaten and betrayed by everything, including his wife.

Ed Wynn is his usual mixture of comedy and pathos, playing the role of Albert Dussell, a non observant Jew who is thrust upon the family in the middle of the film, at a time when the Jews were being snatched off the streets and taken away for the "Final Solution." He is crass and angry, with a feigned allergy to the cat that lives in the attic with the family.

Frances Goodrich wrote the play, as well as the script for the movie, using the Diary of Anne Frank. If you have ever read the book, then you have marveled at how this 14 year old girl was able to capture all of the nuances involved in living in such close quarters, both with the people she loved, as well as perfect strangers. Where did such insights come from?

When the Nazi's do finally come in, it is with all the force and brutality that one expects. And in the end, all that is left is Anne's diary. That little book will stand on it's own merit for eternity. In it are the hopes and dreams of not just one young girl, but of all humanity, calling out collectively for dignity, freedom and justice. Is that too much to ask for?