Features
Israeli Consulate to screen incredible film about Israeli photographer Amos Nachoum – produced by Nancy Spielberg
By BERNIE BELLAN Two and a half years ago we published a story by Martin Zeilig about a new documentary produced by Nancy Spielberg about an incredibly brave Israeli deep sea photographer by the name of Amos Nachoum. From April 22-29 you can watch that amazing documentary at https://youtu.be/TCLUq_4BoFU. Click on Read more to find out about how this film was made and how you can interact with the film’s director, Yonatan Nir on April 29.
Here is the information we were sent by the Israeli Consulate in Toronto: “This film follows the journey of world-renowned underwater wildlife photographer Amos Nachoum in his effort to photograph a polar bear up close while swimming with it – an incredibly dangerous and nearly impossible feat – all the while painting a nuanced picture of Nachoum’s complex life and relationships. Nachoum is the only underwater wildlife photographer in the world to attempt (and succeed at) this shoot, with the help of a couple local Inuit. The film also reminds viewers of the disruptions these polar bears experience in their ecosystems due to environmental changes, and stresses the importance of preserving it.”
On April 29 the Consulate will be holding a webinar with Yonatan Nir. Register here: https://bit.ly/3ghPMJY
Here is the story that Martin Zeilig wrote in 2019 about the film and about his interview with the film’s director:PICTURE OF HIS LIFE (Directors: Yonatan Nir and Dani Menkin Hey Jude Productions Playmount Productions– Executive Producer: Nancy Spielberg 2019)
review/interview By Martin Zeilig
At one point in this remarkable and awe-inspiring documentary film, world renowned Israeli wildlife photographer Amos Nachoum is interviewed while sitting on a rock on the barren shores of Baker Lake, Nunavut.
“Believing in yourself, and going on with it, no matter what the obstacle, this all the power of being here. This is life,” the stocky 65 year old says with a deep-seated emotion in his voice, while raising a clinched fist in fierce determination as he shifts his gaze slightly to the camera.
It’s a stirring moment.
The film follows Nachoum in the Canadian Arctic, as he prepares for his decisive challenge- to photograph a polar bear underwater, while swimming alongside it.
“It’s his final remaining photographic dream,” says the film’s publicity material.
As the journey unfolds, so does an intimate and painful story of dedication, sacrifice and personal redemption.
“Amos to me is one of the best ambassadors of the ocean,” Jean Michel Cousteau, the celebrated Oceanographic Explorer, says in an off camera commentary. “He takes huge amount of risks to bring those images, which no one has ever been able to capture.”
“He comes back with images that no one has been able to get,” adds Adam Ravetch, Emmy Award winning cinematographer, who is part of the team filming the documentary. “He is probably the best underwater still photographer in the world.”
Marine biologist Sylvia Earle, the female chief scientist at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, also attests to Nachoum’s prowess as an underwater wildlife photographer.
We see some of the striking shots that Amos has captured over the years: an open jawed leopard seal moments before it’s about to chomp into a penguin in the waters of Antarctica; amazing (and chilling) close-ups of great white sharks; blue whales; anacondas in the Amazon; snow leopards in the Himalayas; a huge crocodile resting on the bottom of an African river, and much more.
The film’s US premiere was July 25 at the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival, with a follow-up screening July 28 and a separate screening in San Rafael on August 2, noted an article earlier this summer in The Times of Israel (In Arctic, polar bear is final frontier for famed Israeli wildlife photographer). Earlier this year, the film debuted at Docaviv in Tel Aviv, with Nachoum attending the screening.
‘“Be calm and collected with wildlife,”’ Nachoum, who was interviewed by The Times of Israel, said in the article. ‘“The biggest mistake all photographers do is be quite aggressive.”’
Nachoum has a fractious relationship with his father. On a visit home, the father belittles his son for not living up to his standards. He wanted his only son to become a carpenter and to settle down with a wife and children.
Another scene shows him on life support systems in a hospital room calling for Amos.
During the 1973 Yom Kippur War, Nachoum served with an elite unit. The experience left him shattered.
“Speaking about his service still left him “very emotional, my hair standing still,” he says in The Times of Israel article. He was also a war photographer in Israel.
He left for the United States shortly after his stint in the army to pursue his dream of becoming an underwater wildlife photographer.
“Calmness is important even when photographing the polar bear – which can include Homo sapiens as part of its diet,” he said in The Times of Israel story, and which Adam Ravetch emphasizes in the film.
A male polar bear can weigh up to 750 kilograms and are exceptional swimmers. “Polar bears usually dive 3 to 4.5 m i.e. 9.8-14.8 feet deep into the cold water of arctic and can hold their breath for Researchers really don’t know that actually how deep can a polar more than three minutes,” says the Zoologist website. “But they estimated that it can dive as deep as 6m i.e. 20 feet.”
Nachoum’s first effort at photographing a polar bear in arctic waters occurred in 2005. It “nearly proved deadly” for him, noted The Times of Israel .
‘“I was scared to death,”’ he said to the reporter. ‘“I was laughing about it, but I was scared. My heart was pounding. Yet, I wanted to do it again.”’
“His second attempt, in 2015, helped Menkin and Nir culminate what they describe as a 10-year odyssey to make the film,” the Israeli newspaper states.
Nachoum and his crew, including, of course, their Inuit guides, have a five day window in which to find and photograph a polar bear in the water.
Their first sighting takes place on Day two. It’s a big male polar bear.
Nachoum is ready to with full scuba gear. He plunges backwards into the icy waters from the side of the boat.
The aggressive bear dives after this camera totting intruder. It’s a heart stopping moment.
The screen goes blank for several seconds. But, Nachoum managed to elude Nanook in the nick of time.
He’s a bit shaken by the experience and disappointed.
Without giving away too much, success is achieved on the final day.
A mother bear and her two large cubs are spotted swimming in the lake. Nachoum dives into the water. It’s a miraculous moment.
The final scene shows Nachoum returning to Israel to visit his father’s gravesite. He places a special gift on the gravestone– a small framed photograph of the three bears taken underwater.
A voice over of the late Canadian poet/musician/novelist, Leonard Cohen, singing his song, Anthem, plays as the credits begin to roll: “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
The directors agreed to an email interview with this newspaper.
The Jewish Post & News: 1)What were some difficulties involved in making this film?
Menkin: There are two sides to this question. One is technical and the other is psychological / personal. The technical issues were huge– starting with selling a film about a man who is 65 years old and wants to do something that no one ever done before him, and that when HE tried to do it before – he almost got killed.
So prior to the shooting in the Arctic many potential financiers said: “Please keep us posted, it sounds amazing – call us when you come back… alive….”
Then when we finally raised the money, we had to build the whole infrastructure for the production by ourselves. There are no diving clubs over there, no hotels or transportation. We had to ship compressors, ice diving equipment, generators, food, fuel, and so on. I had to fly on nine flights from Israel to the location of the shooting.
Then to live there in the middle of nowhere and to find the right bears and create the opportunity for Amos to get into the water and have a peaceful encounter with these magnificent animals… it is all very complicated.
We could not have done it without ADAM RAVETCH – who is not only the best Arctic Cinematographer in the world (and not only in my opinion), but also has 25 years of experience working with the Inuit people in the high Arctic.
Of course we could not have done it without the Kaludjack family. Two members of the family, Billy and Patrick Kaludjak, who were with us on the shoot, died a year and a half later when their snowmobile broke through the ice.
Our film is dedicated to the memory of these two wonderful human beings, who we had the privilege to know even if it was for a short period of time.
The other difficulty was to get our protagonist open up and talk about things that he kept inside for 40 years. It is always a complicated issue to get someone’s trust; it’s more complicated when it’s on film and it’s even more complicated when your protagonist is one of the best and most famous in his field.
JP&N: How long did it take to film?
Nir: It took us 10 years to get this movie off the ground. It was also how Yonatan and I have met, and started to work on this and DOLPHIN BOY (another of their films). The main reason it took us so long was that we had to raise a feature film budget for a documentary; and we were deferring to go with Amos all the way to the arctic and try to take his picture.
JP&N: Please share some anecdotes/incidents in the making of the Picture of His Life.
Menkin: One day, we left Adam and Billy Kauldjack RIP on a small island, maybe 50 meters by 10 meters with a camera and a drone.
We wanted to get a shot of Amos alone in the water in the empty Arctic sea… we never used that shot in the film BTW (by the way).
We sailed away from them (to allow) Adam to fly the drone back and forth above Amos with no boats in the frame. The time passed, strong winds, maybe 20 minutes (later).
When Adam reported to us that he got the shot, we sailed back to Amos to take him out of the water. He was very cold, so we warmed him up with some hot water and tea when suddenly I hear screaming from the little island.
I looked back terrified. I thought a bear got on the island or something like that, and to my amazement there was no island, literally.
The tide came in very fast and almost drowned Adam and Billy with our expensive gear. We sailed as fast as we could to get them out of there in the very last second.
JP&N: How long have you two been working together?
Nir: After (his first film) 39 POUNDS OF LOVE, I met Yonatan when I was approached by a producer to direct the film about Amos. We joined forces on DOLPHIN BOY and now PICTURE OF HIS LIFE while we both have our own films. Yonatan focuses on documentaries, like MY HERO BROTHER, and I’m writing and directing fiction and docs. We are good friends and both like road trip movies and wanted to give this story all the elements we have in our previous work.
JP&N: What has been the response in Israel to the film?
Menkin: The response is unbelievable. We are in cinemas all over the country, and sold out almost every screening. The story of Amos with the Yom Kippur war is the story of a whole generation.
People love adventures and inspiring human beings who chase their dreams and are fighting their own fears, doubts and inner demons. To my happiness, people in Israel are starting to care about the future of our planet more and more, and our film is also about that. There is something to relate to in our film for everyone.
The most touching feedback to the film was from my eight year old daughter who said, “Abba I liked the film very much. I just didn’t like it when Amos father was yelling at him and I didn’t understand why did you have to include wars in your film?”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
JP&N: Anything else you’d like to add?
Nir: We just premiered PICTURE OF HIS LIFE in North America, and got incredible reviews and standing ovations. We are excited to tour with it around the world (in Canada as well) and spread the message.
Features
I Speak “Jew”
By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence
By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco
By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.