Features
New movie tells story of Joseph Bau, whose dramatization of his marriage in Plazow concentration camp to his wife Rebecca was an unforgettable scene in the movie “Schindler’s List”

By MARTIN ZEILIG A new movie, to be released this coming September, tells the incredible story of Joseph Bau, a Holocaust survivor, master forger, animator, and artist whose own illustrated memoir, Dear God, Have You Ever Gone Hungry? was published in 1998 (Arcade Publishing 1998; Shlomo Yurman, translator).
In that book, Joseph Bau (who lived from 1920-2002) shares his experiences during World War II, including his time spent in various concentration camps. The book also tells of his marriage to his fellow inmate, Rebecca Tennenbaum , within the infamous Plaszow concentration camp.

The scene of the secret marriage ceremony between Joseph and Rebecca (who lived from 1919-1987) on February 14, 1943 was famously dramatized in a short, but poignant scene, in Steven Spielberg’s Academy Award-winning movie, “Schindler’s List.”
A gripping new movie, “Bau, Artist at War” (produced by Deborah Smerecnik, Sean McNamara, David Brookwell, Marc and Michelle Griffith; and distributed by Paramount), is based in large part on Joseph Bau’s memoir. The film was written by Deborah Smerecnik, Ron Bass, and Sonia Kifferstein.
Directed with great skill by award-winning director Sean McNamara and featuring stellar performances by Emile Hirsch (who appeared in “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood”) as the protagonist, and Inbar Lavi (who appeared in the Israeli television series “Fauda” and the U.S. television series “Imposters”) as Rebecca, the movie is a combination love story and espionage tale that deserves attention in an era, as one commentator has said, “where survivors are fading away, and the Holocaust is slipping from memory.”
It’s also a story about resistance during the Holocaust.
“Because of the understandable need to see light in this dark period, the word ‘resistance’ has been stretched to cover all manner of cultural expression: lectures, reading and discussion circles, theatrical presentations, musical concerts, and even the struggle to maintain one’s moral and spiritual integrity, one’s very humanity, have all been held up as acts of resistance,” Dr. Lionel Steiman, a retired professor of history at the University of Manitoba, has written.
The film depicts how years after the war and, despite his reluctance at first, Jospeh was called upon to be a key witness in the trial of the brutal Nazi officer Franz Gruen, portrayed with frightening intensity by Yan Tual. Gruen had tortured Bau in Plaszow and had killed his father before Joseph’s eyes. Joseph Bau is thrust back into vivid memories of suffering and loss.
But, Bau is no longer the victim. The climactic court scene is a testament to the seamless combination of intelligent scripting, skillful direction and brilliant acting.
“Franz Gruen was finally convicted for his crimes against humanity and lived out the rest of his days in prison,” says information that appears on screen at the film’s conclusion.
“In Joseph’s work for the resistance, in both the ghetto and in Plaszow, Joseph saved close to one thousand prisoners. Rebecca also helped to save numerous members of the Resistance in Plaszow by risking her life as a spy in Goethe’s office. After the war, she testified at six Nazi court hearings, where she was essential in garnering justice for the Holocaust victims.
“Rebecca continued her work as an aesthetician, through which she helped survivors heal emotionally. She encouraged her clients to share their pain with her in the safety and privacy of her home.
“When Israel became a nation, Joseph left a lucrative graphic design career in Poland, and he and Rebecca ‘went home’ to Israel in 1950. Joseph continued his artistic pursuits, opening the first animation studio in Israel. He is often referred to as the Walt Disney of Israel.
“After the Holocaust, he continued his efforts on behalf of the Jewish people by becoming the lead forger for the Mossad, the Israel intelligence agency. Joseph forged I.D. documents for many of Israel’s heroes, such as Six Day War spy Eli Cohen, and the men who captured the Nazi Colonel Adolf Eichmann in Argentina. Both Joseph and Rebecca left behind an international legacy of selflessness, happiness, laughter and love.”

Josef and Rebecca Bau were also among those honoured by the B’nai B’rith World Center in Jerusalem and the Committee to Recognize the Heroism of Jewish Rescuers during the Holocaust during a Zoom meeting on Holocaust Martyrs’ and Heroes Remembrance Day (Yom Hashoah, Tuesday, April 21, 2020) “to extol the heroism of some 20 Jews who endangered themselves during the Holocaust to rescue fellow Jews,” noted an article in The Jewish Post & News that was published a few days after the ceremony.
“Bau, Artist at War” is a testament to the supremacy of love, perseverance, defiance and even humor during the worst of times. It’s a life affirming message.
Five stars.

The official theatrical release date will be in September 2024. A trailer of “Bau, Artist at War” is available on the IMDB website.
Co-producer and writer Ms. Smerecnik was the primary investor in the film.
“I’ve been working on it for almost fifteen years,” she said during an interview on May 12.
She also mentioned that she first met Joseph and Rebecca Bau’s daughters, Hadasa and Clilia Bau, who operate the Bau Museum in Israel, in 2009.
“We appreciate the limited release (into 50 theatres in the U.S. and possibly internationally) Paramount will be undertaking. But, we’re looking for a wider release of the movie,” she said.
She added that investors are required to help support that hoped-for wider release. Any investors will get 120 percent of their investment returned, Ms. Smerecnik said.
“They are the first to be paid back from the investor pool,” she said.
“As well, they will be listed as executive producer.”
Ms. Smerecnik can be contacted at the email address: dbsmer@gmail.com
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.