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The Judith Weisz Woodsworth way with words

By GERRY POSNER Winnipeg has turned out some remarkable people, particularly in the arts, and nowhere is that statement more accurate than in the case of Judith Weisz Woodsworth. This woman, a product of Winnipeg’s famous north end, just recently was the recipient of the 2022 Governor General’s Literary Award for French to English translation for her work on the book  “History of The Jews in Quebec.” This was a major achievement and in so many ways, reaching this status boggles the mind.

Judith’s mother’s family is from Budapest while her father’s family comes from eastern Hungary, close to the area where prominent Hasidim reigned. The Weisz side of the family produced 11 children and a couple of them, including Judith’s uncle, Eugene Weis,  later sponsored Judith’s family’s immigration to Canada. 

Baby Judith arrived in Canada with her family in 1949. She grew up at first on Manitoba Avenue near Salter. Does it get more north end than that? She initially attended the Sholem Aleichem kindergarten and then a public school nearby. Her memories are rich with her time spent at the then Tiferes Israel Synagogue. 

The Weisz family eventually made their way to Garden City where Judith graduated from Garden City Collegiate. At that school, Judith was inspired by the principal, Robert ( Bobby) Bend, to broaden her horizon and apply to McGill University. And with that push, off she went at age 17.  Although her parents were devastated to see her leave, they were very supportive, as were her close friends, former Winnipeggers, Carol Novak (now Sevitt) and Nelson Wiseman, who were on hand to say goodbye at the CNR train station. 

Judith attributes her growing up in the multilingual and multicultural north end of Winnipeg as being a significant influence in her life and the direction she ended up taking. Born in Paris, she explains she also  had a romanticized view of France, where her parents had spent a few years prior to coming to Canada. 

Thus, moving to Montreal seemed both exciting and natural. At McGill, she enrolled in literature and philosophy, soon specializing in French literature. She graduated with a BA and then spent a year studying in France – which led to further studies in foreign languages and cultures.  She became a translator by chance, taking on contracts when she was a graduate student. It was not long before she was hired by the Canadian government to work as a translator for National Defence headquarters in Ottawa. 

With a PhD  in hand, combined with her track record with the government, Judith was hired to teach translation at Montreal’s Concordia University. It was there that JWW had a long and extensive career teaching, writing and then serving in a variety of administrative positions. Her administrative duties landed her a job as a Vice -President at Mount St. Vincent University in Halifax. While in Halifax, Judith was asked to be on the board of Pier 21 and, during her tenure on that board, she was part of the official opening of the immigration museum in June, 1999, precisely 50 years after her very own family first set foot in Canada in Halifax. My best guess is that there are few people who can make that claim. 

After her stint in Nova Scotia, Judith worked for six years as president of Laurentian University in Sudbury, in Northern Ontario. Following that gig came an even bigger assignment, as she was invited to become the president of Concordia University in Montreal. That was quite a journey from her modest beginnings and departure from the Winnipeg train station. And then, to round out her life work, she returned to her position as a professor in the French department at Concordia where she spent her final 10 years until retirement in May,2022. Now, that’s  a career!

In the course of her work, JWW travelled to nearly 50 countries and she developed friendships around the world in diverse circles.  She was married to the late Patrick Woodsworth and for those who wonder, yes, Patrick was the grand-nephew of the famous J.S. Woodsworth. Judith is now married to another former Winnipegger, Lindsay Crysler, originally from Saskatchewan, who came to Winnipeg to work as a journalist for the Winnipeg Tribune.

But surely the crowning moment for Judith Weisz Woodsworth might well have been her monumental effort to translate a book so closely connected to her heritage, the 400-year-old story of the Jews in Quebec. This was a 500-page book and she worked at it feverishly for several hours each day for around a year. The joy in the completion of that work was huge, but the cherry on the sundae was being a recipient of the very prestigious  Governor General Literary Award. 

These awards celebrate literature and inspire the public to read books by Canadian creators. I quote the comment made by the peer assessment committee. “ Her flawless translation […] replicates the engaging style of the original with enthusiasm and rigor. Weisz Woodsworth fully captures the scholarly but compelling prose of the essential overview. Her translation of the extensive documentation is equally masterful.” All this, from a girl whose family arrived here with very little and who came from the depths of Winnipeg’s north end, speaks volumes about Judith Weisz Woodsworth and that sentence needs no translation. 

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Features

So, what’s the deal with the honey scene in ‘Marty Supreme?’

Timothée Chalamet plays Jewish ping-pong player Marty Mauser in Marty Supreme. Courtesy of A24

By Olivia Haynie December 29, 2025 This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.

There are a lot of jarring scenes in Marty Supreme, Josh Safdie’s movie about a young Jew in the 1950s willing to do anything to secure his spot in table tennis history. There’s the one where Marty (Timothée Chalamet) gets spanked with a ping-pong paddle; there’s the one where a gas station explodes. And the one where Marty, naked in a bathtub, falls through the floor of a cheap motel. But the one that everybody online seems to be talking about is a flashback of an Auschwitz story told by Marty’s friend and fellow ping-ponger Béla Kletzki (Géza Röhrig, best known for his role as a Sonderkommando in Son of Saul).

Kletzki tells the unsympathetic ink tycoon Milton Rockwell (Kevin O’Leary) about how the Nazis, impressed by his table tennis skills, spared his life and recruited him to disarm bombs. One day, while grappling with a bomb in the woods, Kletzki stumbled across a honeycomb. He smeared the honey across his body and returned to the camp, where he let his fellow prisoners lick it off his body. The scene is a sensory nightmare, primarily shot in close-ups of wet tongues licking sticky honey off Kletzki’s hairy body. For some, it was also … funny?

Many have reported that the scene has been triggering a lot of laughter in their theaters. My audience in Wilmington, North Carolina, certainly had a good chuckle — with the exception of my mother, who instantly started sobbing. I sat in stunned silence, unsure at first what to make of the sharp turn the film had suddenly taken. One post on X that got nearly 6,000 likes admonished Safdie for his “insane Holocaust joke.” Many users replied that the scene was in no way meant to be funny, with one even calling it “the most sincere scene in the whole movie.”

For me, the scene shows the sheer desperation of those in the concentration camps, as well as the self-sacrifice that was essential to survival. And yet many have interpreted it as merely shock humor.

Laughter could be understood as an inevitable reaction to discomfort and shock at a scene that feels so out of place in what has, up to that point, been a pretty comedic film. The story is sandwiched between Marty’s humorous attempts to embarrass Rockwell and seduce his wife. Viewers may have mistaken the scene as a joke since the film’s opening credits sequence of sperm swimming through fallopian tubes gives the impression you will be watching a comedy interspersed with some tense ping-pong playing.

The reaction could also be part of what some in the movie theater industry are calling the “laugh epidemic.” In The New York Times, Marie Solis explored the inappropriate laughter in movie theaters that seems to be increasingly common. The rise of meme culture and the dissolution of clear genres (Marty Supreme could be categorized as somewhere between drama and comedy), she writes, have primed audiences to laugh at moments that may not have been meant to be funny.

The audience’s inability to process the honey scene as sincere may also be a sign of a society that has become more disconnected from the traumas of the past. It would not be the first time that people, unable to comprehend the horrors of the Holocaust, have instead derided the tales of abuse as pure fiction. But Kletzki’s story is based on the real experiences of Alojzy Ehrlich, a ping-pong player imprisoned at Auschwitz. The scene is not supposed to be humorous trauma porn — Safdie has called it a “beautiful story” about the “camaraderie” found within the camps. It also serves as an important reminder of all that Marty is fighting for.

The events of the film take place only seven years after the Holocaust, and the macabre honey imagery encapsulates the dehumanization the Jews experienced. Marty is motivated not just by a desire to prove himself as an athlete and rise above what his uncle and mother expect of him, but above what the world expects of him as a Jew. His drive to reclaim Jewish pride is further underscored when he brings back a piece of an Egyptian pyramid to his mother, telling her, “We built this.”

Without understanding this background, the honey scene will come off as out of place and ridiculous. And the lengths Marty is willing to go to to make something of himself cannot be fully appreciated. The film’s description on the review-app Letterboxd says Marty Supreme is about one man who “goes to hell and back in pursuit of greatness.” But behind Marty is the story of a whole people who have gone through hell; they too are trying to find their way back.

Olivia Haynie is an editorial fellow at the Forward.

This story was originally published on the Forward.

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Features

Paghahambing ng One-on-One Matches at Multiplayer Challenges sa Pusoy in English

Ang Pusoy, na kilala din bilang Chinese Poker, ay patuloy na sumisikat sa buong mundo, kumukuha ng interes ng mga manlalaro mula sa iba’t ibang bansa. Ang mga online platforms ay nagpapadali sa pag-access nito. Ang online version nito ay lubos na nagpasigla ng interes sa mga baguhan at casual players, na nagdulot ng diskusyon kung alin ang mas madali: ang paglalaro ng Pusoy one-on-one o sa multiplayer settings.

Habang nailipat sa digital platforms ang Pusoy, napakahalaga na maunawaan ang mga format nito upang mapahusay ang karanasan sa laro. Malaking epekto ang bilang ng mga kalaban pagdating sa istilo ng laro, antas ng kahirapan, at ang ganap na gameplay dynamics. Ang mga platforms tulad ng GameZone ay nagbibigay ng angkop na espasyo para sa mga manlalaro na masubukan ang parehong one-on-one at multiplayer Pusoy, na akma para sa iba’t ibang klase ng players depende sa kanilang kasanayan at kagustuhan.

Mga Bentahe ng One-on-One Pusoy

Simpleng Gameplay

Sa one-on-one Pusoy in English, dalawa lang ang naglalaban—isang manlalaro at isang kalaban. Dahil dito, mas madali ang bawat laban. Ang pokus ng mga manlalaro ay nakatuon lamang sa kanilang sariling 13 cards at sa mga galaw ng kalaban, kaya’t nababawasan ang pagiging komplikado.

Para sa mga baguhan, ideal ang one-on-one matches upang:

  • Sanayin ang tamang pagsasaayos ng cards.
  • Matutunan ang tamang ranggo ng bawat kamay.
  • Magsanay na maiwasan ang mag-foul sa laro.

Ang simpleng gameplay ay nagbibigay ng matibay na pundasyon para sa mas kumplikadong karanasan sa multiplayer matches.

Mga Estratehiya mula sa Pagmamasid

Sa one-on-one matches, mas madaling maunawaan ang istilo ng kalaban dahil limitado lamang ang galaw na kailangan sundan. Maaari mong obserbahan ang mga sumusunod na patterns:

  • Konserbatibong pagkakaayos o agresibong strategy.
  • Madalas na pagkakamali o overconfidence.
  • Labis na pagtuon sa isang grupo ng cards.

Dahil dito, nagkakaroon ng pagkakataon ang mga manlalaro na isaayos ang kanilang estratehiya upang mas epektibong maka-responde sa galaw ng kalaban, partikular kung maglalaro sa competitive platforms tulad ng GameZone.

Mas Mababang Pressure

Dahil one-on-one lamang ang laban, mababawasan ang mental at emotional stress. Walang ibang kalaban na makaka-distract, na nagbibigay ng pagkakataon para sa mga baguhan na matuto nang walang matinding parusa sa kanilang mga pagkakamali. Nagiging stepping stone ito patungo sa mas dynamic na multiplayer matches.

Ang Hamon ng Multiplayer Pusoy

Mas Komplikado at Mas Malalim na Gameplay

Sa Multiplayer Pusoy, madaragdagan ang bilang ng kalaban, kaya mas nagiging komplikado ang laro. Kailangan kalkulahin ng bawat manlalaro ang galaw ng maraming tao at ang pagkakaayos nila ng cards.

Ang ilang hamon ng multiplayer ay:

  • Pagbabalanse ng lakas ng cards sa tatlong grupo.
  • Pag-iwas sa labis na peligro habang nagiging kompetitibo.
  • Pagtatagumpayan ang lahat ng kalaban nang sabay-sabay.

Ang ganitong klase ng gameplay ay nangangailangan ng maingat na pagpaplano, prediksyon, at strategic na pasensiya.

Mas Malakas na Mental Pressure

Mas mataas ang psychological demand sa multiplayer, dahil mabilis ang galawan at mas mahirap manatiling kalmado sa gitna ng mas maraming kalaban. Kabilang dito ang:

  • Bilisan ang pagdedesisyon kahit under pressure.
  • Paano mananatiling focused sa gitna ng mga distractions.
  • Pagkakaroon ng emosyonal na kontrol matapos ang sunod-sunod na talo.

Mas exciting ito para sa mga manlalarong gusto ng matinding hamon at pagmamalasakit sa estratehiya.

GameZone: Ang Bagong Tahanan ng Modern Pusoy

Ang GameZone online ay isang kahanga-hangang platform para sa mga naglalaro ng Pusoy in English. Nagbibigay ito ng opsyon para sa parehong one-on-one at multiplayer matches, akma para sa kahit anong antas ng kasanayan.

Mga feature ng GameZone:

  • Madaling English interface para sa user-friendly na gameplay.
  • Real-player matches imbes na kalaban ay bots.
  • Mga tool para sa responsible play, tulad ng time reminder at spending limits.

Pagtatagal ng Pamanang Pusoy

Ang Pusoy card game in English ay nagpalawak ng abot nito sa mas maraming players mula sa iba’t ibang bahagi ng mundo habang pinapanatili ang tradisyunal nitong charm. Sa pamamagitan ng mga modernong platform tulad ng GameZone, mananatiling buhay at progresibo ang Pusoy, nakakabighani pa rin sa lahat ng antas ng manlalaro—mula sa casual enjoyment hanggang sa competitive challenges.

Mula sa maingat na pag-aayos ng mga cards hanggang sa pag-master ng estratehiya, ang Pusoy ay isang laro na nananatiling relevant habang ipinapakita ang masalimuot nitong gameplay dynamics na puno ng kultura at inobasyon.

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Rob Reiner asked the big questions. His death leaves us searching for answers.

Can men and women just be friends? Can you be in the revenge business too long? Why don’t you just make 10 louder and have that be the top number on your amp?

All are questions Rob Reiner sought to answer. In the wake of his and his wife’s unexpected deaths, which are being investigated as homicides, it’s hard not to reel with questions of our own: How could someone so beloved come to such a senseless end? How can we account for such a staggering loss to the culture when it came so prematurely? How can we juggle that grief and our horror over the violent murder of Jews at an Australian beach, gathered to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah, and still light candles of our own?

The act of asking may be a way forward, just as Rob Reiner first emerged from sitcom stardom by making inquiries.

In This is Spinal Tap, his first feature, he played the role of Marty DiBergi, the in-universe director of the documentary about the misbegotten 1982 U.S. concert tour of the eponymous metal band. He was, in a sense, culminating the work of his father, Carl Reiner, who launched a classic comedy record as the interviewer of Mel Brooks’ 2,000 Year Old Man. DiBergi as played by Reiner was a reverential interlocutor — one might say a fanboy — but he did take time to query Nigel Tufnell as to why his amp went to 11. And, quoting a bad review, he asked “What day did the Lord create Spinal Tap, and couldn’t he have rested on that day too?”

But Reiner had larger questions to mull over. And in this capacity — not just his iconic scene at Katz’s Deli in When Harry Met Sally or the goblin Yiddishkeit of Miracle Max in The Princess Bride — he was a fundamentally Jewish director.

Stand By Me is a poignant meditation on death through the eyes of childhood — it asks what we remember and how those early experiences shape us. The Princess Bride is a storybook consideration of love — it wonders at the price of seeking or avenging it at all costs. A Few Good Men is a trenchant, cynical-for-Aaron Sorkin, inquest of abuse in the military — how can it happen in an atmosphere of discipline.

In his public life, Reiner was an activist. He asked how he could end cigarette smoking. He asked why gay couples couldn’t marry like straight ones. He asked what Russia may have had on President Trump. This fall, with the FCC’s crackdown on Jimmy Kimmel, he asked if he would soon be censored. He led with the Jewish question of how the world might be repaired.

Guttingly, in perhaps his most personal project, 2015’s Being Charlie, co-written by his son Nick he wondered how a parent can help a child struggling with addiction. (Nick was questioned by the LAPD concerning his parents’ deaths and was placed under arrest.)

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None of the questions had pat answers. Taken together, there’s scarcely a part of life that Reiner’s filmography overlooked, including the best way to end it, in 2007’s The Bucket List.

Judging by the longevity of his parents, both of whom lived into their 90s, it’s entirely possible Reiner had much more to ask of the world. That we won’t get to see another film by him, or spot him on the news weighing in on the latest democratic aberration, is hard to swallow.

Yet there is some small comfort in the note Reiner went out on. In October, he unveiled Spinal Tap II: The Beginning of the End, a valedictory moment in a long and celebrated career.

Reiner once again returned to the role of DiBergi. I saw a special prescreening with a live Q&A after the film. It was the day Charlie Kirk was assassinated. I half-expected Reiner to break character and address political violence — his previous film, God & Country, was a documentary on Christian Nationalism.

But Reiner never showed up — only Marty DiBergi, sitting with Nigel Tuffnell (Christopher Guest), David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean) and Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) at Grauman’s Chinese Theater in Los Angeles. The interview was broadcast to theaters across the country, with viewer-submitted questions like “What, in fact, did the glove from Smell the Glove smell like?” (Minty.) And “Who was the inspiration for ‘Big Bottom?’” (Della Reese.)

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DiBergi had one question for the audience: “How did you feel about the film?”

The applause was rapturous, but DiBergi still couldn’t get over Nigel Tuffnell’s Marshall amp, which now stretched beyond 11 and into infinity.

“How can that be?” he asked. “How can you go to infinity? How loud is that?”

There’s no limit, Tuffnell assured him. “Why should there be a limit?”

Reiner, an artist of boundless curiosity and humanity, was limitless. His remit was to reason why. He’ll be impossible to replace, but in asking difficult questions, we can honor him.

The post Rob Reiner asked the big questions. His death leaves us searching for answers. appeared first on The Forward.

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