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A Rube Goldberg machine comes to life — literally — in a new dance piece
(New York Jewish Week) — Are we humans all parts of a meticulously crafted machine? Or are we independent beings, chaotically disrupting one another’s trajectories through time and space? Is there a difference between intentional and unintentional impact? Does it matter whether our movements are prompted by internal or external forces?
These are just some of the questions that surfaced as I watched footage of “Rube G. — the Consequence of Action,” a new work by acclaimed New York-based choreographer and dancer Jody Oberfelder. The piece — at once whimsical and thoughtful — explores the mechanical motions inherent in a classic “Rube Goldberg machine” (a chain-reaction contraption that typically involves levers swinging, cogs twirling, bits and bobs knocking each other on predetermined courses) as expressed through the human form.
Over four years in the making, the piece will make its debut March 4 at the Agnes Varis Performing Arts Center in Lower Manhattan. It will be performed for three consecutive weekends, culminating in a gala event on March 19.
The genesis of this 50-minute piece began four years ago, when musician Frank London of The Klezmatics was organizing an event celebrating 15 Jewish thinkers and creators — from philosopher Hannah Arendt to composer Morton Feldman — at the New York Public Library. Oberfelder, a director, choreographer and filmmaker dedicated to site-specific works that “expand how one experiences dance,” was invited to create a piece inspired by the work of Rube Goldberg (1883-1970), the Jewish cartoonist who drew his eponymous machines starting with Collier’s Weekly magazine in 1929. According to the Rube Goldberg Institute for Innovation and Creativity, these machines “solve simple problems in the most ridiculously inefficient way possible.” A classic example is the “Self Operating Napkin,” which wipes an eater’s face by using a combination of strings, counterweights and even a scythe.
Oberfelder was intrigued and, initially, a bit surprised by the assignment. “[Frank] said, ‘God, you’re Rube Goldberg! This is perfect for you!’ But it wasn’t until I started going deeply into research that I realized [he was right],” Oberfelder told the New York Jewish Week.
Oberfeld has had a long and illustrious career: She’s danced with and for the likes of composer Meredith Monk and choreographer Sally Silvers, and has traveled the world as a performer, guest choreographer and lecturer, from the University of Hawaii to London’s Victoria and Albert Museum. Still, this new prompt captivated her. “I realized we’ve been living the Rube Goldberg life all along,” she said, referencing the ways in which people are all tied together, an intricate array of human cogs. Soon, she was hooked on the ideas behind Goldberg’s fanciful genius.
An iconic Rube Goldberg cartoon, the “Self Operating Napkin,” was featured on a U.S. postal stamp honoring the cartoonist. (Rube Goldberg Inc.)
The resulting piece for the NYPL event was, according to Oberfelder, “a four-minute blast” that explores this idea. “We were running through the audience,” she told me, remembering that first dive into the world of order and chaos that is Goldberg’s philosophy. “[It seems like] a whole lot of something for nothing. But it is something — the joy of the moment to moment, while a marble is rolling down a slide, knowing that it [was there] and it worked.”
After that initial performance, Oberfelder wanted to explore more but, of course, the pandemic soon swept away any performance plans. Inventive as ever, she took the ideas she’d workshopped for London and created a second iteration: a film that combined over 300 clips of dancers responding to prompts like “spin” and “pop up.” Dancers and laypeople the world over, despite the social isolation, came together into a global Rube Goldberg machine.
Eventually, as COVID-19 restrictions lifted and the world began to open up, she took her new understanding of the themes and translated the film into a site-specific work that showed at Roulette, a Brooklyn theater, in 2021. That work was really the proto version of this newest take. It had the playfulness, the fun, the tumbling, the twirling. It wasn’t quite there, though. Not yet.
The piece explores big questions, including, as Oberfeld said: “What would a Rube Goldberg machine look like if it was performed by humans?” (Courtesy)
With “Rube G. — the Consequence of Action,” Oberfelder digs even deeper into her big idea — that everything we do is both influenced by others and influences others in both predictable and unforeseeable ways. To her, this idea has a philosophical connection to Judaism: “Everything here on earth happens and [it’s our lot] to live it to the fullest,” she said, adding that “the way in which we help each other along” is part of a Jewish ethos.
In the current iteration, four performers (including, briefly, Oberfelder herself) move in the space with a curious mix of clumsy and graceful motions. They are the machine — pushing, pulling, whirling in tandem — but their gestures seem, at times, independently determined. Are we all simply reacting to the actions of our peers? I wondered, as I watched one dancer dribble another one across the space like a basketball. Or do we have a choice in the matter?
While the dancers on stage explore the relationship one human has with another, a wild card, in the form of improvised audience participation, is added to the mix. Viewers who attend a performance of “Rube G. — the Consequence of Action,” may, at times, be called to interact with and define the direction of the piece. This element of the unknown will be folded into a meticulously planned piece which, like a Goldberg Machine, has a zillion moving parts that all seem random but somehow fall perfectly into place.
“During COVID, I got to a point where I was really analyzing the nature of performance and what I missed about it,” Oberfelder said. “What I felt was lacking was the effervescence of people coming together with different ideas to present something new…. I’ve tried to create an environment where we’re all here.” To Oberfelder, “all of us” includes the audience — and maybe people everywhere, too.
“It’s sort of like singing in the shower,” she added. “It’s nice, and it’s a great release. But actually, I would like these vibrations to go past my bathroom walls.” To that end, she’s brought her work to a simple space (“it’s just a big white box studio with very simple lighting”) and is welcoming audience members into the dance. As a result, each performance will be one-of-a-kind.
“What would a Rube Goldberg machine look like if it was performed by humans?” Oberfelder wondered aloud when we spoke, mulling over the various possible iterations. Now is our chance to find out.
“Rube G. — the Consequence of Action,” will be performed at The Agnes Varis Performing Arts Center, inside the Gibney Dance Center, at 280 Broadway on March 4-5, March 11-12 and March 18 at 7:30 p.m. A gala performance will be held on March 19 at 6:30 p.m. and will include post-performance food, drinks and a live auction. For tickets (from $15) and info, click here.
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The post A Rube Goldberg machine comes to life — literally — in a new dance piece appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Gene Shalit, a mensch with a personality as big as his mustache, turns 100
The television entertainment personality Gene Shalit, who celebrated his centenary on March 25, semaphored a Jewish appearance for decades to viewers of NBC’s early morning gabfest The Today Show.
With his Jew-fro hairstyle that fascinated celebrity interviewees and his abundant mustache that outdid Groucho Marx’s mere greasepaint simulacrum, Shalit was one of a kind. Born in New York City in 1926, he clearly aimed to be recognizable even through half-opened bleary eyes of half-asleep viewers. And audible too. Shalit’s precise pronunciation, always at a vigorous decibel level, sought to be comprehensible even during voiceovers. The Canadian comedian Eugene Levy, transfixed by this persona, imitated him on SCTV roaring at high decibel levels.
In one skit, Levy embodied Shalit with haimish affection, hawking a remedy for a migraine presumably caused by his own bellowing. In another, Levy spoofed Hollywood celebrities who were notorious fressers at local restaurants, including the American Jewish actress Shelley Winters (born Shirley Schrift). In still another lampoon, Levy-as-Shalit danced and also kibitzed with the late Catherine O’Hara as the Jewish gossip columnist Rona Barrett (born Burstein).
Shalit apparently kvelled at the notion that he was prominent enough in media culture to be affectionately kidded like other Jewish noteworthies Levy imitated, including Howard Cosell, Henry Kissinger, Menachem Begin, Milton Berle, Judd Hirsch, Jack Carter, James Caan, Lorne Greene, Norman Mailer and Neil Sedaka.
Years later, Levy recalled that when the SCTV comedy troupe was invited to appear on The Today Show, before the segment was filmed, chairs were arranged so that Catherine O’Hara was seated next to Shalit. Suddenly Shalit exclaimed: “Wait a minute, shouldn’t the person who [imitates] me be sitting beside me?” Another Jewish comedian, Jon Lovitz, would likewise attempt to imitate Shalit on Saturday Night Live, but without the zest of Levy’s indelible incarnation.

Shalit once told showbiz reporter Eileen Prose that at first, his looks limited him to radio jobs in more conventional times for TV talent. By the more liberated late 1960s, when long hair and a hirsute upper lip were more common, he was hired as quasi-permanent house Jew on The Today Show. Although his mustache fit the counterculture in the mode of Jewish activist Jerry Rubin’s, Shalit as an aspiring journalist may have grown his facial hair more in tribute to earlier literati like the playwright William Saroyan or the eminent humorist Mark Twain.
At times, Shalit’s appearance could be clown-like or cartoonish, so it was natural that characters inspired by him would appear on animated series such as SpongeBob SquarePants and Family Guy as well as The Muppet Show.
Famous interviewees like Peter Sellers were plainly at ease with Shalit’s persona. A conversation filmed shortly before Sellers’ untimely death was cordial, with the sometimes tetchy actor on his best behavior, acknowledging Shalit as a fellow entertainer. And with Mel Brooks in 1987, Shalit looked to be in paradise.
A warm-hearted empathizer and enthusiast, Shalit was more suited to promoting films than criticizing them. In 1989, a tzimmes occurred when a memo drafted by Bryant Gumbel, a Today Show colleague, deemed Shalit a “specialist in gushing over actors and directors” and added that Shalit’s interviews “aren’t very good.” To his credit, Shalit minimized the controversy, telling The Los Angeles Times that Gumbel’s disses were “not big whacks.”
“Listen, I’ve been interviewing people on the show for 17 years,” Shalit said. “I must be doing something right.”

Part of his inspiration was a sincere appreciation for humor, Jewish and otherwise. His 1987 anthology, Laughing Matters featured contributions by Jewish wits such as Dorothy Parker, S. J. Perelman, Woody Allen, Fran Lebowitz, Samuel Hoffenstein, Philip Roth, Mel Brooks, George S. Kaufman, Milt Gross, Arthur Kober, Leo Rosten, Allan Sherman, Max Shulman, Calvin Trillin, Rube Goldberg, Sam Gross, Roz Chast, B. Kliban, Robert Mankoff, J. B. Handelsman, Jules Feiffer and George Burns. The volume was dedicated to, among others, the Jewish screenwriter Samson Raphaelson, who was Shalit’s instructor at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
His visceral reaction to Jewish parody was such that during one commuter train ride, Shalit admitted in a preface, Perelman’s story “No Starch in the Dhoti, S’il Vous Plait” caused a conductor to lean down with concern, stating: “A passenger says you’re crying.” To which Shalit retorted, choking and rubbing away tears: “I’m laughing.”
The subliminal message of Shalit’s book was that without Jews, America would have distinctly fewer tears of laughter. And he regretted not being able to include funny Jews like Jack Benny and Ed Wynn whose performances could not be transferred to the printed page.
Shalit also reviewed books for years. Sticking firmly to the content of cultural products with a few brief hints of value judgment, Shalit seemed to have neither the time nor presumably the inclination to subject new items to analysis of Freudian intensity. He clearly preferred boosting things to panning them, and when a film displeased Shalit, he could be uncomfortable saying so.
One occasion when Shalit raised hackles was his response on The Today Show to the 2005 film Brokeback Mountain. Shalit described one of the gay characters as a “sexual predator.” The LGBTQ media group GLAAD objected to Shalit’s characterization as a homophobic stereotype. Shalit’s son Peter wrote an open letter to GLAAD, identifying himself as a gay physician with a Seattle practice helping the gay community. Peter Shalit admitted that his father “did not get” the film in question, but was “not a homophobe.” He might have added that his father had even included an excerpt from Harvey Fierstein’s Torch Song Trilogy in the aforementioned humor collection.
Shalit followed up with his own apology, stating in a mensch-like way that he did not intend to cast “aspersions on anyone in the gay community or on the community itself.” When Shalit finally retired from broadcasting at age 84, with the Yiddish-inflected declaration: “It’s enough, already,” he left behind admiring viewers and decades of bonhomie as one of morning television’s most genial protagonists.
Mazel tov, Gene Shalit. Biz hundert un tsvantsik (May you live until 120)!
The post Gene Shalit, a mensch with a personality as big as his mustache, turns 100 appeared first on The Forward.
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How a song about the food chain became a Seder mainstay
I’m almost positive I heard about the old lady who swallowed a fly before the father who bought a goat for two zuzim.
This occurred to me a few years ago while riding in my sister’s minivan. My niece was in her car seat fidgeting with a toy that plays a catalogue of public domain children’s songs. But unlike the version I’d grown up hearing, where the old lady’s ravenous habit of devouring ever-larger animals is met with the prognostic shrug of “perhaps she’ll die,” the refrain was changed to the more kid-friendly “oh me oh my.”
The Seder tune “Chad Gadya,” which involves a quite similar conceit, has no such timidity when it comes to the ravages of death.
Jack Black once described it as the “original heavy metal song” for the way it progresses along the chain of life from a little goat bought for two zuzim, to the cat who ate the goat, to the dog who bit the cat, all the way up to the angel of death. (“Very Black Sabbath.”)
It is pretty metal — in a kosher Kidz Bop, tot Shabbat kinda way. But why we sing it should, in Jewish circles, be as popular a seasonal question as what a bunny with a clutch of eggs has to do with Jesus’ resurrection. (Some Haggadot explain the greater significance of “Chad Gadya;” my Maxwell House does not.)
Dating the song or rooting out its precise origins is not easy.
As historian Henry Abramson wrote, scholars have noted the song’s similarities to a late Medieval German folk rhyme. While the fact that it is mostly in Aramaic, not the vernacular in Europe in the Middle Ages, suggests an earlier provenance, it is missing from extant Sephardic and Yemenite Haggadot, where one would expect to find texts originating in the language, and the Aramaic itself has many errors.
Abramson reasons that, given the surviving written versions, it was likely adapted sometime in the 14th century from a German children’s rhyme called “The Foreman that Sent Jockel Out,” about an idler named Jockel who a foreman tries to rouse to fieldwork with an escalating series of messengers, ending with a hangman. (Abramson notes the original is characterized by “some Teutonic weirdness,” like a witch sent to subdue a vulture.)
“Chad Gadya” belongs, like its Seder companion “Echad Mi Yodea,” to a genre called “cumulative song,” where verses build with new information a la “12 Days of Christmas.” But “Chad Gadya” stands out for its strangeness and its more oblique message.
Abramson and others see the goat, small and vulnerable, standing in for the Jewish people, and the ensuing parade of antagonists corresponding to historical enemies (Assyrians, Babylonians) and periods of time (Exodus, various conquests), ending with redemption in the Messianic age when the Holy One smites death.
As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote in a commentary for his Haggadah, the song “teaches the great truth of Jewish hope: that though many nations (symbolized by the cat, the dog, and so on) attacked Israel (the goat), each in turn has vanished into oblivion.”
That this truth is conveyed in song, with much banging on the table or animal noises, speaks to the centrality of children in the Passover Seder. And, some think, its inclusion serves a practical purpose: keeping the kids awake through the last leg of a long ritual meal.
My own interpretation is admittedly less lofty. I don’t think of Israel’s tribulations. I do think of the abundance of stray cats in Jerusalem, said to have originated during the British mandate when the city had a rat problem.
And, in the years since my own days as designated Four Questions asker, I’ve been reading “Chad Gadya” into non-Jewish contexts. “The White Cat,” off of Mitski’s new album, Nothing’s About to Happen to Me, contains a lyric that recalls the song, only altered to be a metaphor for the predations of capitalism.
In it, the speaker says she must work to pay for the cat’s house and “for the bugs who drink my blood/and the birds who eat those bugs/so that white cat can kill the birds.”
These cycles speak across cultures and time because they represent a fundamental rule of nature: There’s always a bigger fish (or cat or dog or stick).
To erase death from the equation, like my niece’s toy does with that hapless, insect-ingesting pensioner, is a concession to today’s sensitivities. That’s not to say “The Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly” represents anything more homiletic than a choking hazard warning, but in the case of “Chad Gadya,” death is the story, and an end to death is the hope.
“The Haggadah ends with the death of death in eternal life,” Rabbi Sacks concluded his drash on the song, which ends when God strikes down the Angel of Death. “A fitting end for the story of a people dedicated to Moshe’s great command, ‘Choose life.’”
I know it’s a principle of faith all over the Haggadah, but I’m more agnostic as to that Messianic promise and maybe more in the camp of our old lady. My understanding of Jewishness, which accords with Moshe’s command, says life is best lived knowing that — perhaps — we’ll die.
The post How a song about the food chain became a Seder mainstay appeared first on The Forward.
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Katz: ‘Israel’s Goal in Lebanon is to Disarm Hezbollah’
Then-Israeli transportation minister Israel Katz attends the cabinet meeting at the Prime Minister’s office in Jerusalem, Feb. 17, 2019. Katz currently serves as the foreign minister. Photo: Sebastian Scheiner/Pool via REUTERS
i24 News – Israel’s Defense Minister Israel Katz held a situation assessment Friday with senior military and defense officials, reiterating that the country’s policy in Lebanon remains focused on disarming Hezbollah by military and political means. Katz emphasized that the goal applies “regardless of the Iran issue” and pledged continued protection for Israeli northern communities.
Katz said the Israel Defense Forces are completing ground maneuvers up to the anti-tank line to prevent direct threats to border towns. He outlined plans to demolish houses in villages near the border that serve as Hezbollah outposts, citing previous operations in Rafah and Khan Yunis in Gaza as models.
The Defense Minister added that the IDF will maintain security control over the Litani area and that the return of 600,000 residents of southern Lebanon who had evacuated north will not be permitted until northern communities’ safety is ensured. Katz also reaffirmed that the IDF will continue targeting Hezbollah leaders and operatives across Lebanon, noting that 1,000 terrorists have already been eliminated since the start of the current campaign.
“We promised security to the northern towns, and that is exactly what we will do,” Katz said. He further warned that the IDF will act decisively against rocket fire from Lebanon, stating that Hezbollah “will pay heavy prices.”
