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‘An American Tail’ musical adaptation hopes its Jewish immigration story will resonate in 2023
(JTA) — Itamar Moses was 10 years old when he watched “An American Tail” at his Jewish day school in California. He was struck by the 1986 film, an animated musical about a family of Russian-Jewish mice who immigrate to America. Even though he was surrounded by Jewish classmates and teachers, he had never seen a cartoon with Jewish protagonists.
“Watching this mainstream hit American animated movie where the central character and the central family were specifically Jewish — it was unusual,” Moses told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “I think there was something that felt inclusive to us about that.”
Now a Tony Award-winning playwright, Moses has adapted the children’s classic for the stage. “An American Tail the Musical” will premiere at the Children’s Theatre Company in Minneapolis on April 25 and run through June 18. Along with writing by Moses, who won his Tony for a Broadway adaptation of the Israeli film “The Band’s Visit,” the new production features familiar songs such as “Somewhere Out There” and new music and lyrics by Michael Mahler and Alan Schmuckler (“Diary of a Wimpy Kid the Musical”). The team hopes to tour the show if it has success in Minneapolis.
The original film created by Don Bluth and Steven Spielberg follows the journey of a young, tenacious mouse named Fievel Mousekewitz. Fievel’s family lives below the human Moskowitz family in Shostka, a city in the Russian Empire, in 1885. Spielberg, who had yet to make “Schindler’s List” or widely address his Jewish family history, named the character after his maternal grandfather — Phillip or “Fievel” Posner — an immigrant from Russia.
The movie begins with the Mousekewitzes and the Moskowitzes celebrating Hanukkah when Cossacks tear through Shostka in an antisemitic pogrom, together with their animal counterparts — a battery of evil cats. The Mouskewitzes flee Europe and board a ship to America, where Papa Mouskewitz (voiced by Nehemiah Persoff) promises “there are no cats” and “the streets are paved with cheese.” But a thunderstorm at sea washes Fievel overboard, leaving his devastated parents and sister to arrive in New York City without him. Although they believe he did not survive, Fievel floats to shore in a bottle and sets out to find his family.
Of course, he quickly learns there are cats in America — along with corruption and exploitation. Fievel is sold to a sweatshop by Warren T. Rat, a cat disguised as a rat. A crooked mouse politician called Honest John (a caricature of the real Tammany Hall boss John Kelly) wanders Irish wakes, scribbling dead mice’s names in his list of “ghost votes.” But Fievel finds camaraderie with other immigrant mice rallying for freedom from the cats’ attacks and Warren T. Rat’s extortion. He befriends Italian mouse Tony and Irish mouse Bridget, who join the quest to reunite his family.
The film’s metaphors will be presented similarly in the stage version, which is also set in the 1880s, although Moses has expanded its lens on the immigrant groups that populated New York at the time. The musical will incorporate more “mice” communities, such as Chinese, Caribbean and Scandinavian mice, along with African Americans and former slaves.
A scene from rehearsal. (Kaitlin Randolph)
“An American Tail” was part of a shift in mainstream media toward Jewish representation, said Jennifer Caplan, an assistant professor of Judaic Studies at the University of Cincinnati who has studied this cultural change.
“It came out in 1986, and then ‘Seinfeld’ premiered in 1989,” Caplan told the JTA. “People point to 1989 as this moment when representations of Jews changed. There was this feeling in the late ‘80s that people were looking for new, different, possibly even more explicit representations of Jews.”
Yet despite the movie’s resonance with children like Moses, some film critics complained that it wasn’t Jewish enough. Critics Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert gave the film “two thumbs down” on a 1986 episode of their program “At The Movies,” calling it “way too depressing” for children and arguing that it “chickened out” of an explicitly Jewish story. Ebert noted that while most adults would understand the Mousekewitzes were Jewish, the word “Jewish” never appears in the film, potentially leaving young audiences in the dark.
“This seems to be a Jewish parable that doesn’t want to declare itself,” he said at the time.
Unlike in Art Spiegelman’s graphic novel “Maus,” where Jews are mice and Nazis are cats, the cat-and-mouse metaphor of “An American Tail” is expansive. The cats represent a universal force of oppression — Cossacks in Russia or capitalists in America — while the mice encompass all persecuted immigrants, regardless of their religion, ethnicity or national origin.
Caplan admitted that some might not have seen it as a Jewish story at the time.
“In 1986, we’re right at the birth of the multicultural push in American schools,” said Caplan. “You’ve got kids who are learning about the melting pot. I think if you are not looking for the coded Jewishness and you’re not familiar with it, then this just seems like a movie about immigrants.”
But Moses, who said the movie held a “mystical place” in his imagination, did not view the story’s broad allegory as a shortcoming. Instead, he saw an opportunity to pull its continuous thread for a message he hopes will feel relevant today: that while immigrants discover inequality and abuse in America, the forces of injustice are changeable, and that people can overcome life’s harsh realities through “grit and hard work and coming together.”
“That message is always timely, but definitely coming out of the last few years and the conversations that America is having about immigration,” said Moses. “I wanted to tell this story that’s really a fable, so you can get at these ideas indirectly as opposed to in a dry, didactic way.”
Jodi Eichler-Levine, a Jewish studies professor at Lehigh University, argued the tale’s success lies in being a “story of Jewish immigration that appeals to non-Jews as well” and called the movie a “fairytale about America.” It premiered 100 years after the Statue of Liberty’s dedication in 1886, amid centennial celebrations of the country’s immigration history. In the film, the statue comes alive, winking at Fievel and his sister once they find each other and look west at the vast expanse of the United States.
Itamar Moses won acclaim for adapting “The Band’s Visit” for Broadway. (Courtesy of Moses)
Whether viewers still buy into the optimistic crescendo of “An American Tail” remains to be seen. Do Americans still believe, as Moses hopes, that immigrants and oppressed peoples can unite to overthrow the tyrants of unfettered capitalism? A Gallup poll from February showed that Americans’ satisfaction with the country’s level of immigration has dropped to 28%, the lowest point in a decade.
Moses is betting that children’s theater has a way of refreshing themes adults have exhausted with political discourse. Children want to grapple with the ideas at the core of the show, he said, such as “the needs of the individual and the needs of the collective, the need to go out on your own but still remain connected to your family and your background.”
“The most successful material for kids tends to engage with real things that they’re thinking about and worrying about,” he said.
Today, another wave of families has fled Fievel’s hometown: though Shostka was part of the Russian Empire in the 19th century, it is now in the Sumy region of northeastern Ukraine. The Sumy Oblast was among the first regions stormed by Russian forces in February 2022 and continues to suffer daily shelling. Eichler-Levine expects that global refugee crises will only continue to broaden the appeal of a migration story.
“The ideas [in An American Tail] are sadly relevant for most of the planet right now, given that climate change and devastation from war are leading to another tremendous wave of global migration,” said Eichler-Levine.
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The post ‘An American Tail’ musical adaptation hopes its Jewish immigration story will resonate in 2023 appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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How Black music brought me closer to Judaism
Once, while my parents were away, my Grandma Min woke my three siblings and me at five in the morning to lecture us on the proper way to squeeze a toothpaste tube. Funny how effective that was. To this day, I can’t pick up a tube of Crest without thinking about how to squeeze it properly.
Toothpaste incident notwithstanding, I loved my Grandma Min. She was a rule-breaker and a rebel. Among the first Jewish women in Minneapolis to march for civil rights, she regularly hosted Black community leaders in her apartment and served them her own brand of soul food: blintzes, kugel, borscht, and mandelbrot. Everyone she touched — including me — was changed for the better. She’s the one who introduced me to the world’s greatest guitar teacher.
One Sunday afternoon, in the midst of a brilliant sun-shower, Lester Williams pulled up to our house in his pale-yellow Fleetwood Brougham. There’s little question that he was the first Black man to park a Cadillac on our block and walk to the door of a Jewish kid’s house for a guitar lesson.
It was Grandma Min’s idea. She’d seen Lester perform at a Hadassah luncheon, singing songs from Fiddler on the Roof with a big archtop Gibson and a tambourine balanced on his shoe. Afterwards, she asked if he’d teach me.
Lester, who was in his mid-70s at the time, wore a high-rise Don King hairdo and played in a style that was equal parts Texas blues and Yiddish theater. He taught me Sam Cooke’s ”You Send Me” and Lightning Hopkins riffs. When he sang, his eyes closed like he was singing for the Lord.
To this day, I’ve never opened my guitar case without thinking of Lester.
Back then, Jewish felt dorky; Black felt cool. In the early ’70s, a newly bar-mitzvahed kid playing funk and blues was an anomaly. Now, of course, the pop charts are built on it, but in the day it was the Eagles and Jethro Tull, not Kanye and Kendrick Lamar.
I was drawn to the groove and gravitas of Black music — Marvin Gaye, Curtis Mayfield, John Lee Hooker. It wasn’t only sound; it was a worldview. There was truth in that rhythm: sophisticated, sardonic, somehow sacred. It hovered between sex and Godliness. You could put a record on the stereo and feel righteous about reproducing the human species to it. To play that music, you had to become it, not just imitate it. I developed a lilting accent that slipped in naturally when I sang, like a thing that made down-in-the-bones sense. Every rock musician had done it in some form — Jagger, Van Morrison, the whole British Invasion.
It was a bridge to something larger, a way to escape the confines of white suburbia and begin what would become a lifelong expansion of my creative and spiritual boundaries. In retrospect, it may have been the first step on the path that led me to become an observant Jew.
Most of the kids around me seemed content inside their circumscribed worlds of hockey, keggers and Sadie Hawkins dances. I wanted to erase the margins someone else had drawn around my life. The times I could do that were rare, but they happened most powerfully when I was making music. It was then that the world lost its edges. The interplay between musicians could feel like one spirit inhabiting separate bodies. That’s how it felt when I first played with Wynston Robyns.
At my cousin Jeff’s house near Cedar Lake, we jammed in the basement — low ceiling, unused shuffleboard court in the floor, winter coats piled on the Ping-Pong table. Some older Black guys from the North Side brought their gear, a little weed, and some Ripple wine. I’d never tried Ripple before. I drank to excess.
Soon the room came alive: guitars tuned, reeds moistened, drums whacked, a few tentative chords tossed out. First rhythm, then flight. Jeff on the Fender Rhodes, me on guitar, all of us tearing it up. After an hour, the alto sax player, Jimmy, said, “You boys gotta meet Wynston Robyns.”
With Jeff’s parents away and my parents asleep and dreaming back at my house, we piled into Jimmy’s car and drove north, well past the safety of our suburb. By the time we reached Wynston’s place it was close to one in the morning. Dim light spilled from the basement windows, bass and drums rumbled from below. When Wynston finally opened the door, he filled its frame: barrel-chested, magnetic, with a half-smile suspended between welcome and menace.
We smoked more weed and played until God knows when. Some Stevie, some Lou Rawls. It was nearly dawn when Jeff and I became the new members of Wynston Robyns and Soul SearchLyte.
Rehearsals were constant — four nights a week, sometimes after school, sometimes before. Neither of us was old enough to have a driver’s license, so we took the city bus.
It took months for Soul SearchLyte to land just two gigs. The first was a corporate lunch my dad attended in a suit and tie. “Wynston seems like a really nice guy,” he said afterward, which was true…mostly. The second was New Year’s Eve at the Holiday Inn downtown. We were the “headliners,” scheduled for 1:00 a.m. — which everyone in the business knows means the time everybody has gone home to party. The real headliners went on at midnight. It was another North Side band, Champagne, featuring Morris Day, André Simone, and a diminutive guy with a large afro.
Jeff and I watched them in awe. André’s bass ran through a Mu-tron Funk Box that made every note sound like it came from the world’s best wah-wah. Morris Day’s drumming was tight, crisp, unstoppable. Wynston leaned toward me and shouted over the groove, “You see that guy? The way he chops out that rhythm? His name’s Prince. They say he’s got a record deal on Warners. Peter, that’s what you need to do if you wanna be more than just a basement guitar player.”
No offense to Soul SearchLyte, but Champagne was a brutal act to follow. By the time we went on at 3:00 a.m., only my Uncle Sonny and the bar staff were still around, mopping the floor while we played our hearts out.
A few weeks later, during rehearsal, our lead guitarist, Larry Crags, announced he was quitting.
“Wynston, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to leave the snap,” he said.
Wynston stared at him. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Larry shifted his weight. “My wife thinks it’s not a good idea — all this practice when we haven’t got any gigs lined up.”
Wynston stepped forward and jabbed his finger into Larry’s chest. “You sayin’ I’m not a man?”
It was strange. Larry hadn’t said anything of the sort.
Before Larry could answer, Wynston swung and caught him square in the face. Larry, who’d once told me in strictest confidence he was a Kung Fu master, fell hard, then rose, bloodied, into a fighting stance. Having been an ardent viewer of Kung Fu, the TV series, I waited for the mystical retaliation. It never came. Wynston hit him again, a clean right hook that sent him flying into my amplifier.
Larry crawled away, whimpering, up the stairs and out of the house. Jeff, maybe out of shock, started playing ”Rock-A-Bye Baby” on the high keys of his electric piano. From behind the drum kit someone said flatly, “Why don’t somebody shut off that amplifier?”
Wynston, panting hard, looked at me. “Peter, I suppose you wanna quit this snap too, since you’ve just seen a Black man beat up on a white dude.”
“No, Wynston,” I said. “I love being in this band.”
Hell yes, I did. I just became the lead guitarist.
Those nights in North Minneapolis — half teachable moment, half transcendence — were my first real taste of faith: the moment when music, spirit and belonging coalesced into one sound, one rhythm, one funky-ass pulse of Creation.
I’m positive Grandma Min would approve.
The post How Black music brought me closer to Judaism appeared first on The Forward.
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In ‘Nuremberg,’ a potent warning about our current politics of denial
“You want to know why it happened here?” asks Howie Triest — a German Jew serving as a U.S. military translator — in the new film Nuremberg. “Because people let it happen. They didn’t stand up until it was too late.”
Triest’s words, as uttered by actor Leo Woodhall, serve as an implicit plea to the film’s contemporary audience: We must stand up against the advancing collapse of our own democracy, before it is too late. Dark resonances appear between scenes in the film and scenes unfolding in today’s United States.
As Hermann Göring, the highest-ranking Nazi not to commit suicide at the war’s end — that is, until after his sentencing — Russell Crowe gives us a deposed and vainglorious charmer still able to exert something of his vanished power, even from his specially constructed prison. And, as in life, the Reichmarschall has a remarkable ability to evade and deflect: He is proud of the work he did for the German people and would do it again, but claims that once the war started, he knew nothing about what went on in the concentration camps — and nor did Adolf Hitler.
Today, Göring’s various lines of defense are striking as the ur-text for Holocaust deniers, as well as for contemporary leaders who strive everyday to re-write reality by lying about it. It is impossible to hear his arguments and not be struck by parallels to the rhetorical devices we see all around us now.
Göring’s arguments relied heavily on “what-aboutism”: He argued many other countries, including the U.S., had also committed crimes against civilian populations. The Nazis were no different. Likewise, President Donald Trump and his defenders have turned to “what-aboutism” over and over. Did Trump refuse to return classified documents upon leaving office after his first term? What about Hillary Clinton’s 33,000 deleted emails? Insurrection on January 6 ? What about the Black Lives Matter protests? Family-separation policy? Well, Barack Obama’s administration built the cages.
Such comparisons serve to obfuscate vast differences in intent and magnitude. They also erode the very idea that justice exists, or should exist.
The Nuremberg trials marked the first time that individuals — not states — were held criminally responsible for war crimes under international law. They shaped the development of modern international criminal law and institutions such as the International Criminal Court in the Hague — a court that Trump has repeatedly described as illegitimate. They uphold the idea that nothing, including extreme nationalism, is a defense for orchestrated violence against civilians.
But the Nuremberg trials also marked the first time that, under oath, leaders adopted the excuse that they had no concept of, or power over, the injustice executed on their watch. The Nazi leaders in the dock at Nuremberg all claimed, in some way or another, that they did not know of and were not responsible for the fate of the Jews, or anyone else who fell victim to their pitiless brutality. In the film as in life, those claims caused chief prosecutor Robert Jackson (Michael Shannon) to summarize their testimony this way: “While there have been enormous crimes, there are no criminals.”
A similar phenomenon was on display earlier this year in the Oval Office, when Trump hosted Salvadorean president Nayib Bukele. Trump’s administration had just deported more than 200 chained and shackled immigrants, many with no criminal record, to an El Salvador prison made infamous by sadistic videos produced by Bukele and copied by Homeland Security head Kristi Noem.
One prisoner, Kilmar Armando Ábrego Garcia, gained particular attention after it was revealed he had mistakenly been deported in violation of a federal immigration judge’s order barring his removal to his native country. Attorney General Pam Bondi and Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller argued, without evidence, that two judges had declared Ábrego Garcia a member of the MS-13 gang.
And when Bukele visited for an Oval Office meeting, the administration’s line was clear: they did not have the power to return Ábrego Garcia. His fate, in the words of Miller, was at the “sole discretion of El Salvador.”
Heads turned to the Salvadorean president, who smiled enigmatically. “How could I smuggle a terrorist into the United States?” Bukele asked. “Of course, I’m not going to do it. The question is preposterous.”
And the situation was indeed preposterous. No one, it seemed, was responsible for Ábrego Garcia’s fate. (Ábrego Garcia was eventually returned to the U.S. in June; the Trump administration is still trying to deport him.)
There have been many previous comparisons between Trump’s government and Hitler’s. Many have focused, including in the Forward, on Hitler’s first year in power, when Hitler hollowed out the civil service and re-stocked its ranks with loyalists; cracked down on the media, the universities, the judiciary, and the military; and began a campaign of horror in which Germans began to see their neighbors brutally arrested and imprisoned.
Crucially, the seeds of Göring’s Nuremberg defense were present at that time as well. Hitler and his top men characterized all reports of their barbarity as false, exaggerations spread by foreign enemies and a hostile media. Such evasions, too, are in abundant supply today.
After only two months in power, the Nazis made it illegal to protest or oppose them in any way. The Trump administration has taken frightening steps in the same direction. After several lawmakers who served in the military or the intelligence community this week posted a video in which they spoke directly to U.S. service members, urging them to uphold the Constitution and to defy “illegal orders” amid the Trump administration’s promise to send the National Guard “and more” into democratic-leaning cities, Trump posted on social media that the video constituted “SEDITIOUS BEHAVIOR, punishable by DEATH.”
Miller added that the video represented “insurrection — plainly, directly, without question.”
Nuremberg is based on the life of psychiatrist Douglas Kelley (Rami Malek), whose encounters with Göring form the core of the film. After the trials, Kelley wrote that he found the Nazi leaders to be by and large “commonplace people whose personalities could be duplicated in any country of the world today.” They were responding, as people always will, to the opportunities presented by serving a corrupt leader, one whose only demand is fealty.
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Trump says he and Mamdani ‘didn’t discuss’ NYC mayor-elect’s vow to arrest Netanyahu during congenial meeting
(JTA) — Donald Trump and Zohran Mamdani covered a lot of ground in their highly anticipated meeting at the White House Friday afternoon, discussing agenda items such as housing and affordability.
One topic that apparently did not come up, however, was Mamdani’s vow to arrest Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu should he step foot in New York City once Mamdani takes over as mayor on January 1.
“We didn’t discuss the second part of your question,” Trump told a reporter following the private meeting, referring to a question about whether he would stop Mamdani from arresting Netanyahu.
Mamdani’s promise to arrest Netanyahu is on the basis of an arrest warrant by the International Criminal Court, to which the United States is not a party. Later, when asked about Mamdani’s frequent references to following international law, Trump deflected the question, saying, “I don’t know what you’re referring to in terms of, it could be covered by international law, local laws, it’s covered by a lot laws, it’s covered by U.S. law,” and ultimately allowed Mamdani to answer.
“I think what I’ve shared with the president is our desire to not only follow the laws of our own city, laws that protect New Yorkers, but also desire for consistency in our politics across the board,” Mamdani said.
The mayor-elect’s promise to arrest Netanyahu is seen as an area that could lead to conflict between the president, who considers Netanyahu an ally, and the New York City mayor-elect, who accuses Netanyahu of committing a genocide.
But there was little conflict Friday afternoon during a meeting that was viewed as crucial in ensuring that New York City retains federal funding that Trump has threatened to cut and that Mamdani can get the security clearance typically afforded to mayors.
Trump was effusive in his praise of Mamdani, who like him rose to power on populist sentiment and after overcoming traditionalists in their party. He called Mamdani “hopefully a really great mayor,” and the overall dynamic between the two leaders was chummy despite their political differences and name-calling in the lead-up to the mayoral election.
Trump has referred to Mamdani as “my little communist,” while Mamdani has called Trump a “despot” — a position he was asked about again Friday, and which Trump brushed aside.
Mamdani was asked multiple times about his accusations that Trump is a “fascist,” initially answering that “President Trump and I, we are very clear about our positions and our views.” When asked again, Mamdani began answering the question indirectly, before Trump let him off the hook with an easy out.
“That’s OK, you can just say yes,” Trump said, patting Mamdani on the arm and laughing. “It’s easier than explaining.”
“I’ve been called a lot worse than despot,” Trump also said.
Trump and Mamdani addressed questions on issues including Israel’s war in Gaza and Jewish safety in the city, following a half-hour meeting closed to the press.
“I think you feel very, very strongly about peace in the Middle East,” Trump said to Mamdani, answering a question about the region.
Mamdani replied that he’d asked Trump voters in New York why they voted for the president, and one answer he’d hear repeatedly was: “They wanted an end to forever wars. They wanted an end to the taxpayer dollars we have funding violations of human rights.”
Mamdani was later asked about his accusations that the U.S. government was committing genocide. The mayor-elect corrected the reporter, saying, “I’ve spoken about the Israeli government committing genocide, and I’ve spoken about our government funding it.”
He continued, “And I shared with the president in our meeting about the concern that many New Yorkers have of wanting their tax dollars to go to the benefit of New Yorkers, and their ability to afford basic dignity.”
The meeting came one day after a protest outside an Upper East Side synagogue that was holding an event promoting immigration to Israel drew condemnations; Mamdani’s spokesperson said he “discouraged” the language used in the protest, but suggested the event was a misuse of the “sacred space.”
A question about Jewish safety was asked immediately after the press conference concluded, which Mamdani stuck around to answer, though he did not address Thursday’s protest.
“I care very deeply about Jewish safety and I look forward to rooting out antisemitism across the five boroughs and protecting Jewish New Yorkers and every New Yorker who calls the city home,” Mamdani said.
Trump praised Mamdani’s decision to keep Jessica Tisch, who comes from a prominent Jewish family, as his police commissioner.
“He just retained a great police commissioner,” Trump said. “He retained I think somebody that is a friend of some people in my family, Ivanka, and they say she’s really good, really competent.”
While Mamdani’s appointment of Tisch has reassured some Jewish New Yorkers concerned about the community’s safety, others more critical of Mamdani were not swayed.
Rep. Elise Stefanik, who is running for governor as a Republican, has positioned herself as a bulwark against antisemitism who will prevent Mamdani from achieving the state legislative wins necessary for his democratic socialist agenda.
But Trump appeared to undercut Stefanik, disagreeing with her claim that Mamdani is a “jihadist.”
“No, I don’t,” Trump said, when asked if he believed he was seated next to a jihadist on Friday. “But she’s out there campaigning. You say things sometimes in a campaign.”
Praising Stefanik, he said, “She’s a very capable person.” Then he said about Mamdani, “I met with a very rational person. I met with a man who really wants to see New York be great again.”
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