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A Jewish producer of ‘All Quiet On The Western Front’ sees his family history in the Oscar-nominated Netflix film
(JTA) — The film producer Daniel Dreifuss has only one surviving photo of a distant relative: his grandfather’s cousin, who fought for Germany in World War I and died in combat two days before the war’s end.
He has a few more photos of his grandfather, who also wore the German uniform in WWI — only to be rounded up by the Nazis two decades later during Kristallnacht and thrown into a concentration camp, as even the Jews who had fought for their country were not safe from its campaign of race extermination.
Dreifuss, who was raised in Brazil after his surviving ancestors fled the war to Uruguay, held up these weathered black-and-white photos to his Zoom camera as he spoke to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency from his home in Los Angeles. One shows his grandfather’s cousin in his military uniform, the other shows his grandparents posing together, between the wars.
“Twenty years later, your country, that you just gave your health for and your cousin for and your family for, sends you to a camp,” he said. “It’s a lot of trauma to have to go through in one lifetime.”
These family stories echoed through Dreifuss’ mind when he first read the script for a proposed modern take on “All Quiet on the Western Front,” the classic 1928 novel about the German army’s hellish experiences during World War I. Nearly a century later, author Erich Maria Remarque’s descriptions of trench warfare and of the utter lack of heroism, valor or patriotism felt by its soldier protagonists resonated with Dreifuss.
“I said, ‘I know these people,’” he recalled. “Not because they are some distant relatives that I’ve heard of, but because I am the grandson of one of those kids who were in the film.”
Dreifuss’ parents met at a Jewish youth group in Rio de Janeiro in the 1960s. “My father was my mother’s madrich,” he recalled, using the Hebrew word for a youth group counselor. After they were later married, they moved to Israel partially to avoid Brazil’s military dictatorship and became left-wing political activists. They left Israel just before the Yom Kippur War and relocated to Scotland, where Dreifuss was born, before returning to Brazil to raise him.
Dreifuss had his bar mitzvah in the city of Belo Horizonte before later moving to Rio, which has a much larger Jewish community. “My family was never at all religious, but culturally Jewish,” he said, recalling Passover celebrations and gefilte fish recipes. He did not have many Jewish friends growing up, but his Brazilian friends were interested in Judaism and would attend his family’s Jewish events.
Daniel Dreifuss, a producer of Netflix’s “All Quiet on the Western Front,” holds up a photo of his grandfather Max Dreifuss from 1919, recovering from his German military service in WWI. Max was sent to a concentration camp once the Nazis took power. (Courtesy of Daniel Dreifuss)
This global upbringing is reflected in Dreifuss’ interest in international film. It took a decade for him to mount his remake of “All Quiet,” which was eventually set up with a German production company and released by Netflix this past fall amid another endless military conflict in Europe. No one, he said, wanted to fund a resolutely anti-war film that refused to glorify its combatants, a film that was “never a hero’s journey, not the story of someone who came, you know, beat 1,000 people with their bare hands, triumphs and looks down on top of a hill at the end with some sweeping score.”
But that journey has been validated by the film’s impressive Oscar total, which surprised industry observers. At the nomination ceremony last month, “All Quiet” received nine total nods, the second most of any film this year, including for best picture — which the novel’s original 1930 Hollywood adaptation, directed by Jewish filmmaker Lewis Milestone, won. (This year’s Academy Awards will be held March 12.)
Considering the Nazis had once led a campaign of book burning against the source material and terrorized German movie theaters that showed the original movie adaptation, accusing it of being a “Judenfilm,” Dreifuss sees the new film’s success as a historical victory, too. “I love that my name will be associated with a story that was deemed degenerate by that regime,” he said.
When he was first presented with an early draft of the new “All Quiet” script, in 2013, Dreifuss was coming off of the success of another international historical film he had produced. “No,” a 1980s-set Chilean political drama, starred Gael Garcia Bernal as an ad executive tasked with convincing his country to vote the dictator Augusto Pinochet out of office. The film netted Chile’s first-ever Oscar nomination for international feature film, although Dreifuss himself is not Chilean.
In researching “No,” Dreifuss said, the film’s team had trouble finding Chileans who would admit to having cast their real-life vote in Pinochet’s favor — even though 40% of the population did so. “We couldn’t find one single person who supported him,” he recalled. “At some point, years later, no one wanted to say, ‘I supported it, I voted, I was on that side.’” He saw a parallel to the history of geopolitics in the run-up to WWII, when many Western countries — including his family’s adopted homeland of Brazil — were initially sympathetic to the Nazis.
When Hollywood studios turned down the proposed remake of “All Quiet,” forcing Dreifuss to turn to European financing, he saw an opportunity to mount the first-ever German adaptation of the property, which would allow the film to open up a “historical perspective” on how the aftermath of WWI led to the rise of the Nazis and the Holocaust.
German filmmaker Edward Berger, who also helmed several episodes of the espionage miniseries “Deutschland 83,” stepped into the director’s chair, and he also has a co-writing credit. German star Daniel Brühl, who has played many historical villains to the Jewish people in films ranging from “7 Days in Entebbe” to “The Zookeeper’s Wife,” took a key supporting role as the lead negotiator for the armistice agreements — the sole figure in the movie trying to find a peaceful resolution for his country. (The historical figure Brühl portrays, Matthias Erzberger, was vilified as a traitor by the German right and assassinated in 1921 by antisemitic nationalist radicals who were precursors to the Nazis.)
Though there are no explicitly Jewish characters in the film, Dreifuss believes it still speaks to the fate that would soon await Europe’s Jews.
“We know what followed in the decade in Germany,” he said. “So we could bring that to the film in subtle ways.”
He pointed to the armistice plotline that foreshadows how the Treaty of Versailles left Germany in a deeply disadvantaged position, creating an opportunity for Hitler’s brand of national populism. There are also scenes in which thoughtless German generals, driven by nationalistic fervor and wounded pride, send entire squadrons to their deaths mere minutes before the armistice is set to take effect. In one sequence, the film’s lead, the soldier Paul (Felix Kammerer), steals a goose from a French farming family of non-combatants and says: “It’s a hatred of the other, of not understanding, of being raised to have an enemy.”
Dreifuss is dipping into a different chapter of world Jewish history with his next project: a Showtime miniseries produced with the co-creators of the Israeli Netflix series “Fauda” that explores CIA operations in the Middle East and is partially set during the Lebanon War in which Israel had a heavy, and oft-criticized, military presence. The series will air this summer.
He has also been pitched a host of WWI and WWII-related projects in the wake of the success of “All Quiet.” But, he joked, “I would love for people to not only think of me as the war guy, or as the dictator guy.”
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The post A Jewish producer of ‘All Quiet On The Western Front’ sees his family history in the Oscar-nominated Netflix film appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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I’m a Student at UChicago — I See Antisemitism Thrive Among Young Chinese Students
Chinese Foreign Minister Wag Yi stands with Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Sergey Ryabkov and Iranian Deputy Foreign Minister Kazeem Gharibabadi before a meeting regarding the Iranian nuclear issue at Diaoyutai State Guest House on March 14, 2025 in Beijing, China. Photo: Pool via REUTERS
Recently, a popular AI meme has begun circulating in Chinese online discourse in the Chicago area. The image features a stereotypical Jewish-looking man with a beard, a long nose, and a Star of David necklace, holding the K visa and standing next to a model of China.
While many laughed at the surreal sarcasm, others took it seriously and warned, “Watch out! They will come in masses and take over China!”
The meme’s spread reveals how casual humor has disguised deeper prejudice and how misinformation about China’s K-visa policy is feeding new antisemitic narratives among young Chinese students.
The antisemitism of China may seem like a tree without roots, since the Chinese people do not have a relatively long history of engaging with large Jewish populations.
The fact that Jews as foreigners explains the emergence and manifestations of the “International Jewish Conspiracy Theory,” which positions Jews as symbols of capitalism who will bring foreign capitalist influence into China and degrade China to a miserable state.
Clearly the origins of this modern Chinese antisemitism are influenced by Western culture, as can be seen every time voices in Chinese discourse accuse Jews as a collective of controlling the banks. This, coupled with stereotypes about Jews being global capitalists that have survived within China’s rich tradition of Communism — and the Chinese people’s concern about foreign influence — has been the main vehicle for Chinese antisemitism.
This fusion of foreign conspiracy and local economic fear doesn’t just misinform — it risks normalizing hatred among a generation that should know better.
The current rumor making the rounds centers on China’s so-called “K-visa,” a new policy intended to attract highly skilled young foreign professionals and scholars with advanced STEM degrees or professional experience.
The program is open to any applicant who meets China’s professional criteria, regardless of religion or ethnicity. But the lack of clear, accessible explanations in Chinese-language media has left a vacuum that rumors eagerly fill. These rumors are particularly antisemitic, pointing directly at Jews for implementing the K visa.
Online, however, interpretations of this visa have been twisted into baseless conspiracy theories. The comment sections of various posts from WeChat and RedNotes are filled with outcries from Chinese students all around the world, claiming that the visa was “designed for Jews to penetrate, corrupt, and eventually control China” and that “Jews abroad are cheering over this victory,” evidence, they say, of a secret plan for mass immigration.
This opinion is fundamentally wrong. Not only is the conspiracy fundamentally irrational, but this kind of antisemitic scapegoating has been used to manipulate the public. There is a long history of Western and Middle Eastern leaders blaming their failures on the Jews instead of acting responsibly. If the K-Visa program does not strengthen the country as hoped, what benefit is there to waste time blaming the Jews instead of learning from the experience and improving the program?
Additionally, what exactly is the harm they imagine will occur if a small influx of Jewish scientists choose to bring their knowledge and energy to benefit the people of China? The last time China was introduced to Jewish innovation, we gained the drip irrigation system, an innovative method of agricultural science that has helped feed China’s 1.4 billion people.
Unfortunately, merely debunking these myths is not enough to combat antisemitism in mainstream Chinese culture.
What is needed is dialogue and more opportunities for fact-based education. Firstly, UChicago and the local Chinese Students and Scholars Association chapters should organize and support events that facilitate cross-cultural conversations and host more intellectually and culturally diverse speaker events where scholars, religious figures, and students can openly discuss intersections of Jewish and Chinese culture and history.
My hope in writing this piece is not to condemn the Chinese overseas population, but to help my peers understand that antisemitism is not unique to the West; it comes in all shapes and forms, and from many cultures.
Many who share or believe antisemitic narratives do so without realizing the harm they perpetuate. As a Chinese person myself, I used to have very stereotypical views of the Jewish people, but my curiosity to learn more about Jewish life and culture led me to attend Shabbat dinners where I experienced first hand what it’s like to face hostility and aggression for no other reason than expressing someone’s identity. Only through awareness and self-reflection can we all refrain from falling into the traps of hatred.
Angella Tang is a UChicago Biology student and a CAMERA fellow passionate about fostering cross-cultural and interfaith understanding.
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The Palestinian Authority Vowed to Liberate Jerusalem Long Before Hamas
PLO leader leader Yasser Arafat. Photo: World Economic Forum.
When Hamas named its October 7 massacre the Al-Aqsa Flood, it framed its atrocities as an Islamic holy mission to liberate Jerusalem from the Jews. The message was clear: rape and kill Jews for the sake of Al-Aqsa and Jerusalem.
What is less understood is that the Palestinian Authority (PA) and its ruling Fatah movement have been preaching that same message — long before Hamas.
In honor of the anniversary of Yasser Arafat’s death, Fatah’s Information and Culture Commission posted a famous Arafat slogan: “Don’t call out for me, rather call out for Palestine and Jerusalem: With spirit, with blood, we will redeem you, Palestine. Millions of Martyrs are marching to Jerusalem!”
Two days later, also marking the anniversary of Arafat’s death, the PA Ministry of Education published photos of children — with one holding a sign with the identical Arafat slogan.
For all the diplomatic illusions of a “moderate” Fatah that should replace “extremist” Hamas, the truth is simple: both teach the same strategy — Martyrdom to destroy Israel and liberate Jerusalem. The Al-Aqsa Flood is Hamas’ battlefield expression of the same fundamental ideology that the PA constantly feeds its children in its classrooms, streets, and cultural events.
The cult of Martyrdom and violence against Israel long predated Hamas and was spearheaded by Yasser Arafat, as memorialized at this PA school in honor of the anniversary of his death:
Text on sign on left: “They want me dead, exiled, or imprisoned, and I tell them: Martyr, Martyr, Martyr” [an infamous quote from Yasser Arafat]
Text on sign on right: “I am the youngest soldier in Palestine”
The culture of Martyrdom and terror-glorification is still proudly upheld by both the PA and Hamas today, with the message remaining the same: dying for Jerusalem and killing Jews is the highest calling.
As long as Palestinian leaders continue to sanctify this death cult, both the PA and Hamas will be planning the next October 7 “Al-Aqsa Flood.”
Ephraim D. Tepler is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch (PMW). Itamar Marcus is the Founder and Director of PMW, where a version of this article first appeared.
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In Denver, a Jewish day school happily copes with a surge in new students
(JTA) — This article was produced as part of JTA’s Teen Journalism Fellowship, a program that works with Jewish teens around the world to report on issues that affect their lives. Author Drew Kaplan is a student at Denver Jewish Day School.
Denver Jewish Day School’s principal never thought he would spend so much time looking at school furniture catalogs.
Jeremy Golubcow-Teglasi needed to turn a former workspace into a classroom for a middle school math class and occasional Hebrew classes. Between this and needing to increase the capacity in a few other rooms, he was in the market for new desks, chairs, and tables to serve the 37 new students who have joined DJDS over the past two years.
Enrollment in DJDS’ upper division, which is middle and high school, is 19% higher than it was two years ago.
“Space has suddenly become a real constraint,” said Golubcow-Teglasi, who leads the upper school. “When you put 70 more people in a building that normally houses 120, you have to get creative about space.” Currently, the upper division has 189 students, an all-time high.
He and others describe the growth as a reflection of the rise in antisemitism and increase in Jewish identity following the war in Israel, causing many families to seek a larger Jewish community for their children. As a result, enrollment in Jewish schools like DJDS has increased since Oct. 7, following a similar nationwide trend. Now Jewish schools across the country are having to suddenly adapt to surges in enrollment, causing schools like DJDS—where this reporter has been a student for the past 12 years—to hire more teachers, buy more furniture, and adapt their class offerings.
Across the country, more than half of surveyed U.S. schools have seen an increase in students or families considering enrollment since Oct. 7, according to Prizmah, a network of Jewish day schools and yeshivas.
Additionally, 60% of the 72 schools it surveyed last school year, “identified new students who enrolled in Jewish day schools this school year as a result of the change in climate post Oct. 7,” according to a “Trends Update” released in February.
Donna Klein High School in Palm Beach County, Florida, saw an increase of 177 students the year following Oct. 7. Of those students, 35 families said they made the switch due to antisemitism or anti-Zionism.
Similar to Donna Klein, 80% of families joined DJDS since the 2023-24 school year, citing Jewish Identity & Environment as influencing their decision to transfer. Additionally 67% cited school-wide community as a reason, 61% cited Physical Safety, and 53% cited social-emotional safety. These same reasons, according to Golubcow-Teglasi, also contributed to the higher retention rates seen at DJDS.
Few families cited antisemitism explicitly as a factor for transferring to DJDS, according to Golubcow-Teglasi, who said it was sometimes mentioned as a factor, but he was never entirely sold that Oct. 7 alone is driving DJDS’s enrollment growth. “But I think it’s a reasonable hypothesis.”
Enrollment has increased in two distinct “surges,” Golubcow-Teglasi said. The first was after the Covid-19 pandemic, and the subsequent school year, when families were drawn to a small, largely in-person school. But that accelerated pattern of enrollment flattened out until the second “surge” hit following the Oct. 7 attacks.
The school year after the Oct. 7 attacks in Israel, 21 new students joined the Upper Division. Annabelle Dennis and Hailey Lutz were among the new transfers.
Dennis, a junior, transferred from a private Catholic school. “I really wanted a smaller school and community,” she said, “the kids were questionable — really just antisemitic.”
Dennis struggled as many students came up to her and made hateful comments. “People have asked me why I don’t have horns, and people have told me I killed their Lord and Savior, and they can never forgive me,” she said.
The school’s administration “could have done a better job,” Dennis said. She said that regarding most cases of antisemitism, the administration looked the other way, “sometimes it was handled, but most of the time, they did not handle anything.”
Lutz, a senior at DJDS, transferred the school year after Oct. 7 because she was tired of her schoolmates constantly bringing up the situation in Israel and Gaza. As one of the only Jews at her school, she looked to transfer to a school where she could be herself.
Students at her school “had a lot of questions on what was going on, especially with all the misinformation being spread on social media,” she said. “People weren’t necessarily antisemitic or anti-Jewish, but they were asking questions. She said she felt as if classmates were trying to get her to say that Israel was committing a genocide in Gaza or agree with other assertions that Lutz described as “propaganda or misinformation.”
Holden Demain spent his first semester of 11th grade away from DJDS, the school he’s attended since Kindergarten, attending school in Washington, D.C. as part of the U.S. Senate Page Program.
After returning to DJDS in the middle of the 2024-2025 school year, Demain noticed the changes at the school.
“The hallways are damn crowded, which is great,” Demain said. “There is so much more opportunity to create different kinds of clubs.”
Demain leads one such club, Zemirot, where students sing traditional Jewish songs. This year at DJDS, there is also a new baking club, a Hacky Sack club, and a financial literacy club.
Similar to Golubcow-Teglasi, Demain does not fully attribute the surge in enrollment to Oct. 7; he also credits the population growth in Denver and students switching from other Jewish schools in the area.
“I think it’s been really good. There are a bunch of new opportunities, like you can make new friends that you never would have met before,” said Kaitlin Schatz, a junior entering her fifth year at DJDS. Schatz explains how it has been fun to see new students with different backgrounds.
But at the same time, more students being in the building means that there are space constraints. “We do not have enough gym space,” Golubcow-Teglasi said, to allow both high schoolers and middle schoolers to use the gym during lunch. There has been so much demand for the Advanced Placement United States History class this year that it is being offered in two different periods, whereas before it ran every other year. Last year, AP European History was also offered in two different periods for the first time.
Jerry Rotenberg, an upper-division Judaics teacher and student council advisor, said that teacher workload has definitely increased. “There’s more work to do — more tests and assignments to grade, and preparations take longer,” Rotenberg noted that it isn’t necessarily an added stress, just more on his plate.
Meanwhile, during particularly busy periods, some classes meet in the hallways.
“It’s probably the worst place to have a class,” said Hannah Gruenwald, a senior who is taking her yearbook editor class in the DJDS lobby. It makes sense that the two-student class would be put in this situation, Gruenwald says, “but it isn’t conducive to learning. Having a table would be nice.”
The post In Denver, a Jewish day school happily copes with a surge in new students appeared first on The Forward.