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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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Dating in New York after Oct. 7 was already painful. Then came Zohran Mamdani
I was considering getting back together with someone I dated earlier this year. When we reconnected this past summer, we hit it off again instantly. As we took in the sunset along the East River promenade, we reminisced about how easily the conversation had always flowed between us.
But then, she had to ask the question: “Who are you going to vote for?”
“I have to vote for Mamdani,” I said.
And that was the end of that. It became a Zohran Mamdani breakup. Or, Mamdani, the Democratic candidate for New York City mayor, torched the chances of us getting back together. I have him to blame — or thank — for that one.
Dating in New York City has never been easy. Dating here as a divorced 40-something Jewish dad seeking to meet other Jews in a post-Oct. 7 world, with an autocrat as president and a democratic socialist running for mayor, is almost impossible. There are so many political reasons to decide it’s not worth it to pursue a relationship with someone — even before determining how well you’d really get along.
When I resumed using dating apps this spring, after the end of my first long-term relationship following my divorce, I noticed that way more Jewish women in their 30s and 40s were listing their politics as “moderate” than I’d ever seen before. Many of them showcased Israeli flags or Stars of David in their bios or noted something positive about Israel or Zionism.
As I began chatting with potential interests, I learned that for some women, the aftermath of the Oct. 7 attack had transformed them from social liberals into supporters of President Donald Trump, due to Republicans’ perceived alignment with Israel’s interests. Others were liberal and perhaps even progressive in many of their views, but adamantly Zionist. They were thus much more conservative than me when it came to any question about Israel’s right to keep prosecuting a war with an exceptionally high civilian death toll.
Being back on the dating scene was a minefield. And then Mamdani’s stunning surge in the Democratic mayoral primary began.
I wasn’t ready to vote for Mamdani in the primary, instead ranking his Jewish ally, former Comptroller Brad Lander, first. But the more I learned, the more comfortable I was with Mamdani’s vision and plans for New York. And he’s running for mayor of New York City, after all, not Tel Aviv.
Yet what I found: With many potential dates, even an allusion to Mamdani would halt any progress in its tracks.
Just this month — ironically, on Oct. 7 — I was having a pleasant back-and-forth with someone on Lox Club, the supposedly selective dating app for Jews with “ridiculously high standards.” I was increasingly eager to meet her: She was bright, pretty, well-traveled, and, most importantly, starting to find me hilarious.
She lived in Manhattan, like me. But when I asked about where she’s from, she said she’s from Long Island and that she’ll likely move back after the election if Mamdani wins.
Part of me was tempted to say whatever was needed to at least score a date. I could have done the texting version of smiling and nodding, perhaps validating her fears and saying I’m worried too. But I suspected I’d be wasting my time pretending we could accommodate differing outlooks on the city’s future. I texted her that I’m convinced a Mamdani administration would be way better for the city than most people fear. Still, it seemed our views were too divergent, as much as I’d have loved to meet her. She agreed, and I ruefully tapped “unmatch.”
In some ways, it seems frivolous to lament the plight of diaspora dating. The trauma experienced by Jewish daters in the comfortable environs of New York City can’t possibly be compared to the trauma of those who experienced the terror of Oct. 7, or the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza during the subsequent war.
But there’s a real cost to Jews becoming more suspicious of one another. We risk isolating ourselves into smaller and smaller blocs, making it harder for us to connect once we find each other.
It also means that those who take a less reactive and more nuanced view wind up silencing themselves. How can I express that my heart was torn apart every time I heard first-hand accounts from freed hostages who returned to Israel — but that I also grieve deeply over the devastation in Gaza? How can I admit that former Gov. Andrew Cuomo has a good track record in connecting with Jewish voters and would likely reliably stand up to antisemitism, but be more compelled by Mamdani’s infectious love for New York City — and believe his criticism of Israel doesn’t make him an antisemite?
And how can I express my love for Israel — the idea of it and its people, though not necessarily its government — while voting for a candidate who questions Israel’s viability as a Jewish state?
For too many Jewish daters like myself, there is increasingly a sense that looking for someone who is also willing to take an open-minded approach to conflicting political truths is like praying for a miracle.
There was one promising moment, before my springtime interest and I decided not to renew our romance, that gave me hope. My date and I watched an episode of Real Time with Bill Maher, one of her favorite shows, together. I hadn’t seen his show in so many years that I was game to see why she enjoyed it so much.
I was surprised she could find humor in someone so critical of Trump, the president for whom she voted. She was surprised I could agree with a lot of the centrist views from Maher and his guests, most of which didn’t toe the progressive line. I told her that night that if things worked out between us, we’d have to invite Maher to our wedding.
That obviously didn’t happen. But I still think we need more moments like that — opportunities to appreciate both our commonalities and differences. I could envision another version of that relationship, where we end up listening to different podcasts and following different Instagram accounts, but still find areas where we can share similar perspectives and laugh at the same jokes.
I’m skeptical, and disheartened. But I’m still holding out hope for some future “Maher weddings” — even though with every swipe right or left, it feels increasingly naïve to think that. And yet, at heart, I’m a Jew, and I’ve studied enough of the history of the Jews to know that we’ve been through worse. We’ll get through this. But not before more anniversaries of Oct. 7 have passed.
The post Dating in New York after Oct. 7 was already painful. Then came Zohran Mamdani appeared first on The Forward.
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NYC’s Eric Adams condemns anti-Israel art exhibit: ‘Activism is not an excuse for antisemitism’
(JTA) — New York City Mayor Eric Adams used his podium in City Hall Thursday to take aim at an anti-Israel art installation that appeared on Governors Island over the weekend.
In a virtual address, Adams also took thinly veiled aim at Zohran Mamdani, the frontrunner to replace him after next week’s election, suggesting that the kind of antisemitism that he said had festered even under his leadership would explode under Mamdani’s.
Adams’ address centered on an installation, housed in the House 11 cabin owned by the Trust for Governors Island and occupied by Swale, a floating food forest nonprofit, that featured paintings that included the words “F—k Israel Ln” and “Hamas Lover.”
The exhibit, which was displayed on Sunday, was “unsanctioned by Governor’s Island” and was taken down a few hours after it was installed, Adams said.
“This incident disturbs me, and it should disturb anyone with a conscience,” said Adams in a virtual address from City Hall on Thursday. “I’ve talked a lot about how we’ve seen these incidents erode the fabric of cities across the globe, but in New York City, we must never tolerate this type of prejudice.”
Swale denounced the exhibit in a post on Instagram, writing that it was “devastated that someone would use a restorative project for their own personal platform for sowing discord.”
“The individual responsible was not part of our programming and not an artist-in-residence,” the post read. “The unapproved artist was invited into an empty back studio by a current artist-in-residence during seasonal wind-down without authorization to display work. We view this as a deliberate and malicious act by the artist.”
The artist allegedly behind the installation, Rebecca Goyette, who was identified by the New York Post, authored an op-ed in Hyperallergic where she described developing a relationship with a Palestinian dentist after working on a pro-Palestinian protest at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Adams, who dropped out of the mayoral race last month and last week endorsed Mamdani’s rival, Andrew Cuomo, used his address to decry what he described as the normalization of antisemitism in New York City.
“We are now watching as antisemitism is institutionalized right before our very eyes,” said Adams. “Before we know it, hate moves to the mainstream, and once it is in the mainstream, it becomes much harder to mobilize against. We saw that with apartheid. We saw that with the Holocaust, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t see seeds of it planted within our own city government.”
Later, Adams took aim at “those who want to say they want to globalize the intifada,” an apparent reference to mayoral frontrunner Zohran Mamdani who caught fire from Jewish leaders after he declined to condemn the pro-Palestinian slogan during a podcast appearance in June.
A month later, Mamdani told business leaders at a closed-door meeting that he would discourage the use of the phrase.
“I know it is not too late for New York,” said Adams. “We will never surrender our city to hate or to those who want to say they want to ‘globalize the intifada,’ or to choose and believe and not refuse to condemn it, because it’s literally a phrase that means death to Jews all over the world.”
The post NYC’s Eric Adams condemns anti-Israel art exhibit: ‘Activism is not an excuse for antisemitism’ appeared first on The Forward.
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How Mamdani built bridges to Jewish New Yorkers, from Williamsburg to Park Slope
In his quest to become the first Muslim mayor of the city that is home to the largest Jewish community in the United States, Zohran Mamdani has created a rare coalition of progressive Jews, liberal Zionists, and segments of the Hasidic community.
Mamdani, a democratic socialist and critic of Israel, has been boosted by local Jewish elected officials and embraced by prominent rabbis, even as the frontrunner continues to struggle to earn the trust of many Jewish New Yorkers in the race for New York City mayor.
In a quiet victory, two Satmar Hasidic factions, considered the largest blocs of voters in the Haredi community, on Wednesday declared that they would not endorse any candidate for mayor, while also condemning the “fear campaign” and attacks on Mamdani.
The non-endorsement amounted to an implicit acknowledgment of Mamdani’s ascendancy going into Tuesday’s election. The approximately 80,000 voters in Brooklyn’s Haredi communities, where rabbinic dictates about ballot choices lead to a reliable bloc of support, are particularly sought after by candidates. In previous mayoral elections, the Satmar faction in Brooklyn, led by Rabbi Aaron Teitelbaum from Kiryas Joel and known as the Ahronim, endorsed the eventual winner, even while other Hasidic blocs supported rival candidates.
Cuomo still enjoys broad support among Jewish voters, who make up an estimated 10% of the general election electorate. A recent Quinnipiac poll of 170 Jewish voters showed Cuomo with 60% of their support and Mamdani with 16%, while a separate Marist poll of 792 likely voters — including an 11% sample of Jewish voters — found Cuomo with 55% and Mamdani at 32% among Jewish respondents.
How Mamdani got here
The campaign for mayor has laid bare deep fault lines over Israel, antisemitism and Jewish leadership.
Mamdani’s positions on Israel and his ties to the Democratic Socialists of America have roiled Jews — in New York and across the country — amid rising antisemitism. The Democratic nominee faced scrutiny for: refusing to outright condemn the slogan “globalize the intifada;” reiterating support for Palestinians in his statement on the Gaza ceasefire; vowing to arrest Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu if he visits New York; and saying he doesn’t recognize Israel as a Jewish state. He is the first major-party nominee to pledge public support for the movement to boycott Israel.
Those positions sparked voter registration drives across Brooklyn’s Orthodox community, early voting mobilization efforts, and an unprecedented wave of prominent rabbis, once hesitant to engage in politics, publicly urging support for Cuomo.
But Mamdani wasn’t deterred by the opposition. He attended High Holiday services at Kolot Chaiyeinu and the Lab/Shul, he addressed members of Congregation Beth Elohim for a community conversation earlier this month, and visited Hasidic leaders in South Williamsburg during Sukkot. On the second anniversary of Oct. 7, he appeared at an Israelis for Peace vigil alongside hostage families. Mamdani also published an open letter in Yiddish, outlining his plans to combat antisemitism and advance his affordability agenda, and gave an interview to a popular Yiddish magazine, Der Moment.
Mamdani told the Forward that he “deeply appreciated” the opportunity to meet with a broad spectrum of Jewish New Yorkers across these five boroughs in recent months. “It’s been meaningful to hear their hopes, their dreams, and their concerns for and about this city.”
In his public remarks on the campaign trail, Mamdani said that in those conversations, he assured them he would increase police protection outside houses of worship and Jewish institutions and invest in hate crime prevention programs. He also vowed to retain police commissioner Jessica Tisch, who is Jewish, which was also viewed as a gesture to reassure Jewish New Yorkers worried about rising antisemitism.
Mamdani said he would use a city curriculum in public schools that teaches about Jewish Americans and seems to contradict his own position on Israel. He also assured liberal Zionists that support for Israel would not be a litmus test for serving in his administration.
In an open letter to their followers published on Wednesday, the Satmar leadership highlighted Mamdani’s gestures that specifically addressed their concerns. They noted that the Democratic nominee has said he would work to protect Hasidic yeshivas that face scrutiny for failing to meet state education standards and promised that Hasidic families would benefit from his proposals to expand affordable housing and establish universal childcare.
Jamie Beran, chief executive of Bend the Arc: Jewish Action, a progressive Jewish social justice activist network which issued its first-ever mayoral endorsement for Mamdani, praised his outreach efforts.
“I really do think that he has done a lot to address the concerns of the Jewish community and to build relationships with the Jewish community,” Beran said in an interview. “I really believe him that he’s not just doing that to court votes, but because he genuinely wants to represent all of those constituents when he’s mayor.”
Phylisa Wisdom, executive director of the liberal New York Jewish Agenda, participated in the Beth Elohim community conversation with Mamdani, and said she believes the candidate has made significant progress in engaging Jewish voters since the primary.
“I feel confident that a broad spectrum of Jewish voices have been heard by his campaign,” Wisdom said. “I’m hearing from people who either didn’t support him in the primary or ranked him lower on their ballot that they now feel reassured.”
Unity if Mamdani wins
The prospect of Mamdani winning has already led organizations to issue a call for unity after the election.
The open letter, signed by more than 30 rabbis, progressive leaders and liberal groups, urges New Yorkers to heed the call of the prophet Jeremiah to “seek the peace of the city” we’re in, “to put our backs into making the structures of tomorrow a little bit better than the structures of today. And that means working in the best possible faith with whoever is in City Hall.”
Bend the Arc’s Beran said that the post-election period is an opportunity for bridge-building, both within the Jewish community and across ideological divides. “We need to build a coalition that doesn’t break along our fault lines,” she said. “We need to make space to reckon with them and to be comfortable with some degree of disagreement if we’re going to unite against the forces that are really threatening our safety and livelihoods.”
Mamdani’s administration and his actual record in office could shift perception, she said. “Once people see how he actually governs and how he actually leads, I’m hoping that will open the door for some reconciliation,” she said.
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