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As ‘The Marvelous Mrs Maisel’ ends, will its Jewish legacy be more than a punchline?
(JTA) — After five seasons, 20 Emmy awards and plenty of Jewish jokes, “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” airs its final episode on Friday.
The lauded Amazon Prime show from Amy Sherman-Palladino has enveloped viewers in a shimmering, candy-colored version of New York during the late 1950s and early 1960s — a world in which “humor” has meant Jewish humor and “culture” has meant Jewish culture.
But as it comes to an end, the show’s Jewish legacy is still up for debate: Did its representation of Jews on mainstream TV make it a pioneer of the 2010s? Or did it do more harm than good in the battle for better representation, by reinforcing decades-old comedic tropes about Jews?
The comedy-drama followed the vivacious Midge Maisel (Rachel Brosnahan) on a journey from prim Upper West Side housewife — left in the lurch after her husband has an affair with his secretary — to ambitious, foul-mouthed comic fighting her way through the male-dominated standup comedy industry. Her New York Jewishness colored her jokes, her accent, her mannerisms and much of her daily life.
That’s because the whole landscape of the show was Jewish, from the well-to-do, acculturated intelligentsia (such as Midge’s parents) to the self-made garment factory owners (such as her in-laws). Even the radical Jewish comic Lenny Bruce, a countercultural icon of the midcentury, appeared as a recurring character who propels Midge’s success.
Henry Bial, a professor specializing in performance theory and Jewish popular culture at the University of Kansas, said the emergence of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” in 2017 exemplified a shift to more overt portrayals of Jews on TV — especially on streaming services. Although Jewish characters featured in TV shows throughout the 20th century, such as “The Goldbergs” in the 1950s, “Rhoda” in the 1970s and “Seinfeld” in the 1990s, their Jewishness was often more coded than explicit. Network television, seeking to attract the majority of Americans coveted by advertisers, feared alienating audiences who couldn’t “relate” to ethnic and racial minorities.
“If there are only three things you can put on television at 8 o’clock on Tuesday night, then there’s a lot more incentive for networks and advertisers to stay close to the herd, because you’re competing for the same eyeballs,” said Bial. “But when people can watch whatever they want whenever they want, then it opens up for a much wider range of stories.”
Other shows such as “Transparent,” “Broad City” and “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend,” which debuted in 2014 and 2015, are often cited alongside “Mrs. Maisel” as part of a new wave of Jewish representation.
Riv-Ellen Prell, a professor emerita of American studies at the University of Minnesota, argued that Midge subverts the stereotype of the “Jewish American princess.” At the start of the show, she appears to embrace that image: She is financially dependent on her father and husband and obsessive about her appearance, measuring her body every day to ensure that she doesn’t gain weight. Despite living with her husband for years, she always curls her hair, does her makeup and spritzes herself with perfume before he wakes up.
“She looks for all the world like the fantasy of a Jewish American princess,” said Prell. “And yet she is more ambitious than imaginable, she is a brilliant comic who draws on her own life. You have Amy Sherman-Palladino inventing the anti-Jewish princess.”
Bial said that Midge’s relationship with her Jewishness defies another stereotype: That identity is not a source of neurosis or self-loathing, as it often appears to be in the male archetypes of Woody Allen and Larry David, or in Rachel Bloom’s “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.” Through the spirited banter, the pointed exclamations of “oy,” the titillation over a rabbi coming for Yom Kippur break fast — Midge’s Jewishness is a source of comforting ritual, joy and celebration.
“She has anxieties and issues, but none of them are because she’s Jewish,” said Bial.
Some critics argue the show’s depiction of Jewish culture relies on shallow tropes. In a 2019 review, TV critic Paul Brownfield said “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” repurposed stereotypes to appear “retro chic.” He pointed to a consistent contrast between the Weissmans (the assimilated, cultured Jews of the Upper West Side) and the Maisels (the boorish, money-focused Jews of the Garment District), arguing that these superficial types replace an exploration of what the period was actually like for American Jews.
“However ‘Jewish’ Sherman-Palladino wants the show to be, ‘Maisel’ fails to grapple with the realities of the moment in Jewish American history it portrays,” Brownfield wrote. “Which is ultimately what leaves me queasy about its tone — the shtick, the stereotypes, the comforting self-parody.”
Meanwhile, Andy Samberg took a jab while co-hosting the 2019 Golden Globes with Sandra Oh. “It’s the show that makes audiences sit up and say, ‘Wait, is this antisemitic?’” he joked.
Tony Shalhoub and Marin Hinkle, shown in a synagogue scene, are two of the show’s non-Jewish actors. (Nicole Rivelli/Amazon Studios)
Others have criticized the show’s casting: Its titular heroine, her parents Abe and Rose Weissman (Tony Shalhoub and Marin Hinkle) and Lenny Bruce (Luke Kirby) are all played by non-Jews. A debate over the casting of non-Jewish actors in Jewish roles has heated up in recent years, taking aim not only at Brosnahan as Midge Maisel, but also at Felicity Jones as Ruth Bader Ginsberg in “On The Basis of Sex,” Helen Mirren as Golda Meir in “Golda” and Gaby Hoffmann and Jay Duplass as the Pfefferman siblings in “Transparent.” Comedian Sarah Silverman popularized the term “Jewface” to critique the trend.
“Watching a gentile actor portraying, like, a Jew-y Jew is just — agh — feels, like, embarrassing and cringey,” Silverman said on her podcast in 2021.
Midge’s rise as a comedian is interlocked with her ally and one-time fling, the fictionalized Lenny Bruce. His character has a softened glow in the show, but in reality, Bruce was branded a “sick comic” for his scathing satire that railed against conservatism, racism and moral hypocrisy. Between 1961 and 1964, he was charged with violating obscenity laws in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago and New York, and he was deported from England. At his Los Angeles trial in 1963, Bruce was accused of using the Yiddish word “shmuck,” taken as an obscenity to mean “penis.” He incorporated the charge into his standup, explaining that the colloquial Jewish meaning of “schmuck” was “fool.”
Driven to pennilessness by relentless prosecution, police harassment and blacklisting from most clubs across the country, he died of a morphine overdose in 1966 at 40 years old. The real Lenny Bruce’s tragedy lends a shadow to the fictional Midge Maisel’s triumphs.
The United States that he struggled with until his death also looks comparatively rosy through the lens of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” whose protagonist battles misogyny but takes little interest in other societal evils — including still-rampant antisemitism. Some critics have noted that she is oblivious to segregated facilities when she tours with Black singer Shy Baldwin, then nearly outs him as gay during her set.
“‘Mrs. Maisel’ takes place in a supersaturated fantasy 1958 New York, one where antisemitism, racism, homophobia and even sexism are barely a whisper,” Rokhl Kafrissen wrote in 2018.
Reflecting on the criticism that had piled up by 2020, Sherman-Palladino and her husband Daniel Palladino, also an executive producer and a lead writer for the show, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that trying to appease every Jewish viewer was a futile exercise.
“We knew that if we show a Jewish family at temple — if we show them and talk about Yom Kippur and all those kinds of things — there are going to be people who are going to nitpick at specifics that maybe we didn’t get exactly right,” said Palladino, who is not Jewish. “But a lot of the feedback that we’ve gotten has been ‘Thank you. Thank you for leaning into it and showing Jews being Jewish, as opposed to just name checking them as Jewish.’”
Sherman-Palladino added: “[T]here are many different kinds of Jews! To say, ‘oh, Jewish stereotypes,’ well, what are you talking about? Because we have an educated Jew, we have a woman who was happy to be a mother, we have another woman striking out as a stand up comic, and, you know, Susie Myerson’s [Alex Borstein’s character] a Jew! We’ve got a broad range of Jews in there.”
However “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” is assessed in the future, it will remain significant for thrusting a new kind of Jewish heroine into the mainstream consciousness, said Bial.
“Because of its popularity, its longevity and frankly its quality, it’s going to be the example,” Bial said. “In the history of Jews and TV, this is going to be the chapter for the late 2010s and early 2020s — you have to mention ‘Mrs. Maisel.’ It is very clearly a landmark in Jewish representation, particularly for Jewish women.”
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The post As ‘The Marvelous Mrs Maisel’ ends, will its Jewish legacy be more than a punchline? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Iran’s Leaders, Like Pharaoh, Won’t Budge Until They Pay a Real Price for Their Wickedness
A demonstrator lights a cigarette with fire from a burning picture of Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei outside the Iranian embassy during a rally in support of nationwide protests in Iran, in London, Britain, Jan. 12, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Toby Melville
There is a particular kind of self-destructive confidence that exists only at the very top of a brutal regime. It isn’t courage, and it certainly isn’t principle. It’s raw hubris, reinforced by a self-belief so detached from reality that objective facts become little more than a distraction.
Napoleon spent his final days as leader of France convinced that one more maneuver could reverse his fate, even as Europe closed in around him. And 130 years later, in a Berlin bunker, Hitler issued orders to imaginary divisions as the Third Reich disintegrated above his head.
If you’ve been watching events in Iran over the past couple of weeks, that same detached hubris has been on full display. As protests spread from city to city – sparked by economic collapse and rapidly morphing into thousands openly calling for regime change – the response from the Islamic Republic’s highest echelons has been depressingly familiar: extrajudicial killings, mass arrests, internet blackouts, and the ritual denunciation of protesters as “vandals,” “terrorists,” or foreign agents doing America and Israel’s bidding.
Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, who has conveniently hidden himself away from any public contact, insists that the Islamic Republic “will not back down.” President Masoud Pezeshkian has expressed sympathy for the economic pain endured by ordinary Iranians, even as he authorizes the brutal crackdown.
Protesters have been shot and killed, hospitals are overwhelmed with casualties, and the death toll – including police and government workers – continues to climb, all while the leadership doubles down, as though sheer refusal to yield can still bend reality to its will.
It’s horrifying. But it’s also strangely predictable. Authoritarian regimes rarely collapse because they recognize their mistakes; they collapse when the protective bubble around their leaders finally bursts. Until that moment, what passes for strength is not power at all, but blindness — an inability to see the wood for the trees.
By the time you read this, the Iranian regime may have fallen, or it may have clawed its way through yet another crisis. Either way, the pattern is unmistakable, and the writing is on the wall: systems built on fear and insulation eventually join their predecessors in the dustbin of history.
Religious narrative often prefigures political reality. Which brings us to Pharaoh, the antihero of the opening chapters of the Book of Exodus. We first encounter him in Parshat Shemot as a brutal dictator, imposing unbearable suffering on the Hebrews through enslavement, persecution, and ultimately genocide.
By the time we reach Parshat Va’era, the stakes have escalated dramatically. Pharaoh refuses to relent to Moses’ demands to free the Hebrews, and Egypt is struck by a cascade of calamities: its water supply is contaminated, frogs overrun homes, lice infest the land, and so it goes on.
Life in Egypt grinds to a halt. The economy is crippled, normal existence becomes impossible, and yet, despite all this, Pharaoh barely flinches.
The Torah tells us that Pharaoh’s heart is hardened — first through his own stubbornness, and eventually by God, who gives him the strength to resist pressure to alleviate the suffering of his people.
But that explanation only deepens the puzzle. Why is Pharaoh so immune to the devastation unfolding around him? Why doesn’t he learn? Why doesn’t he adjust? Why does each plague simply provoke the next act of defiance?
The easy answer is that Pharaoh is wicked. But that answer isn’t very satisfying. Wicked people can still be pragmatic, and history offers plenty of examples of evil tyrants who knew when to retreat. Pharaoh doesn’t — and the reason is subtle but crucial.
Like so many brutal rulers across history, Pharaoh never truly experiences the consequences of his stubbornness personally. His advisers plead, the people suffer, the nation groans — but Pharaoh himself remains untouched. Power has wrapped him in cotton wool. He is insulated from reality, and it is precisely that insulation that allows him to harden his heart.
The Torah is teaching us something uncomfortable here. The most dangerous leaders are not the ideologues or the fanatics, but those who never pay a price for being wrong. When suffering is always outsourced – to citizens, soldiers, or convenient scapegoats – there is no internal mechanism that forces change.
And that is exactly what we are seeing in Iran. The clerical elite and the Revolutionary Guard leadership are not standing in breadlines. Their children are not dodging bullets in the streets. Their electricity has not been cut, their access to water remains secure, their wealth is intact, and their personal safety is guaranteed. The pain is being borne entirely by others – and so, like Pharaoh, they respond to an existential crisis not with reform or retreat, but by doubling down on repression and violence.
There is a tragic irony here, borne out by countless historical examples – from the time of Pharaoh through the four millennia that have followed. The more violence a regime unleashes, the clearer it becomes that it has run out of ideas.
Brutality against the people a government claims to represent and protect is not strength – it is the language of exhaustion. When leaders can no longer persuade, they intimidate. When they can no longer inspire fear, they escalate it instead.
It is precisely this dynamic that plays out in ancient Egypt. Each plague strips away another illusion of control, but instead of adapting, Pharaoh tightens his grip. He banishes Moses – the one person capable of ending Egypt’s day-to-day nightmare – and in doing so inflicts wave after wave of suffering on his own people.
The Torah does not portray Pharaoh as a strategic mastermind undone by clever tactics. It portrays him as a man trapped by his own power, unable to imagine a world in which he is not obeyed.
That, ultimately, is why the plagues have to escalate. Only when Pharaoh’s firstborn son dies in Parshat Bo – and Pharaoh, himself a firstborn, suddenly fears for his own life – does he finally relent, and even then, only briefly.
Hubris returns almost immediately. He pursues the Hebrews in a last, futile attempt to destroy them or drag them back into slavery, and his army is annihilated at the Red Sea. The Midrash leaves Pharaoh alive, the sole survivor, condemned to live on as a witness to the ruin he brought upon himself and his people.
History suggests that this pattern is remarkably consistent. Regimes that respond to dissent with ever harsher measures, deaf to the realities unfolding around them, are not demonstrating strength but buying time – and borrowed time always runs out.
Whether Iran’s current uprising ends tomorrow, next month, or further down the road is impossible to know. What is clear is that we have seen this story before, not only in modern history, but in the Torah itself.
Pharaoh’s story reminds us that hearts hardened by power rarely soften while there is still a chance to escape the deluge. Change is imposed when consequences can no longer be deflected, and when a system built on fear finally collapses under the weight of its own cruelty.
Pharaoh learned that lesson too late. History has been relearning it ever since.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.
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‘All Time Is Unredeemable’: A Core Message for Israel
Smoke billows following missile attack from Iran on Israel, at Tel Aviv, Israel, June 13, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Gideon Markowicz ISRAEL
“If all time is eternally present, all time is unredeemable.” — T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton
Behind the current noise about Iran, Hamas, America, Russia, Turkey, Qatar, etc., are much deeper conceptual issues. Accordingly, whatever the tangible facts of its strategic and tactical challenges, Israel will need to approach all potentially existential calculations at a conceptual level. In this connection, nothing could prove more important than variously contradictory ideas of time.
Precisely, what are the relevant contradictions? Though Israel lives according to “clock time,” its jihadi adversaries (both state and sub-state terror groups) regard all mechanistic chronologies as a theological profanation. It follows, inter alia, that pertinent conceptual differences on time could have major policy implications for the Jewish state’s management of war and terror.
All this will sound excruciatingly theoretic. Nonetheless, a clarifying bifurcation could be crucial to Israel’s survival. Israel’s jihadi enemies believe in “sacred time,” not “clock time,” a core belief that encourages “martyrdom operations.”
Plausibly, “over time,” these discrepant concepts of temporality and chronology could enlarge risks of a major war, including a nuclear war. To wit, even before Israel would have to face any operational nuclear adversaries, Jerusalem could find itself caught up in an “asymmetrical nuclear war.” The fact that only Israel could employ nuclear ordnance during such a conflict does not mean that Israel would necessarily avoid significant military harms.
There is more. At some point, a state enemy could become a “suicide bomber in macrocosm.” For Israel, no such force-magnification could ever be “acceptable.” Not to be minimized or overlooked in these sui generis calculations is that Israel is less than half the size of America’s Lake Michigan.
For Jerusalem, policy-relevant issues should always be framed in legal and military terms. Though generally unrecognized, Israel’s jihadi adversaries (a category that now includes reconfiguring terror groups in Syria, Lebanon, Yemen, Iraq, Qatar, and other places) define true victory as “power over death.” For these recalcitrant foes, becoming a “martyr” (a shahid) represents “power over time.” Prima facie, there could be no comparable or greater form of power.
Because “clocks slay time” — a famous observation by American writer William Faulkner — narrowly objective chronologies would prove injurious for Israel. But what should constitute a suitably personalized and policy-centered theory of time for decision-makers in Jerusalem? It’s a demanding but imperative question.
In purposeful reply, history deserves pride of place. By ironic coincidence, the complex notion of temporality as “felt time” or “subjective time” has its origins in ancient Israel. By rejecting time as a linear progression, early Hebrews generally approached the issue as a matter of qualitative experience. Among other things, the associated view identified time as logically inseparable from its personally infused content.
In terms of prospective nuclear threats from adversaries, Israeli planners should consider temporality at the level of individual decision-makers. For example, “What do authoritative enemy leaders think about time in shaping their operational military plans?” For Israeli leaders, there could be no more urgent question.
There is more. From its beginnings, the Jewish prophetic vision was one of an imperiled community living “in time.” Within this formative vision, political geography or “space” was vitally important, but not because of territoriality.
The importance of specific geographic spaces stemmed from certain unique events that had presumably taken place therein. Eventually, a subjective metaphysics of time, a reality based not on equally numbered moments but on “time as lived,” could impact ways in which (1) jihadi enemies choose to confront the Jewish state; and (2) Israeli decision-makers choose to confront these enemies.
In the final analysis, a worst case for Israel would be to face an already nuclear and seemingly irrational enemy state. Any such adversary could reasonably be described as a “suicide bomber in macrocosm.” Simultaneously, Jerusalem could need to deal with a “suicide bomber in microcosm,” i.e., an individual “flesh-and-blood” jihadi terrorist armed with crude or “small” nuclear weapons. In further elaboration, a radiological weapon or radiation dispersal device should come to mind.
What else should Israel know about time? Among Islamists at every level, “martyrdom” is accepted as the most honorable way to soar above clock time or “profane time.” Looked at from a dispassionate perspective, this “heroic suicide” is accepted by jihadists as the optimal way to justify mass murder of “unbelievers.” Ironically, because such alleged self-sacrifice is expected to confer “power over death,” it does not properly qualify as a suicide. In law, it is always an inexcusable homicide.
It’s time for conclusions. From the standpoint of Israel’s most urgent survival concerns, the time-sensitive adversary could be an individual jihadi terrorist, a sovereign enemy state, or both acting together. In the third scenario, the effects of a state-terrorist fusion could be not merely interactive, but also synergistic. This would mean that a “whole” injury inflicted upon Israel would be greater than the sum of its “parts.” The dangers to Israel of any such unprecedented synergy would be most catastrophic if the pertinent enemy state was nuclear or soon-to-be nuclear.
Sometimes, the strategist can learn from the poet. For T.S. Eliot, “all time is unredeemable.” With this unchallengeable insight in mind, an immediate goal for Israel’s defense policy planners should be a fuller awareness of jihadi capabilities and intentions “in time.” Such a deliberately enhanced understanding could ultimately prove crucial to both counterterrorism and nuclear war-avoidance.
Prof. Louis René Beres was educated at Princeton (Ph.D., 1971) and is the author of many books and scholarly articles dealing with international law, nuclear strategy, nuclear war, and terrorism. In Israel, Prof. Beres was Chair of Project Daniel (PM Sharon). His 12th and latest book is Surviving Amid Chaos: Israel’s Nuclear Strategy (Rowman & Littlefield, 2016; 2nd ed., 2018).
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The exceptional actress in the Yiddish film ‘I Have Sinned’
איינער פֿון די פֿילמען וואָס מע ווײַזט די וואָך ווי אַ טייל פֿונעם ניו־יאָרקער ייִדישן קינאָ־פֿעסטיוואַל איז דער פּרעכטיקער ייִדישער פֿילם ,,על חטא“.
דער פֿילם, וואָס איז געמאַכט געוואָרן אין פּוילן אין 1936, איז געווען אַ וויכטיקע דערגרייכונג אין דער געשיכטע פֿון ייִדישן קינאָ. ער איז געווען דער ערשטער ייִדישער פֿילם מיט קלאַנג און דיאַלאָג, און האָט אויך געשילדערט אַ גאָר מאָדערנע טעמע.
איך האָב אַליין געזען דעם פֿילם אויפֿן מעלבורנער „דשיף“ אינטערנאַציאָנאַלן פֿילם־פֿעסטיוואַל אין אָקטאָבער 2025, און ער האָט אויף מיר געמאַכט אַ שטאַרקן אײַנדרוק. עס שילדערט נישט בלויז דאָס ייִדישע לעבן אין שטעטל, די ראָלע פֿון רעליגיע אין טאָג-טעגלעכן לעבן, די מנהגים און די שוועריקייטן פֿון די שטעטל־ייִדן, נאָר אויך ווי פּראָגרעסיוו און בראַוו איז געווען דער אויסבליק פֿון די שרײַבער און אָנטיילנעמער אין ייִדישן טעאַטער און פֿילם אין יענער צײַט.
דער רעזשיסאָר, אַלעקסאַנדער מאַרטען, און די שפּילער האָבן נישט מורא געהאַט אָפֿענערהייט צו באַטראַכטן אַ טעמע וואָס איז דעמאָלט געווען פֿאַרבאָטן. דער פֿילם דערציילט ווי אסתּר, אַ יונגע טאָכטער פֿונעם שטעטל רבֿ, פֿאַרשוואַנגערט מיט אַן אָפֿיציר פֿון אַרמיי. דער פֿילם באַשרײַבט אירע שוועריקייטן און קאָנפֿליקטן אַלס אַ נישט־חתונה געהאַטע, וואָס זי באַשליסט צו טאָן און וואָס געשעט ווײַטער. די באַרימטע קאָמיקער דזשיגאַן און שומאַכער שפּילן דאָ הױפּט־ראָלעס. מיר זײַנען צוגעװוּינט צו זען דזשיגאַן און שומאַכער אין סלעפּסטיק און קאָמישע שטיק. דאָ אָבער זעען מיר אַ טיפֿערן אויסטײַטש אין זייער אויסשפּילונג — קאָמעדיע געמישט מיט דראַמע און איידלקייט.
די הױפּט־ראָלע פֿון אסתּר שפּילט די אויסגעצייכנטע אַקטריסע רחל האָלצער. דאָ באַװײַזט זי מיט האַרץ און געפֿיל, פֿאַרװאָס זי איז געװאָרן אַ װעלט־באַרימטע ייִדישע אַקטריסע. איר אויסטײַטש איז פּרעכטיק און רירנדיק. עס איז װערט קוקן דעם פֿילם פּשוט צו זען און אָנערקענען איר ראָלע.
רחל האָלצער איז געװען אַ הױפּט־שפּילער און רעזשיסאָר אינעם נאַציאָנאַלן פּױלישן טעאַטער, און אויך אין דער װילנער טרופּע. אין „על חטא“ איז זי שוין געווען אין די יונגע דרײַסיקער, נאָר זי שפּילט דאָ סײַ די ראָלע פֿון אסתּר ווי אַ יונג מײדל, סײַ אסתּר ווי אַן עלטערע פֿרױ. אין 1939, דרײַ יאָר נאָך דעם וואָס „על־חטא“ איז אַרױס, איז רחל געװען מיט איר מאַן, דעם באַקאַנטן דראַמאַטורג חיים ראָזענשטיין, אין מעלבורן ווי טייל פֿון אַ װעלט־טור. זײ זײַנען געקומען כּדי צו שטעלן איר סאָלאָ־פּיעסע, װען עס איז אױסגעבראָכן די צװײטע װעלט־מלחמה, און זײ האָבן נישט געקענט זיך אומקערן קײן פּױלן. אַ דאַנק זייער זײַן אין אויסטראַליע זענען זײ געראַטעװעט געוואָרן פֿון דעם חורבן, און זײַנען ביז זייער טױט געבליבן אין מעלבורן.
אין אױסטראַליע איז רחל האָלצער אויפֿגעטראָטן אױף די גרעסטע בינעס מיט גרויסן דערפֿאָלג. אין 1940 האָט זי, צוזאַמען מיט יעקבֿ װײַסליץ, געשאַפֿן דעם „דוד הערמאַן טעאַטער“ אין מעלבורן וואָס איז געבליבן אַקטיוו מער ווי פֿערציק יאָר. זי האָט אױך ווײַטער געשפּילט אין סאָלאָ־פֿאָרשטעלונגען. זעקס טויזנט מענטשן האָבן זי למשל געהערט רעציטירן יעווגעני יעווטאָשענקאָס ליד „באַבי־יאַר“ אינעם מעלבורנער שטאָטזאַל. צווישן זיי: יעווטאָשענקאָ אַליין. די וועלכע האָבן עס געזען און געהערט האָבן געזאָגט אַז עס איז געווען, ווי אַלע אירע פֿאָרשטעלונגען, אומפֿאַרגעסלעך.
איך האָב נישט געקענט רחל האָלצערן ווי אַ יונגע אַטקריסע, און געדענק זי נאָר אַלס אַן עלטערע פֿרױ. אָבער זי האָט קײנמאָל נישט פֿאַרלױרן איר עלעגאַנץ, איר שײנקײט. זי איז געװען די מלכּה פֿון דער ייִדישער טעאַטער און איז געבליבן אַ מלכּה, אַפֿילו אין אירע נײַנציקער, ווען איך האָב זי באַזוכט אין אַ מושבֿ-זקנים.
איך האָב אויך געהאַט אַ פּערזענלעכן שײַכות צו רחל האָלצער. איר מאַן, חיים ראָזענשטיין, איז געװען דער ברודער פֿון מײַן באָבעס מאַן, מאָטל ראָזענשטיין. נישט געקוקט אויף דעם װאָס חיים און מאָטל זײַנען בײדע געשטאָרבן איידער איך בין נאָך געווען אויף דער וועלט, האָב איך געװוּסט אַז זי איז אַ װײַטע קרובֿה, און איך פֿלעג זי זען אינעם ייִדישן קולטור־קלוב אין מעלבורן, „קדימה“, אָדער בײַ מײַנע עלטערן. און אַוודאי אויך אויף דער בינע.
ווען איך בין געווען דרײַצן יאָר אַלט האָב איך געהאַט אַ ספּעציעלע איבערלעבונג מיט איר. מיר זײַנען ביידע געווען אין „קדימה“, אינעם גרױסן זאַל װוּ מע האָט אָפֿט געשפּילט ייִדישן טעאַטער. איך האָב רעציטירט אַ דראַמאַטישע פּאָעמע אויף דער בינע. נאָך דער פֿאָרשטעלונג איז רחל האָלצער צוגעקומען צו מיר, מיך אָנגעכאַפּט בײַ דער האַנט, און מיט אַ שמײכל פֿון נחת געזאָגט: „דו ביסט מײַן משפּחה, דו ביסט מײַן משפּחה!“ אַזאַ כּבֿוד פֿון דער קעניגין פֿון ייִדישן טעאַטער האָב איך נישט דערװאַרט! איך האָב דעמאָלט נישט פֿאַרשטאַנען די גרױסע מתּנה װאָס זי האָט מיר געגעבן מיט די װערטער. איך וועל דאָס קײנמאָל נישט פֿאַרגעסן.
דער גרױסער זאַל און די בינע זענען הײַנט אַן אַלגעמיינער קינאָ־הויז. װען איך האָב אין נאָוועמבער דאָרט געקוקט דעם פֿילם „על חטא“, בין איך געזעסן ממש נאָר אַ פּאָר רײען פֿונעם אָרט, וווּ רחל האָלצער האָט אַמאָל גענומען מײַן האַנט און מיך אַזוי וואַרעם באַגריסט.
פֿאַר די פֿון אײַך וואָס וועלן דעם זונטיק זען „על חטא“ אויפֿן ניו־יאָרקער ייִדישן קינאָ־פֿעסטיוואַל, װעט איר האָבן אַ געלעגנהײט אַליין צו זען רחל האָלצערס וווּנדערלעכן טאַלאַנט ווי אַן אַקטריסע. דאָס אַליין איז ווערט דאָס גאַנצע געלט.
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