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Documentary explores the ‘Talmudic’ relationship between writer Robert Caro and his famous longtime editor
(New York Jewish Week) — Bob Gottlieb, who as editor-in-chief of Simon & Schuster, Alfred A. Knopf and The New Yorker ushered into print some of the 20th-century’s most accomplished writers — Nora Ephron, Toni Morrison, Salman Rushdie, John Cheever and Ray Bradbury, to name a few — believes editing is a service job, one that should go unnoticed by the reader.
And yet, it is the relationship between editor and writer that his daughter Lizzie Gottlieb, a documentary filmmaker, explores in her latest film, “Turn Every Page: The Adventures of Robert Caro and Robert Gottlieb,” which premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in 2022 and is now screening at theaters across the country.
Lizzie’s documentary sets out to explore the sometimes tense but ultimately caring relationship between her father, Bob, and one of his longest running authors, Robert Caro, who over the course of 50 years has produced “only” five major books: “The Power Broker,” a classic biography of urban planner Robert Moses, and four volumes of “The Years of Lyndon B. Johnson.”
Jews born and raised in Manhattan, Caro and Gottlieb have worked together since Gottlieb helped cut 350,000 words out of the first draft of “The Power Broker,” bringing it down to a book that ultimately ran 1,338 pages when it was published in 1974.
The thing they squabble over most often? Semicolons, still. Or, maybe, Caro’s overuse of the word “looms.”
The film, seven years in the making, takes on the ways Moses shaped New York City, the mysteries of LBJ’s political power, the sausage-making of bestselling books and the idiosyncrasies of two workaholics. It is also a story of two now elderly men — Caro is 87, Gottlieb is 91 — in what Bob Gottlieb calls an “actuarial” contest to finish Caro’s highly anticipated fifth volume of his Johnson biography.
“My dad and I are very close. We’re in constant contact with each other. If something funny happens, I call my dad. If something sad or confusing happens, I’ll call him. We’re just in each other’s lives all the time, so I didn’t feel that there was a secret I needed to uncover or something unexamined in our relationship,” said director Lizzie Gottlieb, who also teaches documentary filmmaking at the New York Film Academy.
“But the one thing I really knew nothing about in his life was his relationship with Bob Caro,” she said. “Because it was so different from anything else, and it was so kind of private. So really, the whole movie is the process of me understanding something that I didn’t understand before.”
The New York Jewish Week recently caught up with Gottlieb to talk about the making of the film, what it was like growing up in a high-profile family and how Jewishness impacts the work of the two men.
This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
Lizzie Gottlieb is a documentary filmmaker who previously directed “Today’s Man” (2008) and “Romeo Romeo” (2012).
New York Jewish Week: You’ve been working on this movie for seven years. When did you realize you needed to make this movie and how did it get from start to finish?
For a long time, people would say to me, “You should make a film about your father.” I have an incredible father. He’s done a lot of great things. He’s interesting and funny. But I just thought, a film whose message is “look how great my dad is” is not a movie that anybody wants to see.
And then my father was given some award and Bob Caro was presenting the award. Bob Caro gave a speech about working with my dad over what was then 45 years. He talked about how he needs him, and he respects him and how they’re so productive. Then he started talking about their arguments. Somebody in the audience asked what they fought about and he said, “We have very different feelings about the semicolon.” Everybody erupted into laughs and it just hit me like a bolt of lightning. I thought, “This is the movie, this is the story.”
I wanted a story that had forward momentum and had something big at stake. A film about two men in their 60s who had done a lot of great stuff is not that interesting. But a film about two men who are hovering around 90 and are still in it, and engaged in their work, who have a dedication and passion and are in a race against time to finish their life’s work, felt really, really compelling to me.
People say, “Are you sure you should be wasting [Caro’s] time with a movie? He needs to be writing.” My producer Jen Small said we should put on the poster, “No Lyndon Johnson books were harmed in the making of this film.”
Do you think you had a perspective that made you the best person to try and talk about their relationship and document it, or was it challenging to make the leap of them being willing to open up to you?
There was definitely a pursuit of them. I called my father and I was like, “I have the best idea ever. I’m going to make a film about you and Robert Caro.” He said, “No way. Absolutely not. Never. It would not be good for our relationship.”
I just kept pestering and pestering and pestering him. Finally, he said I could call Bob Caro but he would say no and of course Bob Caro did initially say no. Then he said that he’d seen another film of mine and I could come and speak to him. Eventually, Caro said, “I’ve never seen a film about a writer and an editor, and I think this could be meaningful. I don’t think anyone’s ever seen this before.” So he let me start, but he had this kind of hilarious condition, which was that he didn’t want to ever appear in the same room as my father. That seemed funny and a little maddening and sort of endearing. It also seemed like an irresistible challenge to try to make a buddy film where they don’t appear in the same room as each other. A woman came to a screening recently and she said, “It’s a love story, and they don’t get together until the last scene.”
They both say that somehow the making of this movie has brought them closer together and that they have developed a real friendship after 50 years. Maybe just having to articulate what their relationship has meant to each other has made them appreciate it more.
What was it like to grow up in your household, with your father as this major editor and your mother (actress Maria Tucci) on Broadway?
I grew up in a really incredible household. My mother’s an actress, my father’s a publisher and editor. Our house was this kind of vibrant, boisterous household that was always filled with eccentric, incredible people — actors and writers. My dad’s writers would come for dinner and then my mother would go off and do a play on Broadway and then come back at midnight and make another dinner. It was incredible. So I feel that both of their work was kind of integrated into our life and into our family. All of his writers were really like family members, except for Bob Caro, who never came over and who I never met. I think that there’s something particular and peculiar about their relationship that they needed to stay apart and only come together over work. I guess that was something that intrigued me and that’s part of why I wanted to make the movie.
“Turn Every Page: The Adventures of Robert Caro and Robert Gottlieb” (Courtesy Tribeca Film Festival)
The Jewishness in the film is a bit more implicit, though you discuss it when talking about their upbringings. How do you think their Jewish identities have impacted their work?
I don’t want to presume to speak for either of them about their Jewishness. I know they both very strongly identify as New York Jews, which probably means something slightly different to each of them, but I think it’s essential to their definitions of themselves. Their humor may be particularly Jewish as well. David Remnick uses a word at the end of the movie, where he says Caro needs to have “sitzfleisch” in order to finish the book. It’s this Yiddish [and German] word that means the ability to sit for long, long periods of time and apply yourself to something. I think that that is something that these two guys have: It’s almost a Talmudic focus on their craft, and without that they wouldn’t be who they are. So to the extent that that’s a Jewish quality, I think that’s essential to their being, to their achievements. There’s something like a Talmudic scholar in going over all these things, the industriousness and the empathy as well, this sort of looking at a thing from all sides and dedicating yourself to this pursuit.
Bonus question: You briefly show the various eccentric collections your dad has, including plastic handbags and kitschy Israeli record albums from the ’60s and ’70s. What is that about?
Yes, he has a lot of collections. He also has a collection of macramé owls. There are many that are not in the movie. Maybe that’s a Talmudic thing as well, like a deep dive into whatever it is that is interesting to him. He says that every subject gets more interesting the deeper you get into it. When something strikes him as charming or funny or curious, he goes all the way with it. My mother doesn’t love them. There’s a little bit of a power struggle there, but he wins. You grow up with something and you don’t really think about it. But I knew I had to find a way to put this in the movie. People kept saying it’s irrelevant, it’s to the side, but I knew I had to because it’s so weird and says so much about him.
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His son is due to be released from Gaza imminently. Ilan Dalal is grateful — and not just to Trump.
(JTA) — Hours before Monday’s expected hostage handover, Tal Shoham, who spent more than 500 days in Hamas captivity, and Ilan Dalal, father of hostage Guy Gilboa-Dalal — with whom Shoham was held — expressed gratitude to both President Donald Trump and, in a rare moment for hostage families, to the Israeli government.
“Thanks to President Trump for making the impossible possible,” Shoham said, alongside Gilboa-Dalal on a Zoom call with reporters.
Shoham said he was “allowing himself to hope” for the release of his fellow captives on Monday, but was also trying to block those feelings, “so I won’t break if it does not happen.”
He added his regret about not being invited to meet Trump. “I wanted to shake his hand and thank him — not only for this deal but for the deal that released me.”
Shoham was abducted from Kibbutz Beeri on Oct. 7 with his wife, two young children and other relatives. The women and children were freed in November 2023, and he was released in February this year.
Meanwhile, Ilan Dalal, whose son was taken hostage by Hamas terrorists from the Nova festival, said the first thing he would do when he encounters Guy after his release was “hug him, smell him and tell him that the nightmare is over.”
But he went on to say that didn’t know “what kind of son I’m going to get back,” citing the last video released of his son, in which he saw “despair in his eyes.”
“We saw him not the way we knew him. We know Guy as he was two years ago, but after he went through two years of suffering, of starvation, of humiliation, both physical and mental abuse, we don’t know how these things are going to affect him,” Dalal said. “I hope that he will not be so harmed that he cannot rebuild his life.”
Shoham spoke at length of his captivity saying that he was “intentionally starved … for sadistic psychological warfare” receiving between 200 and 300 calories a day to share with fellow hostages Guy and Evyatar David — also set to be released on Monday — first, “to make us suffer,” and second “to pressure Israeli society.”
He went on to say that his Hamas captors boasted about stealing humanitarian aid.
“I saw with my own eyes that they stole boxes and boxes and boxes of humanitarian aid from Egypt, from Turkey, from the Emirates, but they didn’t agree to give us any of this food in the tunnels,” he said.
But after the February release of Eli Sharabi, Or Levy and Ohad Ben Ami, all of whom were severely malnourished, his captors began giving “much, much more food,” he said, adding that it was dangerous because they were suffering from malnutrition. “It could have killed us.”
Shoham said his time in captivity included “a lot of torture and cruelty.” Asked to describe one of the worst moments, Shoham declined, saying “disconnecting from the experience” helped him keep on fighting.
“I don’t want to go there,” he added.
Citing unnamed sources, Israel’s Channel 12 News on Sunday evening said the government has assessed that some of the living hostages set to be freed on Monday have undergone torture.
The Red Cross reported that it had seen some of the hostages and found some in serious condition, according to Israeli journalist Ronen Bergman.
Shoham described his captors as “so brainwashed and full of hate” but for some of them, it didn’t stem from religious motives.
“Some of them [were] religious, but some were only there because this is the popular thing to do. They can take all sadistic thoughts and actions not just against Israelis but also Gazans.” He recounted one incident he had witnessed, in which a Hamas operative shot a Gazan man in the knees because he “looked suspicious,” and later, when the injured man was being attended to by an ambulance, he was executed outright because “they decided that he should die.”
There were moments of humanity, he said — noting that Islam has rules for how to treat captives — but they were “very rare,” and cited instances in which his captors brought him smuggled food and a message from his wife.
He went on to say that most of them were “not soldiers.”
“One of the guards was a first-grade teacher, another was a lecturer at a university, and another was a doctor. These are normal people becoming terrorists,” he said.
Captivity, Shoham said, “forced me to go inward.”
“Only a few people mattered to me — my family and a few close friends,” he said, adding that hearing of his wife and children’s release on the 50th day of their captivity was “tremendous” in helping him get through his ordeal.
The experience also intensified his faith. “I have a lot of gratitude for life. My faith in humanity and in God only increased. It is much more spiritual and religious than before.”
He credited the state with steady support once he came home. “I felt a lot of support from the government — I have a psychologist, financial support — anything that I needed was taken care of. I personally felt a lot of gratitude to my country in these days.”
Asked if he felt any misgivings towards the government for not securing a deal earlier, Ilan Dalal also struck a conciliatory tone.
“Of course we would have wanted it to be much earlier,” he said. “But the Israeli government also needs to think about the security of Israel. Probably there were a series of processes that needed to be completed before we got to this point.”
He described the psychological toll he and his family had suffered over the past two years. “Sometimes I woke up in great despair,” he said. “Sometimes I had no strength to get out of bed. But then I remembered my son in the tunnels. That he’s counting on us to be his voice. We didn’t have the option to break down.”
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How Abe Kugielsky’s photos of Hasidic Brooklyn ended up on display in Grand Central Terminal
(JTA) — When Abe Kugielsky first began photographing the Hasidic Jewish community in Borough Park, Brooklyn, in 2010, he was an outsider with a camera, met with resistance from a community unaccustomed to being documented.
But by 2017, he had amassed a bank of roughly 50,000 photographs, and decided it was time to start posting his images to an Instagram account he called “Hasidim In USA.”
Today, his account has drawn 80,000 followers curious for a glimpse inside a traditionally private world. And this month, it has also landed him a place in Humans of New York’s “Dear New York” exhibition in Grand Central’s Vanderbilt Hall. The free exhibition, curated by Brandon Stanton of the online photo sensation Humans of New York and including dozens of local photographers, runs until Oct. 19.
By day, Kugielsky, who is 45 and identifies as Modern Orthodox, runs a Judaica antique auction house in Cedarhurst, Long Island. But his photography, and efforts to gain inroads in the Hasidic community, have become his true passion.
“Judaica is my full-time job, but I will close shop whenever I feel like I need a day off to go,” said Kugielsky. “It’s very therapeutic to me when I go out to shoot, I’m in my own little bubble, my own zone.”
This interview was condensed and lightly edited for clarity.
JTA: What first drew you to photographing the Hasidic communities in New York?
Kugielsky: When I moved to Brooklyn after we got married, my wife had a job in Borough Park. I would drive her to work every day. I had started street photography as a hobby back in Israel a little bit, and then got married and I let go of it. But when I started visiting Borough Park every morning, and I was getting that Roman Vishniac vibe by seeing the scenes, and I figured, I’ll pick up a camera and start documenting something that’s been untouched in New York.
It’s been very popular in Israel. There’s so many photography books on Orthodox life in Jerusalem, but there’s nothing about Hasidic life in America. There’s one book from like 1974, a small book with some photos, but that’s about it. It’s really very little. So I felt like it was an untouched niche, and I picked up a camera and I started photographing.
How do you build trust with your subjects in a community that is often described as insular?
To see someone walking on Borough Park with a camera taking pictures is not common. It’s not Mea Shearim [the Jerusalem neighborhood] where we have tourists and Americans and photographers. This is very uncommon, so there was a lot of fear of resistance, and of course, the resistance came. So it started off really more in hiding from distance, and over time, I built trust in the community to a point where they celebrate me.
I made it my goal to post in a very positive light, either a positive caption or a positive scene or a positive story, to show them I’m not here to bring out what everyone else has been doing. I realized over the years that it’s really rooted a lot in generational trauma, where, whenever media came into Borough Park or Williamsburg, it was always for a negative story, and that’s where the resistance really came from. So over time, when they recognized that my work is not with that goal, they started to appreciate it more and more.
Can you tell me more about the response from the Hasidic community to your work?
I started off with an article in a local Yiddish magazine, and then a couple of months later, another article and I came out publicly with my name, my identity, so people started recognizing me more. And over time, I started getting more and more positive feedback.
I remember a woman in Williamsburg stopped me once, and she said, “I want to tell you that your photos made me fall in love again with my own culture.” So it really had a certain impact on the community, recognizing that these photos tell a positive story. It tells the story of the community that no one else does in a positive light.
It really shifted to the point where, if I walk down Williamsburg, people stop me and ask me for a selfie, and people will DM me and say, ‘Hey, there’s an event going on here, please come down and photograph.” My goal was to go in deeper and deeper, more and more intimate, and I’ve gotten there. Especially this past summer, we had some invites into family life, which is a whole new level that I’ve been really trying to get to.
What kinds of reactions from the public to your work have surprised or challenged you?
Of course, I get a lot of antisemitic comments from time to time with DMs. Anyone who posts anything Jewish nowadays gets them, but I’ve had a lot of interesting positive feedback from non-Jews worldwide. I’ve had people in Iran reach out to me, and I’ve heard from people in Middle Eastern countries, in Germany, Poland. I think they love the concept where they can look into another culture, have a window into another culture, something they don’t get to see.
Do you have a favorite image from the exhibit, and what makes it stand out to you?
I have one great image that I really, really love. This was a silver shop in Borough Park I walked into and I asked the owner, an older Hasidic Jew, if I can photograph him, and his response is, “What do I need it for?”
I have an album on my phone with photos I downloaded from Brooklyn Public Library, old images from Williamsburg taken by a photographer in 1964, and I figured, let me show him what it looks like looking back at photos from 50 years ago. I started showing him on my phone. He was scrolling through the photos, and I said, look how beautiful it is to look at pictures from 50 years ago.
But then he froze on a certain picture, and his demeanor changes, and he goes, “This is my wife.” He found a picture of his wife and his first newborn son from 50 years ago in those photos, so I captured that moment where he’s really reminiscing about those years.
Humans of New York has drawn criticism for a series focused on aid workers in Gaza as well as for featuring a member of Neturei Karta, a small anti-Zionist sect of the Orthodox community. Was that something you thought about before deciding to participate?
I was tagged when he posted his request for people to submit. I didn’t follow him, it’s just not really my style of work, he’s more storytelling. I went into his page, and I saw all these posts, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
The vibe that I got was I didn’t feel an antisemitism there. I felt like he was more going with the trend, showcasing Palestinians from Gaza or Neturei Karta, more from a place of ignorance.
I believe a lot of New Yorkers, a lot of Americans, a lot of people worldwide, don’t really know and understand the conflict. It’s just in style now to hate, and it’s in style now to side with one side or the other without really understanding.
I didn’t give it a lot of hope when I submitted my photos, and I was actually surprised that he chose my photos to be included, and throughout my conversations with him, I understood that he really doesn’t understand much of the conflict.
Have you received any critical feedback about your involvement in this project?
Very, very little. I think one or two people commented like, why would you do this? But for me, A, It’s an opportunity for me, for my work, to showcase my work out there more, and, B, I thought it was so important to have a representation of Jewish life, or Hasidic life, Orthodox life, in such an important exhibition.
What are you hoping people take away when they encounter your Grand Central exhibit?
What I’m expecting people to take away is really to see the humanistic side of this culture. People could be living literally a block away from the community, and not really know the community, and not understand them.
I’m hoping that this gives them a little bit more of a humanistic view of the Hasidic community, where they live, their life, their culture, their religion. After all, we’re all human, we all coexist in the same city.
The post How Abe Kugielsky’s photos of Hasidic Brooklyn ended up on display in Grand Central Terminal appeared first on The Forward.
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‘An Evening of Tears’: Israeli Hostages, Bereaved Relatives Voice Mixed Emotions Ahead of Release Deal
Israeli President Isaac Herzog speaks as he visits a site next to “Hostages Square” amid a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in Gaza and ahead of the expected return of hostages held in Gaza, in Tel Aviv, Israel, Oct. 12, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Stoyan Nenov
The families of Israeli hostages, fallen soldiers, and terror victims voiced their feelings Sunday night about the pending hostage release from Gaza, on what Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu described as “an evening of tears and happiness.”
Ilan Dalal, the father of hostage Guy Gilboa-Dalal, said he hoped to hug his son and “tell him that the nightmare is over.” But he also said he didn’t know “what kind of son I’m going to get back.” In the last video released of Guy by the Palestinian terrorist group Hamas, Dalal said he saw “despair in his eyes,” adding his hope that he would be able to “rebuild his life.”
Dalal spoke alongside former hostage Tal Shoham on a Zoom call with members of the press. Dalal’s son was held in the tunnels in Gaza along with Shoham, Omer Wenkert — who has since been released — and Evyatar David, who is set for release on Monday.
Shoham thanked US President Donald Trump for “making the impossible possible” and said he wished he could shake the president’s hand “not only for this deal but for the deal that released me.”
Trump departed for Israel and Egypt on Sunday to celebrate the US-brokered ceasefire and hostage-release deal between Israel and Hamas to halt fighting in Gaza. The war began with Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, invasion of and massacre across southern Israel, during which Palestinian terrorists from Gaza murdered 1,200 people and kidnapped 251 hostages.
In his remarks Sunday evening, Netanyahu called the impending releases “a historic event, which some did not believe would ever happen,” and urged Israelis to set aside their differences.
“With joint strength, we achieved spectacular victories,” he said, while warning that the military campaign was not over. “There are still major security challenges ahead of us. Some of our enemies are trying to recover in order to attack us again but we are on this.”
Not everyone supported the deal, which would see around 2,000 Palestinian prisoners released in exchange for the remaining 48 hostages, 20 of whom are believed to be alive.
Brenda Lemkus, whose daughter Dalia was murdered in a 2014 stabbing attack in the West Bank, joined other bereaved relatives from the Choosing Life group — which opposes prisoner releases — in condemning the decision to release her daughter’s killer.
“Releasing him invites the next murder immediately,” Lemkus said. “The blood of those murdered is on the ministers who voted for this.” She called on Israel to institute the death penalty for terrorists.
Michael Nurzhitz, brother of reservist Vadim Nurzhitz, said that while he was happy for the hostages and their families, releasing Raed Sheikh — the terrorist and Palestinian police officer responsible for his brother’s murder — was “unfathomable,” especially ahead of the 25th anniversary of the incident.
Vadim Nurzhitz and fellow Israel Defense Forces (IDF) reservist Yossi Avrahami were lynched in Ramallah on Oct. 12, 2000, after accidentally entering the city and being taken into custody at a Palestinian police station.
“If they release the murderer, the terrorist will return to terror, just like those released in the Shalit deal — they will return to murder us,” Nurzhitz said, referring to the 2011 exchange that freed Gilad Shalit in return for more than 1,000 Palestinian prisoners, including Yahya Sinwar, who later masterminded Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, invasion of and massacre across southern Israel.
Choosing Life petitioned the High Court against the move, saying “the blood of our children has turned into a tradable commodity.”
Eliya Atias, whose son Eden was stabbed to death while he was sleeping in 2013, said the release of his son’s murderer was a sacrifice she “felt good” about making if it meant freeing the hostages.
“I am a believing Jew who believes that the Creator will pay him back,” she said. “I feel that thanks to my act, I am saving the lives of my brothers in Gaza.”
Emotions were also mixed at a Sukkot event attended by 2,000 bereaved Israelis, organized by OneFamily, which supports victims of terror and their families.
Hagit Rosenzweig, whose son, Staff Sgt. Eitan Rosenzweig, was killed in Jabalia in north Gaza early in the war, called it a “very complex day.”
“We are very happy that the hostages are returning, and that families are being reunited. But our son isn’t ever coming home,” she said.
Meir Hershkowitz, whose son Netanel was also killed in Jabalia in October 2024, said he was “thrilled for the families” but urged Israelis not to forget those who were killed.
Both Rosenzweig and Hershkowitz said they found solace in being with others who shared their loss. “Especially during the holidays when the absence is most deeply felt. Being here with other families who understand the same pain is powerful,” Hershkowitz said.
On the Zoom call, Dalal described the rollercoaster of the past two years, noting many moments of “great despair,” but said he reminded himself that his son was “counting on him to be his voice” from inside the tunnels of Gaza.
“We didn’t have the option to break down,” he said.
Shoham said he endured “torture, cruelty, and starvation” during his captivity. Hamas withheld food as “sadistic psychological warfare,” keeping them on “200 or 300 calories a day” — first “to make us suffer,” and second “to pressure Israeli society,” he said. He described seeing “boxes and boxes and boxes” of aid diverted by captors who bragged of having supplies “for months ahead,” while refusing to share it with hostages in the tunnels.
Shoham distinguished between Hamas and the people around them, while conceding, bleakly, how porous that boundary had become. “I know that there are people who support Hamas — I don’t know if it’s all of them but a lot of them are part of Hamas and are disguised as civilians.”
His guards, he noted, had ordinary jobs. “One was a first-grade teacher, another was a lecturer at a university, and another was a doctor. These are normal people becoming terrorists.”
Shoham also described the mindset that helped him survive.
“I consider myself a spiritual person on a spiritual journey. I believe human life has a purpose,” he said. “During captivity, I tried to do everything in my power to honor my life, no matter what they would do to me. We’re not responsible for the terrible things our enemies will do — or even for any deals that are made. Our only mission is to become better each day and to cleanse ourselves from the cruelty and hell we went through.”