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The real Jewish history behind Netflix’s ‘Transatlantic’ and the WWII rescue mission that inspired it
(JTA) — While the United States swung its door shut to most refugees during World War II, a young American in France saved thousands, including some of the 20th century’s defining artists and thinkers — such as Marc Chagall and Hannah Arendt — from the Nazis.
The rescue mission of Varian Fry, which went largely unrecognized during his life, is the subject of Netflix’s new drama “Transatlantic,” launching Friday from “Unorthodox” creator Anna Winger.
Starring Cory Michael Smith as Fry, the seven-episode “Transatlantic” aims to recreate his operation in Marseille after the Nazis defeated France and before the United States entered the war. Winger has injected several imagined romances, war efforts and characters into the fictionalized series, including one posed as Fry’s lover, named Thomas Lovegrove (played by Israeli Amit Rahav). Although Fry’s son has said that he was a “closeted homosexual,” no such person is known to have existed.
Winger believes these inventions will invite Netflix viewers to learn more about the true story.
“The people who lived through these stories are dying out,” she told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “My job is to bring this to a wide audience, to people who don’t know anything about it.”
The story behind the series
The real Varian Fry, a 32-year-old journalist and suit-clad Harvard graduate, showed up in Marseille with $3,000 taped to his leg and a list of 200 names in August 1940.
After France surrendered to Germany, Fry was among 200 Americans — including journalists, artists, museum curators, university presidents and Jewish refugees — to create the Emergency Rescue Committee at the Hotel Commodore in New York. This group was concerned with Article 19 in France’s armistice with Germany, which required French authorities to surrender any individuals demanded by the Germans.
The private relief organization drew up frenzied lists of anti-Nazi intellectuals who were trapped in France. With the help of first lady Eleanor Roosevelt, the ERC obtained some emergency visas and sent Fry to lead the rescue efforts in Marseille, a port city in the southern, unoccupied part of France.
What he found there was impossible to manage alone. His mission began in his room at the Hotel Splendide, where long lines of refugees waited in the morning before he woke up and at night after he went to bed. They sometimes walked straight into his bedroom without knocking, Fry wrote in a letter to his wife shortly after he arrived.
Gathering a small devoted staff, including Frenchmen, refugees and American expatriates, Fry moved his office to Rue Grignan and later Boulevard Garibaldi. Outside of Marseille he rented the Villa Air-Bel — colorfully recreated in “Transatlantic” — to house eminent writers and eccentric Surrealist artists waiting for visas.
The group developed legal and illegal branches, with the cover organization offering humanitarian relief while a behind-the-scenes operation flouted the law to help refugees escape. Using Marseille’s lively black market, the staff found hiding places, forged documents and bribed officials. Bil Spira, a Jewish Austrian-born cartoonist, forged passports for the ERC. (He was caught and deported to Auschwitz, but survived.) Resistance fighters Hans and Lisa Fittko devised an escape route to Spain, guiding refugees across the Pyrenees mountains on foot.
By the time he was forced out in October 1941, Fry’s shoestring operation had enabled 2,000 Jewish and other anti-Nazi refugees to flee Europe, including such towering artists as Chagall, Max Ernst and Marcel Duchamp, and intellects such as Arendt, Heinrich Mann and André Breton. It has been estimated that 20,000 refugees made contact with the rescue center in Marseille.
Fry’s illegal efforts made him plenty of enemies from his own country, who accused him of interfering with American neutrality in the war. He angered the state department, officials at the American consulate in Marseille and ERC members in New York. In August 1941, he was arrested by Vichy police and sent back to New York.
Fry died in 1967 at the age of 59. Only a few months earlier, he had received the Croix de Chevalier de la Legion d’Honneur, France’s highest decoration of merit — and the only official recognition in his lifetime. In 1994, he became the first American honored by Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust memorial and history authority, as Righteous Among the Nations.
The Emergency Rescue Committee merged with another relief organization and became the International Rescue Committee in 1942. It is still in operation today and currently led by a Jewish CEO, former British politician David Miliband.
What’s in the show, and why some are against it
Some of Fry’s colleagues are fictionalized in “Transatlantic,” including the Jewish Berliner Albert Hirschman (Lucas Englander), who would become an economist in the United States; the Chicago heiress Mary Jayne Gold (Gillian Jacobs); and the Jewish Austro-Hungarian activist Lisa Fittko (Deleila Piasko). American diplomat Hiram Bigham, who gave Fry crucial help and even hid writer Lion Feuchtwanger in his home, is also a character in the show.
Throughout the seven episodes, rescue missions swirl around a series of fictional love affairs. In addition to Fry’s relationship, a triangle unfolds between Hirschman, Gold and the fictional American Consul Graham Patterson. (There is no evidence that Gold romanced either with her comrade or with any American consul in Marseille.) Lisa Fittko has an affair with the fictional character Paul Kandjo, who organizes armed resistance to Vichy.
Gillian Jacobs as heiress Mary Jayne Gold. (Anika Molnar/Netflix)
Several wartime plot points are also invented, including a prison break at Camp de Mille and Gold’s collaboration with British intelligence.
The degree of fictionalization has angered some people close to the real history. Pierre Sauvage, president of the Varian Fry Institute, called the show’s trailer “shocking.” Born in 1944, Sauvage survived the end of the Holocaust in the French village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, although his Jewish parents were turned down by Fry’s overwhelmed committee. He became close friends with some of Fry’s fellow rescuers in their later years, including the late Gold, Hirschman and Fittko.
“Are there any red lines?” he said. “Can one fictionalize at will, with no concern for the reality of the story, for the false impression that people will get — and for the way it affects the private lives of the families of people portrayed?”
Sheila Isenberg, who documented Fry’s operation in her book “A Hero of Our Own,” has described the series as a “travesty.” Thomas Fischer Weiss, a child survivor who attempted Fry’s escape route through the Pyrenees at 5 years old, also said the historical events needed no embellishment.
“I think you should tell it straight,” he told the JTA.
The legacy of the ‘troublemakers’
Sauvage believes that if Fry and his associates were alive today, they would like to be remembered for their convictions.
“These were people who were sort of in your face,” he said. “People who knew clearly what they felt and expressed it. They would often describe themselves as troublemakers. Mary Jayne [Gold] said about Varian that he was an ‘ornery cuss’ — it took orneriness to stick to your guns.”
That orneriness was critical at a time when many Americans were apathetic to the plight of European Jews — a 1938 poll in Fortune magazine found that fewer than 5% believed the United States should raise its immigration quotas for refugees. By the summer of 1941, it was too late to open the doors. The German policy of expelling Jews had changed into extermination.
According to Sauvage, America’s refusal to accept more refugees had something to do with that shift.
“The Nazis could legitimately come to the conclusion that the world wouldn’t do anything about the murders and wouldn’t really care all that much,” he said. “What the Varian Fry mission symbolizes is people who cared.”
Varian Fry with Miriam Davenport in the first offices of the Centre Américain de Secours in Marseille in 1940. Davenport, a friend of Mary Jayne Gold, also worked in the rescue effort but is omitted from “Transatlantic.” (Varian Fry Institute)
After their year in Marseille, the rescuers settled into more ordinary lives. Hirschman became an economist with appointments at Yale, Columbia and Harvard. Lisa Fittko ended up in Chicago, where she worked hard in import-export, translation and clerical jobs to earn money, eventually joining protests against the Vietnam War. Gold divided her time between New York City and a villa on the French Riviera.
They all remembered the rescue mission as their finest hour. Speaking with Sauvage, Gold called that year “the only one in her life that really mattered.”
A refugee story for troubled times
Fry’s rescue mission inspired Julie Orringer to write “The Flight Portfolio,” a 2019 novel that became the basis for “Transatlantic.” Orringer was captivated by the image of a young man arriving in Marseille, idealistic and unprepared for the depth of anguish he would find.
“The task was way too big,” she told the JTA. “He realized quite early on that he was going to ask for help, that he was going to have to turn to others who had deeper experience. And in collecting this group of incredible individuals around him, he assembled a kind of collective mind that really could make a difference under the very difficult circumstances that he faced.”
She believed that Fry left an example for the inexperienced. “If you‘re the kind of person who wants to take action on behalf of refugees, but doesn’t know how to do it, ask for help,” she said.
Winger, a Jewish Massachusetts native who has lived in Berlin for two decades, conceived of making a series about Fry in 2015. Germany saw an influx of more than a million migrants that year, most of them fleeing Syria’s horrific civil war. She optioned Orringer’s book in 2020.
“I thought a lot about the fact that people like us — artists, Jews, both — had to leave Berlin as refugees, but now there were so many people coming to Berlin as refugees,” said Winger.
Then, just as she started filming “Transatlantic” on location in Marseille, a new war broke out in Europe.
“The war in Ukraine started three days into the production and there was a whole other wave of refugees coming to Berlin,” she said. “Suddenly we were making it in another refugee crisis.”
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine hit close to the show, whose cast and crew hail from across the continent. Winger’s cinematographer is married to a Ukrainian woman. In Berlin, she saw thousands of refugees crowding into the central train station, some without shoes, food or plans for shelter.
“I think it gave us all a strong sense of purpose,” said Winger.
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The post The real Jewish history behind Netflix’s ‘Transatlantic’ and the WWII rescue mission that inspired it appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Antisemitic Incidents in Brazil Shot Up 149% Since 2022, New Figures Show
Demonstrators wear keffiyehs during an anti-Israel protest during the second anniversary of the Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel by Hamas from Gaza, in front of the Folha de Sao Paulo newspaper offices, in Sao Paulo, Brazil, Oct. 7, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Amanda Perobelli
Brazil has experienced a major surge in antisemitism following the Palestinian terrorist group Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel, according to newly unveiled research.
The Israelite Confederation of Brazil (CONIB), the country’s main Jewish umbrella organization, on Monday released its annual report on antisemitism for 2025.
StandWithUs Brazil, the Holocaust Memorial of São Paulo, ECOA, and the Holocaust Museum of Curitiba all contributed to the report, which CONIB described as “the most comprehensive ever produced in the country.”
Analysts found 989 antisemitic incidents were registered in the country in 2025, representing a 149 percent explosion from the 397 documented acts of bigotry against Jews in 2022.
Brazil is currently home to an estimated 120,000 Jews, the second largest population in Latin America behind Argentina.
CONIB President Claudio Lottenberg introduced the report by sharing wisdom from his mother-in-law Esther Sztamfater, a Holocaust survivor.
“Esther survived the war as a refugee in the Polish forests for three years. Three years in hiding. Cold, hungry, afraid — and with a lucidity about human nature that I have never seen in any other human being,” Lottenberg said. “Over 25 years, we had hundreds of conversations. Sometimes long. Sometimes just a sentence. But always with the same underlying lesson: The horror doesn’t begin in the gas chambers. It begins before. It begins with the tolerated word, the repeated lie, the stigma that no one questions. And that’s why this report matters.”
Warning that the numbers in the report represent “a snapshot of an environment that’s forming,” Lottenberg described the developing picture as “one that Esther would recognize.” He said that “antisemitism, as Esther taught me, doesn’t announce its arrival. It settles in gradually. In the tolerance of lies. In the indulgence towards aggression. In the silent acceptance of intimidation. And when a minority needs to get used to fear to preserve its community life, the problem is no longer the minority’s. It is democracy’s. It is Brazil’s.”
CONIB’s Secretary Rony Vainzof added that “antisemitism in Brazil has not receded; it has become normalized. Unfortunately, this is the new normal.”
CONIB’s legal director Andrea Vainer emphasized that antisemitism in Brazil “constitutes a crime of racism. And the law that protects us in this regard is Law 7716 of 1989.” He added that Brazil “has a whole constitutional framework to punish racism in general.”
Under Law 7716, those convicted of racial discrimination in hiring can face prison sentences of as much as five years. Individuals who incite racism or other forms of ethnic and religious bigotry face a maximum of three years. However, Brazilians who choose to use mass media in promoting their hateful feelings could spend five years in jail and face a fine.
The report showed that antisemitic incidents peaked last year in June with 138 cases reported. The Brazilian states of São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, and Rio Grande do Sul accounted for 40 percent of all outrages.
In looking at social media-related complaints, researchers found Instagram came in worst with 37.13 percent of online reports. In a survey of Jews conducted for the report, 81.5 percent of respondents named online hate speech as the threat that most worried them for the future.
The survey also showed that 46 percent of Jews had experienced antisemitism in their professional lives and 39.84 percent had concealed or considered concealing their Jewish identity for fear of moral or physical aggression.
Twenty-five percent of Jews surveyed said they experienced antisemitism in the workplace. A minority of Jews said they reported antisemitic incidents they witnessed, with only 32.58 percent saying they informed a Jewish organization or safety group.
The report also found gaps in Holocaust education in Brazil, with a general survey finding only 53 percent able to correctly define the Holocaust and 87.3 percent saying they have never participated in any Holocaust educational activities, including those in school.
Rising antisemitism came amid growing tensions between Israel and Brazil.
In August, Israel announced it was downgrading diplomatic relations with Brazil after Brasília rejected its proposed ambassador.
“[Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva] has now revealed himself as an outspoken antisemite and Hamas supporter by pulling Brazil out of the IHRA, the international body established to fight antisemitism and hatred toward Israel, aligning the country with regimes such as Iran, which openly denies the Holocaust and threatens the existence of the Jewish state,” Israeli Defense Minister Israel posted on social media at the time.
Months earlier, Lula accused the Jewish state of committing genocide and intentionally targeted women and children during its military campaign against Hamas in Gaza.
CONIB denounced Lula for his claims, accusing him of promoting an “antisemitic libel.”
Lula previously compared Israel to Nazi Germany and the war in Gaza to the Holocaust — a comparison described as an example of anti-Jewish hate under the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism.
In May 2024, Lula recalled Brazil’s ambassador from Israel.
In a panel discussion on Monday following the opening remarks presenting the report on antisemitism, CONIB’s Volunteer Director Paula Puppi discouraged people from feeling like they needed to argue on social media, stating that the platforms failed to foster healthy discussions.
“It’s a shallow, polarized environment where there’s no room for debate. And it’s not possible to be profound in a shallow environment,” Puppi said. “And that’s a mistake we make when we try to debate in that environment.”
Puppi urged attendees that “we need to learn how to deal with this environment. And that’s why this monitoring work that CONIB has been doing is so important.”
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Argentina Designates IRGC as Terror Group, Deepening Alignment with US, Israel Amid Iran War
Argentine President Javier Milei speaks at the 12th annual Algemeiner J100 Gala on March 9, 2026, in New York City.
Argentina has officially designated Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) as a terrorist organization, the latest signal of Buenos Aires’ tightening alignment with the US and Israel as tensions across the Middle East continue to rise.
President Javier Milei’s decision, announced on Tuesday, will expand the country’s previous counterterrorism framework to allow sweeping financial sanctions and additional restrictions against Iran’s ruling regime.
The move builds on Argentina’s designation in January to proscribe specifically the IRGC’s Quds Force, the elite unit responsible for directing Tehran’s proxy militias and overseas terrorist operations.
In a statement from his office, Milei announced the latest designation and, citing findings by Argentina’s federal courts, accused some IRGC members of involvement in planning and executing the two deadliest terrorist attacks in the nation’s history.
Argentina has long believed the Iran-backed Lebanese terrorist group Hezbollah was responsible for both the 1992 Israeli Embassy bombing in Buenos Aires that killed 22 people and wounded more than 200, and the 1994 bombing of the Argentine Israelite Mutual Association (AMIA) Jewish community center that left 85 dead and over 300 injured.
“This government is determined to ensure that the Argentine Republic once again aligns itself with Western civilization, while firmly condemning and confronting those who seek to destroy it,” the statement read.
In 2019, marking the 25th anniversary of the AMIA atrocity, Argentina formally designated Hezbollah as a terrorist organization, intensifying its decades-long campaign to bring justice to the victims.
Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Saar on Tuesday praised Milei’s decision as a bold moral stand against Iran’s global terrorist network and a powerful signal of deepening strategic alignment between Jerusalem and Buenos Aires.
“This decision … places Argentina … at the forefront of the free world in the fight against the Iranian regime of terror and its proxies,” the top Israeli diplomat wrote in a post on X.
“With this decision, President Milei — one of the greatest leaders of our generation — has once again demonstrated moral clarity and an unwavering commitment to the values of freedom and the fight against its enemies,” he continued.
I thank the President of Argentina @JMilei for his decision, on the eve of Passover, the Festival of Freedom, to designate Iran’s Revolutionary Guards as a terrorist organization.
This decision follows his designation of Hezbollah and Hamas as terrorist organizations, and places… https://t.co/Y26ZXcimPI
— Gideon Sa’ar | גדעון סער (@gidonsaar) April 1, 2026
Iran lambasted Argentina’s decision, calling it a strategic mistake and violation of international law that will damage bilateral relations. The Iranian media outlet WANA (West Asia News Agency) reported that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs claimed that, through their blacklisting the IRGC, Argentine leaders have “positioned themselves as partners in committed crimes and stand on the wrong side of history, triggering international responsibility for the Argentine government.”
As the ongoing US–Israeli military campaign against Iran continued to dismantle senior leadership within the regime’s security apparatus, newly appointed IRGC chief Ahmad Vahidi took over the force earlier this month after his predecessor, Mohammad Pakpour, was killed in the strikes.
Vahidi faces charges from Argentine authorities over his alleged involvement in the 1994 AMIA bombing.
At that time, Vahidi commanded the Quds Force.
Since taking office over a year ago, Milei has been one of Israel’s most vocal supporters, strengthening bilateral relations to unprecedented levels and in the process breaking with decades of Argentine foreign policy tradition to firmly align with Jerusalem and Washington.
With the outbreak of the war against Iran in late February, Milei has repeatedly voiced strong support for the US-Israeli campaign and offered steadfast political backing even as the Islamist regime continues issuing threats against the country.
Less than a year after the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, Argentina became the first Latin American country to designate the Palestinian Islamist group as a terrorist organization.
Last year, Milei formally launched the Isaac Accords with the aim of strengthening political, economic, and cultural cooperation between the Jewish state and Latin American governments.
The Argentine leader also announced plans to relocate the country’s embassy to Jerusalem next spring, fulfilling a promise made last year, as the two allies continue to strengthen their bilateral ties.
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The stories of Passover and Pittsburgh share a common humanity
At the heart of the Passover story is an act of courage that feels both ancient and urgent.
Before the plagues, before the parting of the Red Sea, a man named Moses made a brave choice. Saved and raised by the Pharaoh’s daughter, he could have looked away from the suffering of others. But instead, Moses recognized his connection to and the humanity of the Israelites, insisting that Pharaoh let his people go.
We often tell the Passover story as one of liberation, and it is. But it is also a story about the risk of crossing divides in society and the tension between extending an open hand or isolating yourself.
That tension is not confined to ancient Egypt: it persists within the Jewish community today. In the wake of the 2018 Pittsburgh synagogue shooting, much of the conversation understandably focused on security, accountability and the urgent need to confront antisemitism directly. The intensity and urgency of that conversation has only increased as Jewish Americans face more hate than ever in our post-Oct. 7 reality. Security and accountability are essential. But on its own, hardening our institutions is not enough. We must also engage in the hard work of educating and building connections across lines of difference.
Hate festers in the absence of relationships across those boundaries, and confronting it requires human connection. When we build compassionate, healthy communities, we begin to heal the persistent societal wounds, such as antisemitism and hatred, that divide us.
In the days and weeks following the attack in Pittsburgh, something remarkable happened: communities that could have remained distant instead drew closer. Muslim neighbors raised money to help cover the cost of funerals and Christian congregations opened their doors, providing the Tree of Life Congregation a safe place for worship services and to gather in community. In those dark days, Pittsburghers, and people from near and far, prayed, cried and raised their voices in song together. They modeled a response to hate rooted in shared humanity.
Passover asks something similar of us. Each year at the Seder table, we are instructed not simply to retell the story but to see ourselves within it, to remember what it felt like to be strangers in a strange land. The Passover Haggadah commands us to welcome the stranger as we were once strangers in the land of Egypt.
The story is a call to action, asking us to recognize the common roots that unite us all. If we are to truly embrace the stranger, then our work must extend beyond our own community and bring people of different backgrounds together to cultivate mutual understanding and learn more about our neighbors. That mandate guides our work at The Tree of Life. We are building a new institution rooted in Pittsburgh with national impact, dedicated to inspiring courageous action and creating compassionate communities. We are bringing people together to engage with one another and to stay connected even when it is hard.
Our programs focus on inquiry, connection, and community engagement, remembering our past and celebrating Jewish tradition and joy. For example, the Holocaust Center of Pittsburgh, one of our core programs, worked closely with Lily Sassani, a local Girl Scout, to develop a Holocaust Education patch, which is now available to all Girl Scouts. The LIGHT Education Initiative, our cornerstone education program, hosts the Eradicate Hate Student Summit, which in 2025 brought together 450 attendees and, with the support of the Grable Foundation and Benedum Foundation, offered $1,000 grants to 34 schools in southwestern Pennsylvania to design and deliver programming on their campuses.
We’re also sharing the story of what happened on Oct. 27, 2018, the history of antisemitism in America and our work to uproot hate in a traveling exhibition visiting communities across the country, beginning in Pittsburgh and next headed to Broward County, Florida, home to Parkland, another community sadly shaped by tragedy. The exhibition offers a peek into what we will be doing in Pittsburgh at the site of the deadliest antisemitic attack in United States history.
Empathy and understanding are powerful antidotes to hate. Developing both is slow, but important. Beloved Squirrel Hill resident Mr. Rogers knew this and exemplified it. He famously responded to racist ideas of his time, not through loud condemnation but by modeling a different way forward. Amid contentious debates over segregated pools, he invited a Black character, Officer Clemmons, to join him in cooling his feet in a small wading pool and sharing a towel. He didn’t argue; he demonstrated.
We are not naive, nor do we think there is a single answer to the challenges and divisions we all face. What we do know, however, is that at the same time that antisemitism has increased exponentially in recent years, divides are deepening and isolation is rising. Pew Research suggests that approximately eight in ten Americans say they cannot even trust people of different political opinions to agree on basic facts.
When antisemitism is rising and trust is waning, the instinct is often to pull back; to ignore the forces of good at work and hide behind walls. Imagine if Moses had remained in Midian, continuing his exile. Ours would be a very different story.
Instead, Moses stepped out in faith and sought community. For the truth is, liberation is not only about moving past a place of discomfort, grief and hardship. It is about what we choose to build afterward and who we bring along the way. Only by recognizing our common humanity and building bridges across lines of difference can we bring about the better future that the youngest people seated at our Seder tables deserve.
The post The stories of Passover and Pittsburgh share a common humanity appeared first on The Forward.