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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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Javier Bardem Slams Trump, Netanyahu for Iran War Before Declaring ‘Free Palestine’ at Academy Awards
Javier Bardem and Priyanka Chopra Jonas on stage during the Oscars show at the 98th Academy Awards in Hollywood, Los Angeles, California, US, March 15, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Mike Blake
Spanish actor Javier Bardem protested the US-Israeli war with Iran while speaking to reporters on the red carpet at the 98th Academy Awards on Sunday night, before taking to the stage at the awards show in Los Angeles and declaring “Free Palestine.”
The Oscar winner, 57, attended the ceremony at the Dolby Theater wearing on his tuxedo lapel a pin that said, “No a la Guerra,” which in Spanish means, “No to War.” He wore the same pin in 2003 to protest the US invasion of Iraq.
The “F1” star has been a vocal critic of Israel’s military actions in the Gaza Strip during the Israel-Hamas war and has publicly voiced support for a “Free Palestine” several times in the past. While speaking to reporters at the Academy Awards, he blasted the US and Israel for their joint strikes against Iran, specifically calling out US President Donald Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
“I’m wearing a pin that I used in 2003 with the Iraq war, which was an illegal war,” Bardem told The Hollywood Reporter on Sunday night on the Oscars red carpet. “And we are here, 23 years after, with another illegal war, created by Trump and Netanyahu with another lie, which is to defeat the regime. But they are radicalizing the regime by their horrific actions. So that’s not the reason, as it was not the reason weapons of mass destruction in 2003.”
Bardem also wore to the Oscars this year a pin in support of Palestinian resistance on his tuxedo lapel. On the pin was a drawing of Handala, a character created by Palestinian newspaper cartoonist Naji al-Ali in 1969. Handala is a 10-year-old Palestinian refugee who is turning his back to the world and has become a long-standing symbol for Palestinians. Bardem said it is a “Palestine symbol of resistance.”
Later on in the evening, while co-presenting the award for best international feature film with actress Priyanka Chopra Jonas, Bardem made more political comments, but this time about “Palestine.” When he walked on stage, the first thing he said was, “No to war. Free Palestine,” before presenting the nominees for the category.
After getting off stage, he told Variety he felt compelled to take about the “injustice” he feels is taking place in the Middle East. “Which in this case is the genocide in Palestine that is still going on … what is going on in the West Bank, the abuse of civil rights and human rights and ethnic cleansing,” he added. “It’s horrible … and then the illegal war [in Iran].”
“They are not defeating any regime, they are radicalizing the regime, bombing innocent people,” Bardem claimed about the US-Israeli joint strikes against Iran.
Before entering the Vanity Fair afterparty, he told USA Today: “We are going back to the same beginning of lying and manipulating us … it’s not about freedom. It’s not about changing any regime. It’s about creating a chaos that only benefits the richest and the people that have the power to control the area.”
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College Republicans Federation Disbands University of Florida Chapter Over Nazi Pictures
An entrance to the University of Florida in Gainesville, Dec. 4, 2020. Photo: USA Today Network via Reuters Connect
The Florida Federation of College Republicans (FFCR) has disbanded its chapter at the University of Florida and asked the school to deactivate it following an investigation which revealed that student leaders photographed themselves pantomiming the Nazi salute.
“This request is based on the FFCR’s findings that some Local CR [College Republicans] members engaged in a pattern of conduct that violated its rules and values, including a recent antisemitic gesture,” the university said in a statement on Saturday. “In compliance with its policies, the University of Florida is in the process of deactivating the Local CR as a registered student organization. When the FFCR is ready, the university will also assist it with reactivating the Local CR under new student leadership.”
Since reports of the action emerged, the UF College Republicans chapter has alleged that the Florida Federation lacks jurisdiction over the organization, insisting that it is registered with the College Republicans of America group. There are several contending “College Republican” groups, including the original College Republican National Committee founded in 1892, College Republicans United, the National Federation of College Republicans (NFCR), and College Republicans.
“They cited the FFFCR, an organization that we are not a part of that has no authority over our chapter [sic],” College Republicans of America said in a statement. “We look forward to the university reinstating our club and correcting this statement. We have retained counsel and have received information that this is not the first time that FFCR has lied to silence Christian conservative groups on campus.”
Regardless of the outcome of the dispute, the incident marks the second time this month that conservative youth were publicly outed for indulging Nazism and the white supremacist movement. Earlier this month, leaked texts revealed dozens of antisemitic and racist texts exchanged by young Republicans in Miami-Dade County, Florida, some of which fantasized about engaging in onanism in an all-white country.
As first reported by The Miami Herald, the group chat, created on WhatsApp, was described by its members as “Nazi heaven” for the daily barrage of extremist comments contributed to it. Individuals affiliated with the Miami-Dade Country Republicans, Turning Point USA, and College Republicans casually said “ni—er,” denounced women as “whores,” and spoke rapturously about Adolf Hitler.
Dariel Gonzalez, according to the Herald, was one of the chat’s most prolific contributors, bandying about comments regarding “color professors” and telling members that “You can f—k all the k—kes you want. Just don’t marry them and procreate.”
The group chat’s exposure comes at a time when, according to recent polling, young Republicans have increasingly embraced antisemitism and conspiracy theories.
As The Algemeiner has previously reported, antisemitism has permeated college campuses across the US for years, even before the recent surge in incidents amid the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza.
In 2022 alone, anti-Zionists at State University of New York (SUNY) New Paltz expelled a sexual assault survivor from a victim support group over her support for Zionism; a former University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) lecturer threatened to commit a mass shooting of Jews on campus, saying in a note to former colleagues that “Violence against Jews should happen. Retaliation and retribution for what they have stolen is legitimate and a good thing”; and students at Indiana University posted messages on a social media forum which lambasted “east coast Jews” as rapists, charging that their “huge noses, afros, and smelliness prevent them from being attractive.”
The Palestinian terrorist group’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel unleashed a historic surge in such outrages on US campuses. College students, joined by faculty, carried out a number of antisemitic incidents and hate crimes — spitting on Jewish students at the University of California, Berkeley while calling them “Jew”; gang assaulting Jewish students at Columbia University’s Butler Library; vandalizing public spaces with swastika graffiti; and chasing Jewish students out of graduate programs by denying them religious accommodations and smearing their reputations.
While much of the anti-Zionist movement on campus has been associated politically with the far left, the far right has recently been involved with a series of antisemitic incidents on campuses,
In October, for example, a conservative student magazine at Harvard University published an essay which bore likeness to key tenets of Nazi doctrine. In January, a sophomore and right-wing social media influencer at the University of Miami verbally attacked a Jewish student group, calling its members disgusting while accusing rabbis of eating infants.
Campus antisemitism has changed the college experience for American Jewish students, affecting how they live, socialize, and perceive themselves as Jews, according to new survey results released by the American Jewish Committee (AJC) in partnership with Hillel International.
A striking 42 percent of Jewish students reported experiencing antisemitism during their time on campus, and of that group, 55 percent said they felt that being Jewish at a campus event threatened their safety. The survey also found that 34 percent of Jewish students avoid being detected as Jews, hiding their Jewish identity due to fear of antisemitism. Meanwhile, 38 percent of Jewish students said they decline to utter pro-Israel viewpoints on campus, including in class, for fear of being targeted by anti-Zionists. The rate of self-censorship is significantly higher for Jewish students who have already been subjected to antisemitism, registering at 68 percent.
“No Jewish student should have to hide their identity out of fear of antisemitism, yet that’s the reality for too many students today,” Hillel International chief executive officer Adam Lehman said in February. “Our work on the ground every day is focused on changing that reality by creating environments where all Jewish students can find welcoming communities and can fully and proudly express their Jewish identities without fear or concern.”
Follow Dion J. Pierre @DionJPierre.
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Amsterdam’s New Warning to Europe on Antisemitism
Anti-Israel protesters clash with police outside Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw, breaking through barricades and setting off smoke bombs during a demonstration against a performance by the IDF’s chief cantor. Photo: Screenshot
Amsterdam likes to present itself as a city of tolerance. It celebrates diversity, prides itself on openness, and often reminds the world of its history as a refuge for those seeking freedom. Yet something deeply troubling happened in Amsterdam last week that should concern not only the Netherlands, but all of Europe:
A municipal debate about antisemitism had to be held at a secret location because of security concerns.
Pause for a moment and consider what that means. In a democratic European capital, a discussion about protecting a Jewish minority could not take place openly for fear of threats and intimidation. If that does not signal a serious problem, what does?
That’s in addition to the bombing of a Jewish school, and another attack that just occurred.
During the meeting, a 15-year old Jewish boy addressed the room. His testimony cut through political rhetoric and statistics with the clarity only a young voice can bring. Since the October 7, 2023, massacre in Israel, he said, life for Jewish students in Amsterdam has changed dramatically. Many of his friends have already left the city. They no longer see a future there.
Imagine hearing those words in 2026 in one of Europe’s most celebrated liberal cities. A teenager speaking calmly about the disappearance of his community.
Amsterdam alderman Melanie van der Horst was visibly moved and struggled to hold back tears. The emotional moment showed that some political leaders understand the gravity of what is happening. Yet empathy alone will not solve the problem.
Another participant in the debate raised a painful but necessary question: How must it feel for Jewish residents to walk daily through public spaces where demonstrations take place in which their country and their people are shouted down? Pro-Palestinian protests have become a constant presence in parts of the city. Political protest is a democratic right, but when rhetoric turns into open hostility toward Jews, society has crossed a dangerous line.
One proposal during the debate illustrated the level of frustration. A politician suggested sending undercover police officers into the streets wearing a kippah in order to identify those who harass Jews. Critics called the idea controversial. But the fact that such a measure is even being discussed reveals how serious the situation has become.
The problem extends beyond the streets. Jewish organizations in the Netherlands increasingly report difficulties renting venues for events. Cultural gatherings and lectures sometimes struggle to find halls willing to host them. It rarely makes headlines, but this quiet exclusion sends a clear message: you are welcome in theory, but not visibly.
History has taught Europe where that kind of atmosphere can lead. Antisemitism rarely begins with violence. It begins with discomfort, social pressure, and the slow normalization of hostility toward Jewish identity.
Meanwhile, another factor fuels the problem. Much of the European media landscape presents Israel through a lens that reduces a complex reality to a simple narrative of aggressor and victim. When context disappears and facts are replaced by slogans, public perception shifts. The hostility directed at Israel easily spills over into hostility toward Jews living thousands of kilometers away.
That is why factual education and responsible journalism matter so much. Civil society organizations that work to counter misinformation often struggle to be heard. Yet without a commitment to truth, public debate becomes an echo chamber for activism rather than a search for understanding.
There is also a question for Jewish communities themselves. When fear grows, the instinct to become less visible is understandable. But invisibility comes at a cost. If intimidation forces people to hide their identity, those spreading hatred learn that their tactics work.
The lesson of Jewish history is painfully clear. Silence has never protected Jewish communities.
Strength does not mean confrontation. It means refusing to surrender identity and dignity to intimidation. It means raising a generation that is proud rather than afraid. It means understanding that resilience is sometimes the only answer to those who seek to erase a people’s presence.
The young boy in Amsterdam asked a simple question without even intending to pose a challenge to Europe: will the Jewish community still exist here in the future?
That question should echo far beyond the walls of the municipal chamber where he spoke. Because if a Jewish teenager in Amsterdam already doubts his future in the city, then Europe is facing not just a Jewish problem.
It is facing a moral test of its own values.