A Fortnight of Films

I rarely visit the cinema (or go to the pictures as I call it), but just recently I have seen a plethora of films, all of which I enjoyed, experienced in a different venue and had their own merits.

As part of the UK Jewish Film Festival I saw the droll Blumenthal:

Celebrated playwright, Harold Blumenthal, has passed away after succumbing to cardiac arrest while laughing at his own joke. Now, Harold’s estranged and jealous brother, Saul, must confront his personal hang-ups  to deliver himself from an epic bout of constipation. Meanwhile, Saul’s wife Cheryl and son Ethan must grapple with their own personal obstacles through a set of circumstances so improbably ironic they might as well have been lifted from one of Harold’s plays.

I have also booked for Hava Nagila this week which finishes the festival in true celebratory style with obligatory dancing.

Featuring interviews with Harry Belafonte, Connie Francis, Glen Campbell, Leonard Nimoy, Regina Spektor and more, Hava Nagila (The Movie) follows the song from the shtetls of Eastern Europe to the kibbutzim of Palestine to the cul-de-sacs of America. It excavates the layers of cultural complexity with humor, depth and heart – traveling the distance between the Holocaust to Dick Dale and his surf guitar, sometimes in the same sentence. It stops at key places – Ukraine, Israel, the Catskills and Greenwich Village, where Belafonte performed a hopeful version in the late 1950s, only to be countered by Bob Dylan, who butchers the song in his version Talkin’ Hava Negiliah Blues. The film covers Allan Sherman’s parody Harvey and Sheila, and Lena Horne’s civil rights anthem Now – both set to the tune of Hava Nagila. The film spotlights Italian-American crooner Connie Francis, who made the song the first track on her famous album of Jewish favorites; and Glen Campbell, who released an instrumental version of Hava on the B-side of his theme song from True Grit. It also dissects the proliferation of pop culture references to Hava Nagila in film and TV and brings the song up to the present, where it’s a rallying tune at sports games, a hot dance number in nightclubs and a global hit online.

On a more cultural note, I saw the superb Encore Screening of the National Theatre Live production of Habit of Art with the late Richard Griffiths, Alex Jennings and Frances De La Tour   

Benjamin Britten seeks advice from his former collaborator and friend, W H Auden. During this imagined meeting, their first for twenty-five years, they are observed and interrupted by, amongst others, their future biographer.  Alan Bennett’s play looks at the unsettling desires of two difficult men, and at the ethics of biography.  It reflects on growing old, on creativity and inspiration, and on persisting when all passion’s spent: ultimately, on the habit of art.

If you have not yet sampled these NT screenings, I would recommend them highly at a lot less cost than a theatre ticket.  Go on their website for details.  There is an intermission just as in the theatre, when we eat our sandwiches and cake with our drinks, and an interview with the director or producer.

Last but not least, we saw the wonderful Philomena with marvelous actors Judi Dench and Steve Cougan.  I didn’t know the story beforehand, so I won’t tell it here, unlike some reviews which have revealed all.

Next on my list is not a film but a dramatic production which is being performed in railway stations all over UK.  It’s called Suitcase and commemorates the 75^th anniversary of the arrival of the Kindertransport from Nazi Germany, which is how my aunt arrived aged 11 (see my post http://thirdageblogger.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/goodbye-to-very-special-lady.html for her story).  We also attended the local 75^th Kristallnacht Commemoration where her granddaughter lit a candle and we heard the personal experiences from others who came over in the Kindertransport.

Goodbye to a very special lady.

My auntie Edith passed away last week.  She was a very special lady for all sorts of reasons but I would like to share with you a story about her early years.  I wrote the story from the facts I gleaned from her over the years.

 

Flight from Nazi Germany

At the time I felt forsaken by my parents, yet excited at the prospect of seeing the sea and travelling by boat for the first time at 11 years old.  How could I have known what would come to pass although, with hindsight, all the clues were there?

Life as we knew it changed from the time my uncle from Frankfurt came to live with us after losing his job for being Jewish.  Home was a farm in a small village where we ran a little shop selling sugar, flour and suchlike, which supported my extended family.  From the radio we learnt what was happening further afield and so did the other villagers, who no longer frequented our shop.  The harvest workers, who had previously enjoyed hearty meals in our kitchen, failed to turn up that year.  The other handful of Jewish families moved away from the village after Kristallnacht when the contents of our synagogue were brought out and set on fire.  My younger sister and I were no longer allowed to attend the local school, so we would amuse ourselves on the farm or playing hide and seek among the gravestones in the Jewish and Christian cemeteries which are side by side.

After my father and uncle were taken in for questioning by the Gestapo, the future looked bleak.  The elderly relatives who lived with us could not be moved so my mother contacted the Jewish refugee association to find a family in England to take in my sister and me. 

Two families who lived next door to each other in Leeds agreed to takes us.  Arrangements were made; we were allowed to take a small suitcase between us.  Our mother told us to hide our rings and necklaces from view during the journey and that we should behave ourselves and be helpful to our host families.  We promised her faithfully that we would be good.

At the railway station, we were put in the charge of a couple of older girls.  Our anxiety increased when the relatives on the platform began to wail and sob.  We were too small to look out of the crowded window to wave goodbye, but we never thought it would be forever.  Just as the train started to move, a lady opened the door of the compartment and pushed in a carrycot which contained a baby girl.     

The journey began.  The Gestapo entered the train before it crossed the border but, apart from confiscating a few bracelets and rings from the older girls, left us alone.  At a station in Holland, some women gave us food and drink and then we crossed by boat to England.  It was cold and dark and my first experience of the sea wasn’t a good one.

It has been 74 years since the Kindertransport brought me to England.  My parents were transported to the Camp de Gurs in 1940 and then to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where according to the carefully kept records, they were exterminated in 1942.   I have been fortunate; a wonderful foster family, a long marriage, children and grandchildren.  I felt it was my duty to embrace life and I am sure it was what my parents would have wanted for me.

Very rarely do I fall asleep without thinking about playing with my sister among the gravestones in my village of Teschenmoschel then being welcomed home with open arms by my parents.  I also wonder about the fate of that baby girl whose mother gave her the gift of life.  

Jewish Burial Ground at Teschenmoschel

 Auntie Edith and Uncle Jack