Several years ago, in order to teach my children about the Talmudic debate between Rabbis Hillel and Shammai over the order of the Chanukah candles and the proper way to light them, I took two separate Chanukiyot and decided to honour each rabbi that participated in the discussion.
Chanukah 5770
According to Reb Shammai, when lighting the menorah, one should begin with the days remaining in the holiday and ignite with maximum potential. On the other side of the argument, Reb Hillel declared that one should always begin with the days completed and ignite instead with realized potential. Thus it was deemed that the House of Shammai would begin with eight lights on the first night and count downward over the week while the House of Hillel would begin the holiday with a single candle on the first night and increase. There are Talmudic proof texts given for both theses; Shammai had some archaic ramblings about sacrificing bulls on Succot. But Hillel's general rule that we should always increase in matters of holiness rather than diminish ultimately won out. (The Talmud actually mentions a vote taken on the debate.) And so today, we Jews light our Chanukiyot as Rabbi Hillel dictated.
I have given some serious thought to this famous Talmudic argument. We Jews may not follow the teachings of the minority opinions but we give them great weight and we do not pretend that they don't exist. These opinions are still found written in the tractates of the Talmud right alongside the majority. (I like to think of them as the RBG decisions.) The dissents matter because they inform our practice and we can look to them with fresh eyes given whatever the period we live in and the societal norms that govern us.
So, even though it is considered halachically correct to light our Chanukah candles in a Hillelian manner, I wondered if Shammai's method might hold some weight today. What if we, alongside our regular practice, added some informed new ritual that gave credence to the teaching of the other side?
We tend to believe that snuffing out a flame is negative. A fire is often synonymous with love, creativity, holiness, or blessing. Extinguishing that beauty is unthinkable. But, what if a fire isn't a good thing? What if, instead of contributing to all that we wish to celebrate, the flame is instead a destructive force? Fire can be deadly and it has the potential to destroy. Wouldn't we want to extinguish that which tears us down? Wouldn't Rabbi Shammai's observance then take on a different, yet still, dare I suggest, holy philosophy, for our celebration of the holiday?
And so, I offer an updated Chanukah practice. I am returning to my custom of lighting two separate Chanukiyot on each night of Chanukah this year; one for Rabbi Hillel and the hope of increasing the holiness in our lives, and one for Rabbi Shammai and the hope of eradicating the destructive forces that poison our world. Here is my rubric.
On Day 1: We light all eight candles for the wholeness that we wish and hope the world to be.
On Day 2: We extinguish the candle of racial, sexual, or religious intolerance.
On Day 3: We extinguish the candle of xenophobia.
On Day 4: We extinguish the candle of environmental destruction.
On Day 5: We extinguish the candle of the acceptance of poverty.
On Day 6: We extinguish the candle our own arrogance and narcissism.
On Day 7: We extinguish the candle of our indifference.
On Day 8: We extinguish the candle of willful ignorance.
May the coming days bring light to the darkness and may we extinguish the fires of apathy. May all who celebrate, look to both Hillel and Shammai for inspiration and may we all find peace.
The decade is coming to a merciful end and believe it or not, that means people have a deep-seated compulsion to create lists.
I marvel at these best of/worst of lists mostly because I honestly can't remember a single movie or television show that I watched back in 2010 that would provide any relevancy to anybody today. I can't even remember what I watched last week so why would I pretend to find hidden understanding and share some perceptive insight into what I thought about The Leftovers, Fleabag, or Killing Eve, shows I watched several years ago but can't recall enough details about to make a list worthwhile. So, an end of decade list of TV shows or movies was dismissed by me out of hand.
I did, however, give some thought to the best of Toronto sports experiences of this past decade. There are several reasons for my compiling this list.
1. Toronto is traditionally a really sucky place to be a sports fan. We spend more time than almost any other city in North America yelling "Wait until next year", and frankly it gets old fast. But, this decade has been different and offered not just hope, but extended periods of actual ebullience. I felt it was time, as a long-suffering Toronto sports fan, to offer up some real remembrance of the thrill of victory rather than of the agony of defeat.
2. Sports bring people of all types together in a common pursuit. Over the last ten years, Toronto has seen the rise of collective cheering locales like Maple Leaf Square and Jurassic Park; places where dedicated and devoted fans can come together and cheer or commiserate with total strangers. Even regular-season games have become community events like no other, and they have brought a diverse city together for something tremendously positive.
3. There has been so much shit in these teen years of the twenty-first century that a bit of reliving the good and exciting can't be a bad thing.
And so, without further delay, I offer up Toronto's Best Sporting Moments of the Past Decade.
10. The Toronto Raptors hire Masai Ujiri (2014) I should say they re-hired him as he had previously been employed by the team as a backroom employee but after a stint with the Denver Nuggets, the Raptors brought him back to be their general manager and now president. His steady hand and clever signings and trades have made the Raptors....well....we will get to that soon. Basketball has become a city-wide phenomenon in a traditional hockey town and most of that is due to Ujiri, his youth outreach, involvement with the community, and basketball acumen. Suffice it to say, that without Ujiri, 2019 doesn't happen for the purple dinos.
9. The Toronto Maple Leafs hire Brendan Shanahan (2014) It was almost as if MLSE had an epiphany in 2014 and realized that losing really does suck so let's bring on the experts to run the joint. Hall of Famer Shanahan finally returned home to run a miserable Leafs team that was going nowhere under Brian Burke. He had a plan, a Shanaplan, to lift the Buds out of obscurity and return them to prominence. He re-engaged with the fans, the alumni, and the city. He finally retired the appropriate sweaters and brought back the history. He spoke straight to the fans when he promised pain before glory and the city has, for the most part, bought into it. No Cups yet but a little luck of the Irish didn't hurt him when he won the draft lottery and was able to select...
8. The Toronto Maple Leafs select Auston Matthews (2016) In the history of the draft, the Leafs had only one other first overall pick, Wendell Clark. The ability to select a powerful centre and goal-scoring savant has accelerated the Shanaplan by several years. The Leafs made the playoffs in Matthews' rookie season and the city went wild. He isn't there yet, but the man can flat out play and his presence, along with those of the flying kids Mitchell Marner, William Nylander, and goalie Frederic Andersen have made the Leafs contenders. Their defence is still suspect and they take too many periods off, but these kids can play. It also didn't hurt that the growth of the younguns led to...
7. The Toronto Maple Leafs sign free agent John Tavares (2018) It is very rare that a player of Tavares' calibre becomes a free agent in the prime of their career. It is even rarer that a Toronto boy wants to come home and play for the Leafs, so when Tavares signed in the summer of 2018, the city was incredulous. In his first season for the Blue and White, he scored 47 goals and became the stabilizing force in the dressing room they needed. It wasn't a surprise when he was named team captain this fall. It would be delirium and bedlam in the city if Tavares ever gets to hoist Lord Stanley wearing the Leaf on his chest.
6. The Toronto FC wins the MLS Championship (2017) I am not much of a soccer fan but I am gradually learning the game. The fanbase in our city is robust and devoted. Thousands show up for every game at BMO field and they went absolutely apeshit when they won the championship. The Toronto Argos won two Grey Cups in this decade and could only wish they had half of the people show up to their games as does FC.
5. The Toronto Blue Jays trade for Josh Donaldson (2014) This was a good old-fashioned baseball trade. The Jays traded Brett Lawrie, Kendall Graveman, Sean Nolin, and Franklin Barreto to the Oakland A's for the power-hitting third baseman. Donaldson slotted seamlessly into the number two spot in the lineup, ahead of Jose Bautista and Edwin Encarnacion and created magic. He promised the rain and he brought it. The Jays added a few more pieces at mid-season that propelled them to the AL East title (Troy Tulowitzki, anyone?) but it was the acquisition of Donaldson that was the catalyst. His 2015 season won him the league MVP and his four years in Toronto are amongst the best in team history.
4. Bianca Andreescu wins the United States Open (2019) Ok, technically she is from Thornhill via Mississagua but we will claim her anyway. The nineteen-year-old phenom has had a year to remember. She not only beat the legendary Serena Williams to claim her first grand slam title but she also won two other important titles this year, including the Canadian Open. She is the first Canadian to win her home country tournament in fifty years. She has risen to number four in the rankings, the highest ever for a Canadian tennis player of either sex and she just won the Lou Marsh Trophy (Canadian athlete of the year) unanimously. Not bad for a girl not yet out of her teens.
3. The Toronto Raptors trade for Kawhi Leonard (2018) This trade was franchise-defining. Not only did the Raptors not know if the Kawhi they were trading for was fully healthy but they traded the face of their team, DeMar DeRozen, to get him. They also knew that they were probably getting a "one and done" season out of their newly acquired superstar but took the risk and hoped for a big payoff. Masai Ujiri had balls of steel to make that trade and it was the biggest deal of the decade for any Toronto sports franchise.
2. This (2015)
I went back and forth for an hour trying to decide between this iconic moment and number one but what clinched it for me was that this led to the Jays moving on to the ALCS and they ultimately lost that series to Kansas City. That said, you have to remember what happened just before Bautista hit this bomb. There was that weird-ass play in the top of the inning where Russell Martin messed up. With two outs in the seventh inning and the game tied at 2, Rangers second baseman Rougned Odor led off third. Texas right fielder Shin-Soo Choo, a left-handed hitter, faced Toronto reliever, Aaron Sanchez. Choo took a 1-2 fastball for a ball and, as baseball’s new speed-up-the-game rules mandate, stayed in the batter’s box. Harmless stuff. Choo did, however, tilt his bat and his hands back over the plate just as Martin lobbed the ball back to Sanchez. Martin’s toss hit Choo’s bat. It squirted toward third base. Odor came home with the go-ahead run. The game was delayed for twenty minutes while the umpires tried to sort out the mess. The Dome went nuts when Odor was awarded home, so Bautista's 3-run shot was clutch and has to be framed in the context of the mess that happened before. It would have been my number one until this happened.
1. This (2019)
This was the most unbelievable shot I have ever seen. That it was game seven in the second round and wasn't even what won them their championship, speaks volumes as to how important it was. Murals are still up around the city depicting it. The Raptors winning the first major sports championship in Toronto in twenty-six years was the icing on a delicious sporting decade. The city came out by the millions to fete their heroes. (I know. I was in the middle of the parade throng.) There were few hard feelings when Kawhi bolted back to L.A. to play for his hometown Clippers. He did as promised. He made our city feel whole again for a brief moment in time.
This photo will go down in Toronto sporting lore for all time. This is how we show our love up north. (Photo by Frank Gunn of Associated Press)
Happy new sporting decade, Toronto. Let's hope it's even half as exciting as the last one.
Somewhere in the backlog of these posts, I have mentioned how much I really like Hallmark and Lifetime Christmas movies.
There is absolutely no logical reason for this weird-assed fandom. These movies are really terrible. Trust me. Cheaply made, poorly acted, and poorly produced stories that stretch the limits of credulity of even the most devoted of Christmas movie fans, these formulaic films should be an affront to every single tenet of entertainment value that I hold dear, and yet, I am captivated and entranced when the first showings hit the airwaves in November. I watch them a lot. All of them. Often. It is a wee bit disturbing.
I will save you the trouble of subjecting yourselves to sitting through a painful two hours of these Harlequin Romances of the season with what I like to call Dawn's Quick Synopsis of Every Single Hallmark/Lifetime Christmas Movie Ever Made.
Beginning-first half hour. Our heroine (because it's always a woman) finds herself in some sort of quandary that involves the upcoming holiday. It could be work-related, (because these are modern millenial women) family issues, travel problems, dinner plans, or a nostalgic pining for home. There is always a cute best friend who is unbelievably supportive, a child (these can include our ingenue's own offspring, a niece, nephew, or street urchin, or the son or daughter of the man she is about to meet) who will act as a matchmaker, and a jackass of a boyfriend. Our heroine will travel in this first half-hour to a quaint town, where she will be mesmerized by the locals, love the indelible spirit of Christmas which is everywhere, and where she will meet some unbelievably gorgeous and local vet, soldier, doctor, handyman, businessman, carpenter, who may or may not have an unbelievably gorgeous kid hanging around, dependent solely on if the child of the movie is introduced earlier as hers.
Half-hour-first hour. Our leading lady is continually thrown into ridiculous situations and inane coincidences with the hunky local. She keeps reminding him that she has an asshole of a boyfriend back home but that doesn't seem to deter the LL Bean model who is trudging through the fake snow to make Christmas cookies and sing carols with her. The kid is always there for ambience because what kind of Christmas movie doesn't have kids believing in the magic of Christmas and hoping beyond hope that Daddy will find the woman of his dreams who can ski down the mountain beside him in next year's catalogue.
First hour-hour and a half. The problem that was besetting our leading lady seems to be easily solvable and she discovers how much she loves the quaint little village where everybody is always Santa and Christmas is celebrated 24/7/365. But she realizes that she has a boyfriend and exactly at the ninety-minute mark, (it is really creepy how I can set my watch by this) she apologizes to the Christmas fling and heads home to her miserable Brooks Brothers clone. Sometimes, Mr. Wall Street makes the trek to Christmasville to interrupt what might be a chaste first kiss between leading lady and backwoods hunk, but there is always a fly in the ointment.
90 minutes-End. Asshole is dispatched, magic is reinstated, a quick kiss, a child's dream comes true, and Christmas in Hooterville is forever preserved.
So, why do I like these shitty excuses for entertainment?
I'm not entirely certain but it has something to do with the fact that they are total escapism. There is nothing political, controversial, nor even a hint of contention in these relationships. I like the familiarity of the themes and I like the quiet certainty of the endings.
But this year...Hallmark/Lifetime are doing something that I am sincerely wary of. They are introducing "Chanukah"-themed movies into their rotations. Oy! Here is the TV guide blurb for tonight's offering.
Mistletoe and Menorahs Ambitious toy company executive Christy (did I mention that they always have holiday-themed names?) has an opportunity to land a career-making new account if she can learn basically everything there is to know about Chanukah and very quickly. Luckily, Jonathan, a friend of one of Christy's co-workers, has all the knowledge she needs, (read that: HE'S A JEW!!) plus he desperately needs someone who can turn his stale bachelor pad into an authentic Christmas wonderland, to score points with his girlfriend's dad.
In other words, this Chanukah movie is actually a Christmas movie wrapped up in gold-foiled gelt.
It isn't a secret that I loathe the false equivalency of anything comparing Christmas to Chanukah. Chanukah, merely by virtue of its seasonal placement on the calendar, is often thought of as the Jewish Christmas. Of course, that idea is really stupid and demeans the celebrations and observances of both holidays but if you are out and about anywhere in North America right now, you might think that Jews are celebrating Christmas in blue and white. There are ugly Chanukah-themed sweaters; gingerbread houses with Magen David on the door; Elf on a Shelf's stereotyped Jewish cousin, Mensch on a Bench; and the always dreadful Chanukah bushes. In response to this "Chrismification" of Chanukah, I wonder how our non-Chanukah observing cousins might react to a potato latke yule log or a deep-fried, jelly-filled nativity scene.
I understand the knee-jerk reaction to act in the name of inclusivity for all of us who are non-participants in the baby Jesus season but here's the thing: I have never once missed celebrating Christmas because I have never once celebrated Christmas. I don't feel neglected and I don't feel as though I am missing out. I find the season pretty and joyous and for those who are observant, it is a time for family and friends. In my younger days, I sang in Christmas choirs and I have been carolling. I have been invited to family tree-decorating parties and I have baked Christmas cookies with friends for their celebrations and have loved participating, but it is absolutely understood that I am a guest. I am not there to intermingle my holiday observances with theirs. I have even attended Christmas Eve mass so that I might keep a friend company. It was a beautiful experience but it wasn't my celebration. I have never once looked at Christmas and thought of it as a secular observance. It is religiously significant but not for me and therefore I don't do the stringing of lights or a tree because it simply isn't my holiday.
Chanukah is different than Christmas. It is a minor holiday that celebrates freedom and independence and is frankly a wee bit uncomfortable for me due to the fundamentalism the Maccabees represent in my otherwise pluralistic existence. We eat greasy, fried foods and we fill our homes with light at what is, for us in North America, the darkest time of the year. Gifts are NOT a requirement although many families choose otherwise. I understand that some families, due to the intertwining of faiths, have found ways to co-mingle the holidays. As somebody who has never had to deal with such dilemmas, I would never suggest that this is inappropriate, only that I would like to see the holidays stand on their own merits. We Jews don't need to adopt Christmas traditions any more than Christmas celebrators need Chanukah in order to feel as though they have satisfied their need for seasonal inclusivity. So, I would suggest avoiding the ugly blue sweaters laden with sparkling menorahs or the white tinsel bushes heavy with blue gelt ornaments. Find Chanukah traditions that aren't dependent on Christmas-themes and embrace those instead.
I will probably take a pass on tonight's Lifetime Chanukah-themed Christmas movie mostly because I think it might cause me some indigestion. I can handle Christmas as an outsider. It's really ok with me. Just don't pretend that Chanukah is its equivalent.
I can't believe I feel compelled to write about this Don Cherry bullshit but I'm sick and very aggravated with the amount of God's dandruff falling from the sky and I need a distraction so, here goes.
1. Don Cherry was a pretty piss-poor career minor-league hockey player who displayed some marginal coaching skills. He was a middling coach who took an "in their primes" Bobby Orr and Phil Esposito-fronted Bruins team to a Stanley Cup final appearance. ONCE! His coaching career was colourful but largely unremarkable.
2. He was able to parlay that "colourful personality" into a thirty-seven-year gig commenting mostly on hockey, while occasionally veering off into bizarre tangents and rants.
3. His weird-assed suits, strange obsession with his dog, friendships around the league, and penchant for protecting fighting in the game, garnered him an angry but loyal following of like-minded fans who could not ever accept the changes in society, in general, and hockey, in particular.
4. As his appeal grew, so did his boldness. He often would veer into xenophobic, anti-European, and flat out racist rants that had little to do with the game. (I would provide the links and receipts but did I mention that I'm sick and I'm not your fucking Google? It's all YouTubed for you to discover.)
5. The CBC who first hired his racist-ass never really challenged his bullshit because, frankly, he was great for ratings. To be blunt, they enabled him and allowed his platform to grow. To understand just how beloved he was to his loyal minions and sycophants, remember that he was once on a list of the One Hundred Greatest Canadians. (He clocked in at number 7 ahead of Alexander Graham Bell and Wayne Gretzky.)
6. When Rogers Sportsnet bought the rights to Hockey Night in Canada, there was a subcontracting arrangement set up whereby the CBC would simulcast the Saturday night games and the playoffs so that there would be continuity and so that the product would reach more Canadians. Rogers rehired Cherry and his sidekick Ron MacLean, to continue Coach's Corner. It was a money decision. Budweiser (who owns Labatts) is the primary sponsor. They have been at Rogers for the past seven years, so all of you busting the backs of the CBC ombudsman, back the fuck off. They do not employ any of the hockey announcers. Rogers does and it is Rogers that finally stepped up today to fire Cherry.
7. Don Cherry did not have his right to free speech denied today. He is free to spew or believe whatever racist shit he'd like. What he doesn't have a right to, is a private company's platform from which to cackle. Cherry worked for Rogers. He, like every other employee, is subject to and bound by whatever the code of conduct Rogers deems appropriate. Cherry obviously violated that today because his employer took action. Some, myself included, would say that his dismissal is long overdue. Perhaps. But whatever sent Rogers over the edge today had absolutely nothing to do with a violation of free speech. Cherry was hired to talk hockey and even though he veered off on more than one tangent in his career, this latest one was a bridge too far for his employer. We might never know the exact conversations that occurred at Sportsnet today but you can be damn certain that the sponsors' and money considerations were involved.
8. For all of you spouting the fact that Cherry was held to a higher standard for his racism than our own Prime Minister, I will not argue the point. It is true that what Justin Trudeau did in blackface was abhorrent and I won't defend it but we just had a job review concerning his actions and for whatever the reasons, a strong minority of Canadians rehired him. Cherry's employer chose to go a different direction and for that I applaud them. I also will not accept "whataboutism" in any form. Every case is singular and should be examined on the merits.
9. This entire episode is being spun around Cherry's affinity for our veterans and the poppy symbol. I have no doubt that he is passionate about them both but let's not pretend that his rant wasn't filled with racist dog whistles ("you people") and immigrant hating verbiage. In the words of that great philosopher, Judge Judy Sheidlin, "Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining."
Nobody is entitled to a lifetime pass in a job unless you happen to be an American Supreme Court Justice. Don Cherry's time has long passed him and his vocal minority of supporters by. The NHL, Hockey Canada, the mayors of Mississauga and Toronto, and other high profile hockey people and politicians called for his removal. This isn't "cancel culture". This is a clear example of a man who grossly abused and violated his platform and job description and got canned for it. The ranty, racist uncle act wore thin with the wrong people and I believe that both hockey fans and Canadians will be better for his exit from the public arena.
I attended a very cool panel discussion last evening featuring some of the cast and creators of the Israeli broadcast sensation, Shtisel. If you haven't already been swept up by this worldwide phenomenon, I suggest that you hit up your Netflix account post-haste and do not dare surface until you have binged the entirety of both seasons. (A third season is in the works and cannot come soon enough.)
The panel was sponsored jointly by Beth Tzedek and Beth Torah congregations here in Toronto and was the precursor to the midnight service of Selichot which marks the official beginning of the Yamim Noraim or High Holy Days. The Selichot prayers are those of repentance during which we Jews communally ask The Divine Spirit for forgiveness. The service is often a poignant and soul-stirring precursor to the Days of Awe. Having the Shtisel cast precede the service was a brilliant ploy on the part of the two congregations to draw in worshippers to a unique but difficult service, given the lateness of the hour. An enthusiastic group of Toronto Shtisel groupies packed the synagogue last night hoping to feed their fandom. For most, I am certain that Selichot services were deep in the dark recesses of their minds.
I will admit that Shtisel was the drawing card for me as well. Having led my share of Selichot services, the novelty of seeing the Israeli cast in person was way ahead on the depth chart of attending a midnight service for which I have tremendous difficulty in staying awake. I'm not certain what I expected of these actors but I certainly wasn't prepared to be dazzled by a true Yamim Noraim moment.
During a question about how she reconciles her abandoned Haredi wife character of Giti with a far more liberal interpretation of how we believe that women should react to the return of a wayward spouse, actress Neta Riskin was incredibly circumspect and, frankly quite brilliant in her answer when she stated,
"We tend to judge other people by their actions but we tend to judge ourselves by our intentions."
I was stunned by this bit of truly cogent modern philosophy.
We do judge others by their actions or, worse yet, their inactions but we tend to excuse our own inaction by what we consider to be honourable intentions.
What if we were to flip the equation? What if we tried to look beyond the actions of those we easily condemn with a keystroke or a flippant remark and instead we attempted to see the work behind what they have done or plan to do? Conversely, what if instead of holding onto our good intentions like life preservers, we finally put some of what we say we are going to do into concrete action? Obviously, it isn't a perfect idea. There are still those out there whose actions are inherently nasty or those who spout platitudes without backing up their rhetoric, but what if we judged others a bit more by their intentions and ourselves a bit more by our actions? Isn't it possible we might find a more balanced approach to the way we live our lives and perhaps a steadier manner to how we exist in a world fraught with emotional landmines?
We enter into the New Year with a great deal of anxiety. We are concerned by the lack of moral fortitude by our leaders and we see suffering coming from all corners of the earth. We are living in a time of schism and the chasms between us seem unbreachable. But what if, for a brief moment in time, we looked at those closest to us and tried to reach past what we perceive they have done and look more into their intents. And then, we look inward and move beyond our stated intentions and into concrete plans of action to back up our words. Couldn't we find a small measure of common ground with those whom we disagree?
In order for it to happen, we need to accept our own failings and apologize without hesitation or reservation to those whom we have caused pain, and we must accept the apologies of those who have failed us. "For sins against The Almighty, the Day of Atonement atones, but for sins of one person against another, the Day of Atonement does not atone until they have made peace with one another."
Neta Riskin's Giti needed to move on from her philandering husband's actions otherwise she couldn't find true teshuva (repentance) for herself. She chose to see the intention of his renewed commitment to her and the family and to forgive his sin of leaving. It was the most difficult of paths but it enabled her to move forward.
Action and intention are truly two sides of the same coin. Let's enter into the year 5780 with both for ourselves and hope that others are trying to do the same.
May the coming year be one of health, commonality, love, life, and peace. Shana Tovah U'metukah.
TIFF is over for another year and given the unending torrent of shit that is coming our way every single day, I am once again grateful to have had the distraction of the art of filmmaking.
Not every movie that we saw was great. Many were good, some mediocre, and some had stellar performances in otherwise lacklustre films. That said, each and every one was a labour of love for its director. I remain in awe of this form of storytelling and even though a movie might not live up to my expectations, the amount of energy, money, talent, and vision that is expended continues to amaze.
Such was the case with our final screening of TIFF, Steven Soderbergh's The Laundromat. Boasting an all-star cast including the incomparable Meryl Streep, the always chameleonic Gary Oldman, and the ever-charming Antonio Banderas, The Laundromat attempts to unravel and simplify the true to life story of wealth consolidation uncovered in the Panama Papers. Using an odd combination of satire, story vignettes, some fourth-wall-breaking narration, and the simplicity of animation, Soderbergh tries, somewhat in vain, to breakdown the exploitation of the world's financial systems that were used to enrich a few greedy individuals and that was ultimately uncovered through whistleblower testimony by newspapers around the globe. It is a maze of shell companies, insurance frauds, paper wealth that wasn't, and off-shore entities that is as confusing as it sounds and it is truly anger-inducing for anybody who finally has a "Come to Jesus" moment about these financial scams.
Unfortunately, the mess of the financial atrocities uncovered in the Panama Papers is a bit more than even the great Soderbergh can chew in one bite. While the acting is as stellar as one might imagine given the cast, the script is uneven and convoluted. Meryl Streep's enraged "widow on a mission" isn't nearly enough to sustain a storyline that goes off the rails with several subplots that do little to advance the chain of events. While there is a bit of sleight of hand at the end of the film when Soderbergh allows his version of the whistleblower to have his/her say through the voice of one of his characters, it really isn't enough to redeem the rest of the film.
The Laundromat is another Netflix film that will be on a streaming device near you very soon, so there is little downside to watching the movie but I would be hardpressed to give it a full-throated recommendation.
Dawn and The Husband's review of The Laundromat: The Husband would give it a marginal YUP. He definitely liked it more than I did. I would give it an unqualified MEH. Watch at your leisure but don't expect brilliance. And...That's a wrap for TIFF '19. We screened seven films and while none were terrible, none were particularly memorable either. My favourite was most definitely A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood while Renee Zellweger puts in an unbelievable performance in a very flawed Judy. The People's Choice Award this year went to Jojo Rabbit which will immediately climb to the top of our must-see list. Thanks for following. Until next year, TIFF.
Editor's Note: For the third consecutive year, Dawn and The Husband will be spending chunks of the next fortnight attending the Toronto International Film Festival, known to the locals as TIFF. While they can now proudly call themselves seasoned veterans at this madness, they have still selected a modest, albeit an increased number of films, (7) because they are old and lining up for hours is tough on the joints; have no interest in midnight madness viewings; and that number is honestly far more films than anybody really needs to view in less than ten days. TIFF still serves as a tremendous distraction from the world's ills, the impending High Holidays, and asshole would-be dictators whose names rhyme with Dump and Thug. (If you are British, you can reasonably now add the asshole who rhymes with Doris to this list.) The next several posts will focus exclusively on TIFF and will offer very quick bullet point reviews for the movies seen.
I love a good caper movie.
Charade, Ocean's 11, The Italian Job, How to Steal a Million, The Thomas Crown Affair, The Hot Rock, The Sting, A Fish Called Wanda...this list is endless and while most are average films, they are good fun to watch.
I am less inclined to love a psychological thriller but given the right plot, intrigue, and direction, I might find myself immersed.
The Husband is a huge Alfred Hitchcock fan. He loves the masterful way that Hitch would weave a story together without ever really giving away the goods until the very end. Years ago, as a birthday gift, my brother gave The Husband tickets to see Psycho on the big screen with a Q and A that followed with Janet Leigh. Viewing Hitch's masterpiece in the manner in which it was intended, was one of the most terrifying evenings I have ever spent in a movie theatre. And...I had seen the film before and knew everything that was about to occur. That's how good Alfred Hitchcock was at manipulating our psyches during a film.
Few directors today are able to achieve that level of cognitive distortion. While we might accept Hitchcock as the master and understand that coming close to his status is probably unattainable for most filmmakers, it frustrates the hell out of me when I can drive a truck through plotholes and predict the outcomes of movies that are being billed as twisted thrillers.
Such was the experience today with our screening of TheBurnt Orange Heresy. Director Giuseppe Capotondi adapts the 1971 novel of the same name and updates the time, space, and location of the bête noir book. A formally esteemed art critic and his weekend fling are summoned to the Lake Como summer home of a wealthy art collector (a really terrific and surprising turn by Mick Jagger) whereby he is asked to perform a small task for his benefactor. On the grounds of the estate, our leading man and lady meet up with a hermit artist (Donald Sutherland) whose paintings seem to mysteriously keep disappearing from world view. There are the requisite banter and sexual tension and even a terrific back and forth on the value of art and its meaning but there is much that is far too obvious. The red herrings are everywhere in the story but the problem is that they aren't very well hidden.
While the acting is capable and the story has promise, this film frustrated the hell out of me because I wanted to scream at the screen whenever I noticed a flaw in the storytelling. It isn't that The Burnt Orange Heresy is a bad film, it just should have been so much better. As we walked home from the theatre, The Husband remarked that if we had seen it on Netflix or Amazon Prime, we probably would have enjoyed it more. Our expectations are often lower with home viewing and perhaps that is an inherent issue with how our viewing habits have been altered by streaming. I wouldn't tell people not to see this movie but I would probably wouldn't recommend it for a more expensive evening out either. Hitchcock, it ain't.
Editor's Note: For the third consecutive year, Dawn and The Husband will be spending chunks of the next fortnight attending the Toronto International Film Festival, known to the locals as TIFF. While they can now proudly call themselves seasoned veterans at this madness, they have still selected a modest, albeit an increased number of films, (7) because they are old and lining up for hours is tough on the joints; have no interest in midnight madness viewings; and that number is honestly far more films than anybody really needs to view in less than ten days. TIFF still serves as a tremendous distraction from the world's ills, the impending High Holidays, and asshole would-be dictators whose names rhyme with Dump and Thug. (If you are British, you can reasonably now add the asshole who rhymes with Doris to this list.) The next several posts will focus exclusively on TIFF and will offer very quick bullet point reviews for the movies seen. Two films for the price of one post today.
Women in Filmhas been a mantra around TIFF for the past couple of years. The organization has been actively pursuing and showing movies made by women filmmakers both at the festival itself and throughout the year at the TIFF Lightbox theatre. I have followed the program with some interest only to be massively disappointed when reviewers, press people, and award bestowers have, with acute regularity, ignored the dynamic work women in the industry have been creating. It isn't as though we planned to centre our TIFF going this year around dynamic women directors and artists but it certainly has turned out that way. The first four films that we screened were all directed by women and the two on which I will concentrate today feature incredibly powerful performances by the leading women. In fact, I suspect that both Harriet and Judy will long be remembered more for the work of Cynthia Erivo and Renee Zellweger rather than the artistry of the films themselves.
Harriet is an important film and one that I frankly cannot believe hasn't been made until now. When introducing the movie last evening for its world premiere, TIFF director Cameron Bailey stated that there have been more than thirty movies made about General George Custer and yet, this is the first major screen treatment about Harriet Tubman. It is a shonda that it has taken Hollywood so long to get around to recognizing the heroic, dauntless, and flat-out ballsiness of a true American hero. In the capable hands of director Kasi Lemmons, Harriet Tubman is returned to her rightful place of honour in the film history books. Cynthia Erivo (Widows, The Colour Purple: Broadway) is simply sublime in her star-turn as the runaway slave turned rescuer turned the leader of a rebellion. She embodies Harriet's tenacity, resourcefulness, faith, and toughness and imbues it all with tremendous grace. Director Lemmons makes a conscious choice to not show all the brutality that Harriet suffered during her slave years on the screen, but rather she has put together a film that is well-crafted and showcases the enormous talents of Ms. Erivo. (She even gets to show off her magnificent singing voice.) That said, the movie does fall flat at times and the transitions are often awkward. The supporting cast is fine, with a really nice turn by Janelle Monae as a business owner/friend, but it is the power of Cynthia Erivo that drives Harriet. There have been other movies about the American slave trade that have probably been more muscular and more difficult to digest in our modern context, (Twelve Years a Slave comes to mind) but that shouldn't negate what Lemmons and Erivo have attempted to do here. It is important that the people who worked to end the scrouge of slavery, like Harriet Tubman, are given their proper place in the annals of history.
I will admit to having mixed feelings about Judy. Let's just get the obvious facts out of the way right off the top. Renee Zellweger is simply spectacular as the late in life and totally fucked up icon. She inhabits her skin and it is, at times, really creepy. She is raw and weathered and vulnerable and a real mess. She is everything that Judy Garland was in those tragic six months before her death. Ms. Zellweger even manages to display some Judy-esque vocals that, while nowhere near the real thing, are passable for a drugged-out version of the brilliance. There is no question that Renee Zellweger will be at the top of everybody's awards' lists this winter.
But... I am still trying to figure out why this movie needed to be made. As a huge Judy Garland fan, I was not in any way surprised by anything I saw on the screen. Judy Garland was a tragic woman with the voice of the century. She was used and abused by every single person with whom she ever came in contact with the exception of her children. She was set on a path of personal destruction by an overbearing mother and a closeted and unhappy father. She was misused and treated badly by the Hollywood studio system and when she could no longer function properly due to years of alcohol and drug use, she was cast aside by friends and family until she was broke and homeless. All of this is well documented and well understood. So...why did we have to see the final breakdown on film?
I was uncomfortable watching this film in a way that I was uncomfortable watching Mommy Dearest. I just don't understand why this side of her tragedy was necessary to display. Judy Garland was the greatest live performer of all time. Watching the unravelling made me feel like a voyeur. Zellweger shows the integrity in Judy's determination to perform and why she was so appealing and she successfully captures the volatility that was her personality but the movie is uneven and difficult.
So far, this year at TIFF has been the year of the woman for us.
Dawn and The Husband's give two happy Yups to Harriet and two marginal Yups to Judy. Both positive reviews based on the powerful performances of their lead women. **A quick follow-up to my post about How to Build a Girl. I saw the incomparable Beanie Feldstein last season on Broadway in Hello, Dolly! when she played Minnie Fay. I completely forgot about it while writing that post. She was great then and great now. She will next be featured with her old friend Ben Platt in the theatrical version of Sondheim's Merrily We Roll Along.
Editor's Note: For the third consecutive year, Dawn and The Husband will be spending chunks of the next fortnight attending the Toronto International Film Festival, known to the locals as TIFF. While they can now proudly call themselves seasoned veterans at this madness, they have still selected a modest, albeit an increased number of films, (7) because they are old and lining up for hours is tough on the joints; have no interest in midnight madness viewings; and that number is honestly far more films than anybody really needs to view in less than ten days. TIFF still serves as a tremendous distraction from the world's ills, the impending High Holidays, and asshole would-be dictators whose names rhyme with Dump and Thug. (If you are British, you can reasonably now add the asshole who rhymes with Doris to this list.) The next several posts will focus exclusively on TIFF and will offer very quick bullet point reviews for the movies seen. After a very busy weekend, we resumed our TIFF-ing on Sunday with two screenings. I'm not exactly certain what we were thinking when we decided that after serving Torah study breakfast, hosting a citizenship party at our home, and an unveiling on Sunday morning, that watching two movies in one day was a great scheduling choice but there we were struggling to keep our eyes open for A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood and How to Build a Girl. We needn't have worried. Both films are exceptional and rather than fall victim to exhaustion, instead, we were exhilarated. I will admit to having concerns about Beautiful Day when we purchased the tickets. I have been a Mr. Rogers fan for decades and was so very moved by the documentary last year entitled Won't You Be My Neighbour that I am still stinging from its exclusion in Oscar consideration. If you haven't seen this beautiful film about Fred, it is a must-watch. The doc details the most intimate details of Rogers' life and his lifework with children. It is truly stunning that anybody could have been as fundamental a human being as Fred Rogers was, his approach to his own life and how it affected the world at large, is an ethos we should all be striving for. As much as I love to watch Tom Hanks create a character, I was concerned that Beautiful Day would reduce Mr. Rogers to a caricature in a mediocre biopic. I needn't have worried. Under the lovely and tender hand of director Marielle Heller (Can You Ever Forgive Me, The Diary of a Teenage Girl) Fred Rogers becomes the vehicle for her vision of wanting to give the world more of what Fred Rogers was rather than who he was. Based on the real-life friendship of Rogers and writer Tom Junod, Beautiful Day is less a movie about Fred Rogers' life and much more about how the values that he lived by are so lacking in the world. Tom Hanks is exceptional in the role but it is Matthew Rhys (The Americans) who really carries the film. His tortured writer is central to the film and he really carries the heavy lifting. The article that the film is based on is available here and I would really recommend that you read it after you have seen the film. It will help with your wonder and we all know that Mr. Rogers really did appreciate the wonder. At the Q and A following the screening, Heller was asked if she was concerned that the documentary would hurt the reception for the film but she replied that she views the two movies as sister projects and that they should be seen as a complete compilation of Mr. Rogers. She said, "It can't be a bad thing to have more Mr. Rogers in the world." As Fred himself said, "If it is mentionable, it is manageable." A quick aside. The music is phenomenal in this film, both the melodies that were written by Fred Rogers and the choices for the soundtrack. It was truly a character in the film. Our second screening of How to Build a Girl was less about the film itself and more about the absolute star-making turn by its lead Beanie Feldstein. (Lady Bird) The filmreally did remind me of a 21st-century version of Clueless. It is a smart, funny, sometimes pathetic, but often brutal portrait of teenage girl self-discovery. Feldstein is a revelation as Johanna and she eats up every single hectare of screen real estate. She is fearless and takes on the role with a verve rarely seen today in film. It was simply a joy to watch her and she absolutely blows Alfie Allen (Game of Thrones) and all of her other costars off the screen. Ms. Feldstein is a star, an unconventional one to be certain, but a real actor's actor. Her career trajectory is about to explode. Expect to see her everywhere in the next year. The movie is slightly predictable and falls apart a bit in the third act but it is really well done and it is very easy to overlook its flaws and tired tropes. Both A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood and How to Build a Girl will be much buzzed during award season but it really doesn't matter at all. See them both. You will be happy you did. Dawn and The Husband give both films two enthusiastic YUPS! **Note: People have asked why I haven't given more detail in these reviews. I hate when I read reviews that give away the movie. I loathe trailers that show you all the best bits. I hope that you will see the films as much as I did and go in with your eyes and your hearts open. Just because I may not like a movie, doesn't mean you won't. Film enjoyment is subjective. I'm giving you the essence, not the plots.
Director Marielle Heller and the writers of Beautiful Neighbourhood
Editor's Note: For the third consecutive year, Dawn and The Husband will be spending chunks of the next fortnight attending the Toronto International Film Festival, known to the locals as TIFF. While they can now proudly call themselves seasoned veterans at this madness, they have still selected a modest, albeit an increased number of films, (7) because they are old and lining up for hours is tough on the joints; have no interest in midnight madness viewings; and that number is honestly far more films than anybody really needs to view in less than ten days. TIFF still serves as a tremendous distraction from the world's ills, the impending High Holidays, and asshole would-be dictators whose names rhyme with Dump and Thug. (If you are British, you can reasonably now add the asshole who rhymes with Doris to this list.) The next several posts will focus exclusively on TIFF and will offer very quick bullet point reviews for the movies seen. I have at least three hard and fast rules that must be followed when choosing a film. 1. Never ever attend a slasher/horror/zombie film. I simply like sleeping at night and trust me when I say, this particular genre is lousy on the REM cycles. As well, women tend to fare poorly during these movies. 2. Always attend any film that involves music or a choir. Choir geeks understand the emotional attachment to singing with friends, so movies about choirs usually involve tight relationships, emotional weepiness, and bonding. The Pitch Perfect trilogy, Sister Act (1 and 2), Joyful Noise, it really doesn't matter how bad the flick is, I will love and revere each moment. 3. I will pay hard cash money for a seat at any film starring Cate Blanchett, Meryl Streep, Annette Bening, or Kristin Scott Thomas. Today's TIFF installment followed all three of Dawn's Movie Rules. Military Wives is a lovely, winsome, often poignant and sometimes bitingly funny movie based on the real-life stories of the Military Wives choirs that have swept across the United Kingdom. It is a movie that has few surprises and the plot at times was predictable and could be a bit pedantic but I loved every single minute of it. Directed by Peter Cattaneo (The Full Monty) and starring the luminous and aforementioned Kristin Scott Thomas along with the very funny and entertaining Sharon Horgan (Catastrophe), Military Wives had me laughing, crying, singing, and reminiscing about how much camaraderie exists between people who sing together. The women left behind while their spouses have deployed to Afghanistan are desperate for some thread of normalcy to keep their emotional heads above water. The formation of their choir offers them a welcome distraction from the economic difficulties faced by military families as well as from the hardships of single parenthood. There are the requisite tears and a few awkwardly funny moments but it is the music and the fact that it isn't always flawless that had me glued to the screen. Singing doesn't need to be perfect. It simply needs to be. Sometimes a movie doesn't need to have an agenda nor does it need to be thought-provoking. It simply needs to entertain. A final word about the magnificent Sharon Horgan. If you haven't taken the time to watch the Amazon Prime series Catastrophe you are missing out on one of the great comedic performances of the past several years. Military Wives could and should be her theatrical coming out party. She was in town and on stage answering questions after the screening. She is simply delightful and is The Husband's latest celebrity crush. Military Wives doesn't have a release date until March but it is getting two enthusiastic YUPS from both The Husband and me.
Editor's Note: For the third consecutive year, Dawn and The Husband will be spending chunks of the next fortnight attending the Toronto International Film Festival, known to the locals as TIFF. While they can now proudly call themselves seasoned veterans at this madness, they have still selected a modest, albeit an increased number of films, (7) because they are old and lining up for hours is tough on the joints; have no interest in midnight madness viewings; and that number is honestly far more films than anybody really needs to view in less than ten days. TIFF still serves as a tremendous distraction from the world's ills, the impending High Holidays, and asshole would-be dictators whose names rhyme with Dump and Thug. (If you are British, you can reasonably now add the asshole who rhymes with Doris to this list.) The next several posts will focus exclusively on TIFF and will offer very quick bullet point reviews for the movies seen. Welcome back to routine, Torontonians.
For many, that means the end of vacations, back to school, re-energization of work projects, and for those of us who are Members of the Tribe, the impending doom of Avinu Malkeinu. It is also TIFF week here in the Big Smoke and since The Husband and I have moved down into the nether regions of the city, the annual film festival has become a rite of seasonal passage for us. In our younger and more suburban days, TIFF was always something that we wanted to do but because of distance and fall commitments, couldn't adequately budget either the time or funds towards it. Now, many of the screenings are within walking distance or a quick streetcar ride away from home and since I no longer have to stress the Yamim Noraim, TIFF has become a regular part of our entertainment experience.
Yes, it is extremely elitist and not at all cheap.
Yes, it is a royal pain and strain on the King Street streetcar on which I have become wholly dependent. And...yes it makes any and all other social involvements nearly impossible for two consecutive weeks. All that said...it is also...
Exciting as hell to be one of the first people on the planet to screen a new work of art. Wonderful and amazing to sit in a movie theatre with like-minded patrons who wouldn't even consider using their phones, eat their lunches from noisy food containers, talk to their seatmates, or leave in the middle of the film to go and purchase Goobers or Raisinettes from the concession stand. Cool as f*** to be able to say to your friends that you saw a question and answer panel with George Clooney. (This year...fingers crossed...Tom Hanks.) I know that it is just a few flicks and a few pieces of celluloid. In the grand scheme of the universe, it means absolutely nothing. But for me, TIFF is a few lovely and distraction-laden days at the end of the summer (IT DOESN'T END FOR THREE MORE WEEKS!) doing something fun in my hometown.
Bring on the movies.
** Our first film screens on Friday afternoon. I will attempt to get the quick-hit reviews up shortly after each screening.
Like most others, I have been in a morass of despair this weekend.
The loss of so many innocents at the hands of pure evil is without comprehension. We rail, we swear, we cry, we mourn, and we plead for answers and yet...they never come. We are rudderless and worse yet, we are leaderless.
In my anger and my sorrow, I went looking for something, anything, that might help salve a broken soul. And while it is so very far from a solution, I stumbled upon a text entitled Sefer Ha-Kuzari written by the medieval Spanish Jewish philosopher and poet Judah HaLevi. In what as become one of the most important apologetics of Jewish philosophy ever composed, the Kuzari is written in five parts in dialogue form between a rabbi and a pagan. The pagan has been idealized as the king of Khazars who, according to some scholars, converted to Judaism along with others in the Khazar nobility. (It should be noted that there exist arguments amongst historians as to the validity of the Khazar conversions, but HaLevi uses them as a literary license for his work.
In part III of the Kuzari, we find a discussion between the Khazar and the rabbi that discusses the necessity for righteousness and piety as a prerequisite for leadership.
Al Khazari:Give me a description of the doings of one of your pious men and how they behave.
The Rabbi:A pious man is, so to speak, the guardian of his country, who gives to its inhabitants, many provisions and all they need. He leads them justly and he wrongs no one, nor does he grant anyone more than his due.
Al Khazari:I asked you about a pious man, not a leader.
The Rabbi: The pious man is a leader who is obeyed by his senses and by his mental acuity as well as his physical faculties, because as it is written: 'He who rules his spirit is greater than he that takes a city' (Prov. 16: 32). He is fit to rule because if he were the prince of a country he would be as just as he is to his body and soul. (Kuzari III 2-5)
According to Judah HaLevi, the requirements for leadership are the same as they are for any human being. Our leaders must be imbued with a sense of justice, an ability to give to all in the same manner, and to not oppress its people. In an absence of leadership, it is incumbent upon all of us to step up and to affect the change that is missing in those who declare themselves false prophets.
Rabbi Hillel said, "In a place where there is no humanity, strive to be human." (Pirkei Avot 2:5)
We have seen firsthand the inhumanity of our leaders. Those who gin up hate for craven political gain and survival have lost the moral authority to lead. The men and women who refuse to solve the problems of society with real and concrete solutions but only offer "thoughts and prayers", have sacrificed their claims for higher office. Those who stand by while their constituents are slaughtered cannot accurately be called "leaders" because they lack the basic sense of justice, piety, and humanity to claim the mantles bestowed upon them by their people. When leaders cannot even pretend to strive for humanity they no longer deserve to be in positions of power and should be removed via any and all peaceful, democratic means.
I refuse to sit idly by while mass murder becomes the norm for our neighbours. I refuse to listen any longer to those who profess that nothing can be done. I refuse to pretend that walking into my synagogue surrounded by armed guards is normal...or my church...or my mosque...or my school...or my shopping centre...or my street...or my city...or my...
If you can look at yourself in the mirror and use your civic franchise to still vote for these cowards, I weep for you. If you still think that this is the society and the leadership that you deserve, I can no longer look past your hate and your racism. If you willingly enable these people with your money and your votes, you are a part of the problem and certainly have no real interest in the solutions. When history is written and your children and grandchildren ask where you were when, what will your answer be? I know how I will respond and I will stand proudly on my convictions because they are on the side of justice.
The pious person IS a leader.
A wanton, soulless, narcissistic, and craven man is not.
Zichronam L'ivracha. May the memories of all those who perished this weekend in El Paso and Dayton at the hands of hate always and forever be for a blessing. And may we all find the strength to stand up to the tyrants and bring a renewed sense of justice and piety back into the consciences of those who are charged with leading our communities.
I am going to state a very unpopular Broadway opinion.
I didn't like Cats.
There. I said it.
And as much as I really didn't enjoy it, The Husband absolutely HATED it. He was thoroughly bored. When it finally premiered here in Toronto thirty-five years ago, he was stuck in a slightly obstructed seat that caused him to miss the entirety of stage left. I don't think a better seat would have mattered, though. The abstract concept of bringing T.S. Eliot's marginal Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats to life in an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical was just a bit beyond his still developing twenty-something musical theatre mind. The poetry was ridiculous enough (and it is ridiculous. Everybody who thinks that they like this show should read it.) but putting it to music with ballet? Well, that was sufficient for him to declare, and still maintain, that it was one of his worst evenings ever in a theatre. I didn't hate it. It really only has one great song and I was wholly impressed by it from a technical standpoint. The make-up, the sets, the movement, and oh that choreography. It was, and still remains, a musical that is fully dependent on an illusion created in a theatre. The distance the audience has from the performers allows for the makeup, costumes, and movement to do their work of conveying an assemblage of cats jumping and leaping all over the stage. When I saw the live television version that was recorded from London in the late eighties, I was disappointed at being able to see the brushstrokes on the performers' faces, the tails held on by chicken wire, and the cheesy looking catsuits. The illusion was lost.
There is a reason that it has taken almost forty years to make a film version of Cats. Cats is basically an abstract dance piece. The cats onstage are not meant to be taken literally. It is a collection of short stories about the names and personalities of a group of felines. There isn't really a storyline that ties them all together. The cats themselves are the story. The idea that a filmmaker could come up with a lucid concept to somehow recreate the magic of the stage on film has always seemed to be illusory. It reminds me of when War Horse was filmed. The amazing puppetry of the horse onstage was lost to the reality of an actual equine. The film was lacking the emotional heft of the stage play that was brought on by the illusion, tricks of the eye, and movement of the "horse" on stage.
And that brings me to the trailer of the upcoming movie version of Cats that was released yesterday. It is available for your viewing pleasure (?) at the bottom of this post. It is disturbing at best and horrific at worst. The felines look like bad Halloween costumes and the CGI of the sets is simply awful. The casting is truly suspect with Jason Derulo the only likely dancer in the group. I mean, c'mon. Taylor Swift mocks her dancing abilities in her own songs. Putting her into a choreographic masterpiece like Cats is like putting me in a swim race against Michael Phelps.
Hollywood has had a terrible time of it lately in adapting Broadway and that is a shame. Hairspray,Mamma Mia, and Les Miz have all suffered from overproduction and bad casting choices. I confess that I hold out very little hope for Cats but the crazy thing is, that I am such an addict of musicals that I will probably shell out the cash for a ticket. That doesn't mean that I should nor should they. Here's hoping they don't mess up In the Heights.
Watch and decide for yourself.
I had a bit of a health scare over the past few months that thankfully has turned out to be much ado about nothing. The details of the events are not at all important (please don't pester me) and most of the anxiety that I was experiencing came almost entirely from my own neuroses and had nothing to do with anything that my doctor or any other medical professional said or implied by their actions. The good news that all is well was finally confirmed yesterday and that palpable exhale you all probably heard was coming from the west end of downtown Toronto.
But...for three months, I have been sitting on shpilkes. (It's a Yiddish term meant to connote fretfulness. It literally means pins and needles.) I did find outlets for my nervousness. I learned to make macarons. Really. I did. I exercised until my legs fell off. I watched Netflix and The Food Network and more baking shows than I can count. The Husband has been really great at trying to calm my apprehensions. I chose not to share this potential problem with anybody but him and I'm sure I wore him down to his last nerve with my constant need for positive validation. His steadiness is something on which I have relied for decades but when one is thrust into uncertainty it plays on all the ballast that one can muster.
And hence the reason for this post.
It occurred to me yesterday after the "all clear" was given, that there were times during these past months whereby my patience or my ability to process complex thoughts has been laid threadbare. I know that I have been short with friends and loved ones and believe me, I never meant any disrespect or harm. It is just that when people are going through silent pain, it isn't always obvious to those around them. We don't always share our difficulties and exhaustion sometimes takes over. We become strange mysteries to those who should be our closest confidants but because of our need for privacy or independent process, we shut them out. It may not always be fair but it is honest.
We tend to see people as they present themselves to us; the facades that they choose to show the world. We rarely delve deeper either because we simply don't think about it or we choose not to ingratiate ourselves into other people's problems. We really don't understand that maybe they haven't slept in days or that perhaps they are dealing with some problem at work or at home that is just eating away at their goodwill. Maybe the baby is going through something or maybe an ageing parent is a concern. Perhaps they are still grieving or perhaps there are money concerns. That woman in the car honking may have had a gruesome day at the office or that man pushing ahead on the subway may have just received a frantic call from his child's caregiver. We coexist with others but we rarely put ourselves in their shoes.
The world can seem like an incredibly selfish and impersonal place these days. I realize that none of my friends or family could have possibly understood the reasons for my even shorter than usual temper or my overwhelming exhaustion or even my exasperation at simple comments. That sense of being insular is on me. But if I have learned anything through this process is that we are all going through something. A bit of compassion goes a long way even if you aren't aware of anything untoward.
And to those whom I might have pissed off or offended during my three-month-long brain fart, I am truly sorry. I'll do better. I promise.
Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, ha-gomel l’chayavim tovim she-g’malani kol tuv.
Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the world, who rewards the undeserving with goodness,
and who has rewarded me with goodness.
Is it possible to have a real and constructive conversation about the Ontario Amber Alert system without somebody calling me a soulless excuse for a human being who is so incredibly selfish as not to have any care for the wellbeing of children?
While this isn't a direct quote, the sentiment is there. Some of the comments directed to people online today have been atrocious.
Let me get a few things out of the way before I explain my perspective.
1. Amber Alerts save lives. They are an important and necessary tool for law enforcement to track down missing and kidnapped children. There is no discussion nor debate on this point. The faster an Amber Alert is issued, the more likely it is that a child is returned safely home. I am a huge proponent of the system and would never advocate for it to be dismantled. EVER!
2. Anybody who calls 911 to complain about an Amber Alert waking them up in the middle of the night should be heavily fined for misuse of the 911 emergency system. The idea that somebody would think that 911 should be their personal complaint department either clearly doesn't understand what 911 is for or clearly doesn't care. A hefty fine should solve that problem for good.
3. I don't mind being woken up in the middle of the night for reasons of emergency. If there is an emergency situation that I could reasonably help with or contribute to the collective response, wake me. Happy to help. I don't mind the shrill alarm nor do I mind trekking down the stairs of my building in the middle of the night in case of emergency. Missing children are absolutely an emergency.
4. If any child of mine or known to me were the subject of disappearance, I would absolutely want the Amber Alert system to be used. Honestly, who wouldn't?
So now, let's talk.
We can agree to all of the above and still acknowledge that the system could use some tweaking. The two philosophies are NOT mutually exclusive and can co-exist. With that in mind....
I have some questions for the designers of the cellphone notification system and how it is used.
1. Why is there no way to snooze the system when somebody is sleeping? I can put my iPhone on a Do Not Disturb for any other reason, but not the Amber Alert? It is possible for me to silence my phone at night but that leads to another issue, namely...
2. If I silence my phone at night to avoid these alerts while sleeping, how do I receive possible emergency calls from my ageing parents? My parents are at a stage in life whereby a middle of the night call might be essential. Should I have to mute my phone simply because of the Amber Alert? I do not have a landline, so can somebody please explain to me how to rectify this issue?
3. Why wasn't yesterday's Alert done in a timely manner? The children went missing with their grandfather around 1:00 in the afternoon. Why did it take almost fifteen hours to issue the Amber Alert? If this is part of police procedure, then they are doing a poor job of explaining it to the public. Isn't it possible to have released the Alert at say, 9:00pm? Again, just asking questions.
4. Jarring people of a certain age and some with health issues in the middle of the night without remedy to stop it seems shortsighted to me. My father has a heart condition. If he had received that alert at 3:00 am, I'm not sure I would be so rational right now. Aren't we just compounding problems?
5. The only way to disable the Amber Alert on an iPhone here in Ontario is to disable the LTE network. Other jurisdictions have a disable function on their software. Why has this not been explored here? Is the answer for me to disable the LTE each and every night? This isn't meant to sound snarky. I really want to understand it.
While I obviously do not like being woken up at 3:00 am, I do understand the necessity of the Amber Alert system and wholeheartedly endorse it. But it does seem to me that there are some kinks in the system that could and should be looked at so as to better utilize the tool and minimize the communal unrest of middle of the night jarring signals.
And please...idiots...911 is not your personal grievance committee. Stop acting like morons.
