Military Wives Sings

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. 

Peter Cattaneo, Sharon Horgan, Jason Flemyng

Getting Ready To Get Our TIFF On Once Again

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. 

The Pious Person Is A Leader

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. 

Why I Fear Cats the Movie

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'm OK And I Hope You Are Too.

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.

I Have Questions

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.

My Annual Letter

Dearest Molly,

Last year, a few months after your "birthday", I wrote you a letter. I am embarrassed to say that it took me almost two months after you made your entrance into this world to collect my thoughts. Chalk it up to emotional upheaval on my part. I simply couldn't give a proper voice to everything magnificent about your arrival. But, write to you I did and that first missive has led me to this one on this your first birthday.

Meeting you has been one of the purest and greatest joys of my life. I thank the Divine Spirit every single day for the gifts you have brought into my orbit. I don't want to place a hefty burden onto your tiny shoulders but seeing the world through your eyes and imagining the future that you will live in, has brought my life into clear focus. It is easy at my age to live selfishly and insularly. We budding alterkakkers sometimes tend to look at forecasts and predictions as mere inconveniences. We pretend that since we will play little to no part in the world that you will surely inherit, the decisions we make today on your behalf have little consequence. Of course, that is a fallacy but the environment we find ourselves in on this your first birthday is riddled with such short-sightedness. I am trying desperately to move beyond such nonsense with you squarely in my thoughts. It is my hope that one of my longterm gifts to you will be one of engagement, involvement, taking up the cause of the underdog, the downtrodden, and care for the planet.

Today, however, I want to give you something far more basic. I want to give you the gift of memory. I want you to be reminded of the joys of your first year. I know that those reminiscences will be shaped entirely by other people's stories, so I wanted you to have some of mine.

I was mesmerized by the attention you paid to our first songs together. When I sang those early melodies to you, the very same my father sang to me, you were completely engaged. You could hardly keep your eyes open, yet you knew instinctively to follow my voice. Maybe, someday you and I can sing Stewball or House at Pooh Corner together just like I did with your dad and mine.

I love the way that you love Gus. Even when he hasn't always been entirely sure about what to make of you, you have been relentless in your pursuit of his affection and his playtime. I hope that you and Gus have many more years together so that you can remember what an exceptional friend he is and how having such a great dog as your introduction to pets has been truly magical. Gus is teaching you about fun, patience, unconditional love, gentility, and sometimes (when you deem it to be so)...sharing. Gus is finally finding his footing with you and he is thrilled with the extra meals you are sending his way. Gus is your first best friend.

I adore that you have a bit of a dramatic flair. I know that your parents will roll their eyes when they read this but there is something incredibly creative about the way you express yourself. Yes, there will come a time when some self-control will need to be exercised and you will soon learn the limits of your expressive outbursts, but I hope that when those lessons are learned you will still know how to advocate for yourself with passion and with strength.

I will forever be moved by the memory of your great-grandfather getting down on the floor in his eighty-first year, to play with you. Your exuberance has been contagious and having great-grandparents around to share in your growth and experiences have been nothing short of magnificent.  The generational nature of your arrival has not been lost on me at all.

I love watching your Zaidy light up in your presence. There is so much that is serious in his world but with you, he is in total fun mode. It doesn't matter what he is doing or thinking about. Whenever he sees you, you become the entirety of his world. There is nothing too much, too complicated, too expensive, or too involved for him when it comes to you.

Every milestone, every new "trick", every photo, every new experience, every family gathering this year has served as a reminder that I am in this for you. I want to see the world through your eyes and to understand what the planet will be like for you when you are my age and beyond. It is not inconceivable that you could live to see the next century and that informs my thoughts and decisions all the time. Sometimes, I find myself looking ahead and wondering what you will be like in five, ten, fifteen years but then I pull back and remind myself to live in the here and now and to enjoy watching the mystery of you unfold in real time. It is an extraordinary and magnificent journey and I will joyously breathe it all in every single day I am afforded.

I love you with all my being, dear Molly.

Happy Birthday. Let's meet here again one year from today. I'm sure that year two will provide much fodder.

Love,

Bubby