Category Archives: Drama

The Wrong Man (1956), directed by Alfred Hitchcock

wrong-man-posterWhen I taught Hamlet some years ago to a high school class in Atlanta, a student voiced surprise that Ophelia, a woman deeply in love with Hamlet, committed suicide. It prompted a class discussion about how friends experience great pain when they see a loved one suffering.

Such is the case of Rose Balestero in The Wrong Man directed by Alfred Hitchcock, who informs us at the beginning of the film that everything we are about to see is true.

Rose is the wife of Manny Balestero, a musician in the prestigious Stork Club in New York City. He enjoys his work, but is consistently in debt because of his small paycheck. When his wife needs money to have her wisdom teeth extracted, he goes to a life insurance company to borrow money against his wife’s policy. It is here that things fall apart. Several office workers identify Manny as the thief who robbed the life insurance company twice before. They summon the police and Manny is arrested on suspicion of robbery. In truth, their identification of Manny is faulty, but the witnesses claim they are sure that he is the robber.

Although the witnesses are not reliable, they cast aspersions on Manny. There is great emotional upheaval in the life of his family when Manny is incarcerated. Sadly, Rose eventually falls into deep depression because of the stress her husband is enduring. She feels his emotional pain so much that it causes her to lose touch with reality. Although Manny is eventually exonerated of the crime when the real perpetrator of the robbery is apprehended and clearly identified, Rose’s depression lingers for a number of years before she mentally recovers.

Having empathy for another human being is a classic Jewish sensibility, especially when dealing with the relationship between spouses. A great twentieth century sage and doer of good deeds, Rabbi Aryeh Levine, was known to be an exemplar of a person who truly cared about others and totally identified with their pain.

The Talmud tells us to love one’s wife as himself and honor and respect her more than himself. When Rabbi Levine’s wife felt pain her leg, they went to the doctor together. When the physician asked, “what can I do for you,” the rabbi responded: “my wife’s foot is hurting us.” He fully identified with his wife’s suffering because he viewed her as part of him. Our tradition tells us that a man’s wife is like part of his own body, and, therefore, husband and wife feel the distress of the other.

Empathy does not only relate to the relationship of one spouse to another. It is even a requirement in Jewish jurisprudence. Maimonides writes that only a person who has children can be appointed to the Sanhedrin, the Jewish Supreme Court, in order to insure a proper judgment. Maimonides felt that a judge must have the perspective of a parent, combining justice and mercy, if he is to judge wisely and compassionately.

Mendel Kalmenson, in an article on friendship, quotes the words of the Lubavitcher Rebbe on what it means to be empathetic and a good friend: “A friend is someone in whose presence you can think aloud without worrying about being taken advantage of. A friend is someone who suffers with you when you are in pain and rejoices in your joy. A friend is someone who looks out for you, and always has your best interests in mind. In fact, a true friend is like an extension of yourself.” The Sages inform us that spouses are one’s best friends. Clearly Rose Balestero is her husband’s best friend for she acutely feels his pain.

Furthermore, Kalmenson observes: “Empathy is not to be confused with sympathy. Sympathy is feeling bad for someone else; empathy is feeling bad with someone else.” Rose Balestero feels the pain of Manny, her husband, and it is overwhelming.

Empathy is good when it does not overwhelm us. If we can feel the anguish of loved ones, and still maintain our emotional equilibrium, then ultimately, we will feel their joy.

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The Giver (2014), directed by Phillip Noyce

giver-posterIn one of the Israeli schools in which I taught, the students in one particular seventh grade class were mostly interested in parroting back information. The typical question I received was “can I read the next paragraph” or “what was my grade on the last test?” It was rare to hear a question that reflected a thinking, active intellect.

At one point I even told the students that unless they began asking thoughtful questions, the class would become boring for me to teach. I told the students I needed them to respond to the literature I taught. I did not want them only to behave; I wanted them to feel the power of the poetic image or verse. I wanted them to consider the meaning of the works we read. I wanted my students not only to think but to feel.

The Giver, a story set in some future time after a nuclear war, describes a society that wants its citizens to think and not to feel. What is paramount is living in tranquility without strong emotions that potentially can corrupt society. Therefore, citizens have their memories wiped out to insure a stable and peaceful world in the future.

The narrative follows the life of teenager Jonas who, after the completion of high school, is assigned a specific vocation in the community together with other teens in the city. The matching of student and vocation takes place in a public ceremony, and Jonas’s mission is saved for last. Unlike his peers, Jonas is chosen to be the new Receiver of Memories because he possesses the four attributes of intelligence, integrity, courage, and an ability to look beyond the present moment. The person charged with instructing Jonas about the past before the cataclysmic destruction of society is the Giver, an old man who is a living repository of all past memories.

Memories of the past both enlighten Jonas and frighten him. In dreams he sees visions of happy scenes and images of violence and destruction. The Giver explains that Jonas’ confused emotional state will create problems for himself and society. In spite of this, Jonas begins to appreciate the role of emotion, which makes life a richer experience.

He shares his newfound wisdom with friends, but the Elders are worried that his actions will destroy the tranquility of their society. The conflict between the Elders’ desire to preserve the status quo and Jonas’ desire to reinsert emotion into the lives of the citizens leads to tension and conflict. Finding balance between emotion and reason in society and in one’s personal life is the theme of The Giver.

Traditional Judaism promotes balance between emotion and reason. It is good to think and it is also good to feel. For example, the Sages tell us that prayer should not only be cerebrally understood and recited; it should also express the heartfelt sentiments of the supplicant. In reciting the daily prayers, Rabbi Shimon says that one should not make his prayers routine; rather they should express the deep emotion of the person praying. One should try to feel God’s presence.

Moreover, God reveals Himself in the Book of Genesis by two Hebrew names: Elokim and Hashem. Our Sages tell us that Elokim refers to God acting as a God of stern judgment and reason; Hashem refers to a God acting with mercy and compassion. For the world to exist, there most be a combination of justice and mercy. Just as God possesses both attributes, so too should humans. Reason without emotion is unnatural and potentially harmful.

Jonas arrives at this truth as he learns from the Giver, who we discover is not simply a repository of past memories, but a person of feeling who wants future generations to be human in the fullest sense of the word. He reminds us that life is richer and more complete if we experience the agonies and ecstasies of the human experience.

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High Noon (1952), directed by Fred Zinnemann

high-noon-posterThere have been times in my rabbinic and educational career when I tried to enlist the aid of friends to move a particular project forward. I would speak to many acquaintances, all of whom gave me warm expressions of support. But when it was crunch time, they were with me in spirit only, but not in terms of giving me dollars for my project.

I realized then that I would have to go it alone, and I often applied to foundations for funding rather than solicit individuals within the community. The experience of not successfully fundraising for a project was disappointing, but it taught me a valuable lesson echoed in The Ethics of the Fathers. There it states: “In a place where there is no man, strive to be a man.” If there is a critical project that needs to be done, and no one steps forward to help, then you should be prepared to do it yourself.

Such is the predicament of Marshall Will Kane in the classic western High Noon. The film opens as three outlaws ride into Hadleyville to meet the noon train on which is riding Frank Miller, a notorious criminal whom Kane has arrested for murder and sent to prison several years before. Now Miller has been pardoned and he is traveling to Hadleyville to settle old scores with those responsible for his incarceration.

Serendipitously, Kane is getting married to pacifist Quaker Amy Fowler that same day in the morning. At his wife’s wishes, he is leaving his position as Marshall and looking forward to a quiet time in life. The community encourages him to leave town before Miller and his men arrive, and he does. But once on the open road, he turns his buckboard around. He feels that Miller will continue to hunt him wherever he is and the townspeople, without a new marshal in town, will be defenseless against Miller and his cronies.

Kane solicits the help of the townspeople, but to no avail. He walks to the local saloon to get volunteers and they reject his overtures. He then goes to the church, interrupting the sermon, to get help. The congregants are more civil, but again he comes up empty-handed. Slowly, it dawns on him that he will have to face Miller and his henchmen alone. With that sobering thought, Kane writes a will, which he leaves in his desk drawer, to be opened in the event of his death.

When it is high noon, the train arrives and Miller gets off to meet his gang. They walk into town looking for Kane. The camera shows Marshal Kane all by himself on the deserted street. It is an iconic scene, emblematic of the formidable challenge he has to meet: one lonely man against four very bad men who want to kill him.

Jewish history has within it models of reluctant heroism and leadership, the most famous of which is Moses. He does not thirst for glory. He does not want to be the center of attention, but he eventually understands that he is the only man to lead the Jews out of slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land.

When he sees a slave being abused by an Egyptian, Moses looks “this way and that.” The Biblical commentators suggest that Moses was looking for help, for someone else to take action, but no one did. At that moment, he realized that it was up to him to act.

Will Kane in High Noon is tempted to leave town and save his own life, and he contemplates that course of action briefly. But in a moment of moral clarity, he decides to protect the community even though he must act alone. In the end, doing the right thing trumps personal considerations.

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Ushpizin (2004), directed by Gidi Dar

ushpizinA friend of mine and his wife occasionally have discussions about whom to invite for Friday night Sabbath dinners. She favors inviting old friends. He prefers inviting new faces because he wants to know those who are unknown. He prefers the unpredictability of new faces and feels that the good deed of inviting people to one’s home is better fulfilled when one does not know the guests beforehand.

Jewish tradition requires us to be hospitable, especially to those is need. Is this ethos of extending hospitality represented by inviting people we know or people we don’t know, or are there other criteria to keep in mind? The Israeli film Ushpizin, which means guests in English, suggests an approach to an answer.

It is the festival of Sukkot in Jerusalem in an ultra-orthodox neighborhood. The holidays require Jews to build a temporary shack and to live in it for seven days. There is also a commandment to wave a palm branch and a citron, together with a myrtle and willow, during the holiday liturgy. Moshe and Mali Bellanga, however, are impoverished and do not have money to buy a sukkah or to purchase the four species. And then “miracles” occur. A friend finds an abandoned sukkah for Moshe and an anonymous donor slips $1000 under their door.

These miracles, however, become tests. Moshe uses part of his money to purchase a citron at an extravagant price, upsetting his wife Mali, who wanted to use to money to pay off debts. Moshe knows that the truly happy person is the one who is content with little, yet he succumbs to his desire to acquire a citron far beyond his means when, in fact, he is not required to do so according to Jewish law.

Another test for them comes when two escaped convicts from Moshe’s past show up at this door. They apparently know Moshe from his previous life before he became religious, and Moshe and Mali debate whether they should welcome them as guests for the holiday. There are disadvantages. They are unsavory characters and their presence in the home may strain Moshe and Mali’s relationship. There will be no privacy and the guests may introduce a foreign lifestyle into their holy home. Moshe and Mali are people of deep faith, however, and they decide that these two men have been sent to them by God, creating a wonderful opportunity for Moshe and Mali to share the holidays with people less fortunate than them.

With each passing day of the holiday, the convicts bring more chaos into the Bellanga home, but Moshe and Mali continue to see each problem as a test of their religious faith. Their rabbi advises Moshe never to get angry, even when anger may seem justified. The life lesson that he imparts to him is to remain calm in the knowledge that all tests come from God. Facing a test and overcoming it refines our character and, by doing so, makes us better people.

Ushpizin depicts people living on the edge of poverty and not succumbing to negativity. Mali and Moshe do have arguments, but their different opinions do not shatter their abiding love for one another. They both recognize that whatever happens is ultimately the result of God orchestrating events from afar. Mali and Moshe always say “Thank God,” even when events seem to turn out badly. Moreover, they control their anger, allowing them to see things from the aspect of eternity. Their daily expressions of thanksgiving to God and their control of anger remind us of what it takes to truly be a holy person.

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Above and Beyond (2014), directed by Roberta Grossman

above-and-beyondA “lone soldier” home is located around the corner from me. What is a “lone soldier?” He is a volunteer who serves in the Israel Defense Forces even though he has no immediate family with him or her in Israel. Reliable sources tell us there are over 6000 of them serving in the army.

What makes someone volunteer for such service? One answer is given in the stirring documentary, Above and Beyond, which tells the story of a group of World War II pilots who, in 1948, volunteered to fight for Israel in its War of Independence. They knew that Israel was about to be attacked by its Arab neighbors and that the country might not survive the onslaught of so many powerful enemies unless it had help from others. They viewed themselves as being on the cusp of history and they were determined to do whatever they could to enable the new nation to survive. This diverse band of brothers fought in key battle theatres and laid the groundwork for the Israeli Air Force.

The narrative begins with the United Nations resolution to divide Palestine and the British decision to leave, opening up the way for an Arab conquest of the land. Into that perilous situation steps a group of volunteer Jewish American former World War II pilots who help the Jews secure planes and fly them into the line of fire, preventing the Arabs from driving the Jews out of Palestine.

What gives the film authenticity is actual footage of the original aircraft and contemporary interviews with the pilots who flew them. What is remarkable is the fact that these soldiers who survived the hazards of World War II voluntarily placed their lives in danger to help the fledgling state of Israel.

Indeed, there is a rich tradition of volunteerism in Jewish history. The basic commandment “to love your neighbor as yourself” sets the tone, encouraging all people to help one another in times of crisis. The commandment relates not just to requiring the rich to assist the poor, but includes all situations where people are in need of help. In truth, the notion of helping someone can relate to lifting his spirits as well as giving him charity. Furthermore, history records that such diverse causes as Jewish schools, burial societies, providing money for impoverished newlyweds so that they can establish their own homes, self- defense organizations, health and emergency medical centers all began under volunteer auspices.

The Talmud tractate of Sanhedrin tells us: “Whoever destroys a single life is as guilty as though he had destroyed the entire world; and whoever rescues a single life earns as much merit as though he had rescued the entire world.” This mindset energizes the American pilots who want to prevent another Holocaust. They view their rescue mission as an opportunity to make a difference in the historic destiny of the Jewish people. For them, to save one life is to save the world.

Moreover, the Ethics of the Fathers states: “If I am only for myself, what kind of person am I?” The pilots are idealistic, unselfish, and willing to take risks. This combination enables these men to defy logic and convention, to try the impossible and sometimes achieve it.

Above and Beyond provides a window into a little known but important part of Israel’s history. It informs us that most volunteers are motivated by wanting to do the right thing, not by visions of being recognized publicly or getting financial benefit. It is gratifying to watch ordinary people rise to the occasion and make mighty contributions to the Jewish people that ripple into the future. Above and Beyond reminds us that heroes are often ordinary people meeting extraordinary challenges.

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The Age of Adaline (2015), directed by Lee Toland Kreiger

age-of-adalineI am 73 years old, and since coming to Israel six years ago, I am officially a vatik, a senior citizen entitled to discounts on the bus and to reduced admissions at sundry places. Some people actually offer me their seats on public transportation. It makes me uncomfortable to be the recipient of these kindnesses and to realize that, at least in the eyes of some, I am old. I always thought the other guy was old and I was not, but that illusion is now shattered.

When I immigrated to Israel in 2010, I was automatically enrolled in a 55-plus club, no longer considered a young man. In my conversations with other members of the group, no one ever expressed to me a desire to be young again. All my new friends desired was to be healthy and not be dependent on the kindness of others, even if they were one’s own children. Moreover, the married couples seemed to enjoy growing old together. It was a time in life free of posturing or acquiring more stuff and, instead, allowing love to flow freely between spouses and parents and children and to be satisfied with little. A perfect life was simply to grow old together in good health.

 The Age of Adaline presents a unique perspective on aging. Adaline Bowman was born in 1908, married, and had a daughter. No long after her husband died in a work-related accident while building the Golden Gate Bridge, she drives to her parents’ home. Snow begins to fall, making the road hazardous. Her car crashes and a freak electrical storm ensues, creating an unusual chain reaction that causes Adaline to remain 29 years old forever.

Adaline researches her condition but cannot find clues as to why she remains young as others grow old. After being accosted and frightened by local and federal authorities, she resolves to leave San Francisco and establish a new identity every decade.

All is calm until she meets Ellis Jones, a wealthy philanthropist, at a New Year’s Eve party. She at first rejects his advances. But Ellis persists pursuing her and finally convinces her to have a date with him. At the date, Ellis reveals much about himself, but Adaline reveals little of her past. Their relationship deepens and Ellis invites her to visit his parents on the occasion of their 40th wedding anniversary.

When Ellis’ father, William, sees her for the first time, he instinctively calls her Adaline, for she reminds him of a woman with whom he had a past relationship and to whom he intended to propose marriage. Although Adaline informs him that Adaline was her mother, William is still puzzled at her stark resemblance to the love of his life so many years ago. The unraveling of the mystery of Adaline’s past and present life with William and Ellis makes us ponder the meaning of aging in our youth and old age.

The Ethics of the Fathers makes some important observations about reaching various stages of our life. The Sages tell us that at 5 years old, we should begin our study of the Bible, at 10 we should begin study of Mishna, the Oral Law, at 13 we begin to perform the commandments, at 18 we marry, at 20 we find a vocation, at 30 we are at our peak of physical strength, at 40 we understand life at a deeper level, at 50 we can give advice, and so the Sages continue until 100. At different ages, we are ready to experience different things, to develop ourselves in different ways, and to make our own unique contributions to society depending on our strength, our talents and our wisdom.

Adaline’s dilemma is that she is stuck at age 29. Life is imperfect because it stays the same. Finally, when her dilemma is serendipitously resolved, she notices a grey hair and her immediate response is “perfect.” Now she can grow old with someone she loves and now life becomes more meaningful because she experiences the phenomenon of change.

The possibility of change makes the present more precious. When we sense that life is transient, every day is cherished. When Adaline’s finally ages, it reminds us that growing old is a good thing for it makes us treasure each moment. Life now can be perfect.

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Hail, Caesar (2016), directed by Ethan and Joel Coen

hail-caesar-posterAs a high school principal, I often found myself multitasking. Professionally, I was teaching, administrating, and trying to raise money to pay salaries. Personally, I was trying to be an exemplary father and husband.

A constant challenge was to set priorities, to distinguish between the urgent from the truly important. It was not always easy to see the difference when I was dealing with an important educational issue and a salary deadline was only days away.

Seeing Eddie Mannix, the central character in Hail, Caesar, who is charged with fixing many crises in the Hollywood entertainment industry, reminded me of the many times I had to juggle many tasks at one time, each requiring a slightly different skill set and each demanding time and attention.

Hail, Caesar takes place in Hollywood during the 1950s. Eddie is charged with protecting the reputations of studio stars. Moreover, he works to solve sensitive issues related to movies that are in production or about to be produced. For example, in a Biblical epic about Christ, he consults with a Catholic priest, a Protestant clergyman, and a rabbi to insure there will be nothing that will offend any religious sensibility. Concurrently, he is working with Western cowboy star Hobie Doyle who is brought in by studio heads to star in a British comedy of manners. Here the problem is how to enable Hobie to drop his Southern drawl in favor of a British accent.

Things become more dicey when movie star Baird Whitlock, the actor playing the Roman Autolycus in the Biblical epic about Christ, is kidnapped by a group of communist screenwriters who feel that the major studios have abused them and taken advantage of them. They want Baird to champion their cause.

Baird’s abduction forces the movie to change its shooting schedule until he is found. Meanwhile, newspaper gossip columnists sense there is a story behind his disappearance and they go to Eddie to get answers. As Eddie finesses his way in giving information to the columnists, he receives word that the kidnappers are demanding a $100,000 ransom. In the midst of all this turmoil, a major corporation recruits Eddie to become a fixer for them.

Jewish law and tradition does not deal specifically with multi-tasking, but does consider two related topics: kavannah or intention, and hesech hadaat, distraction. Kavannah relates to the ability to concentrate, to focus on a present task. For example, when one is praying, one is supposed to focus on the words as he attempts to connect to the Creator. In the Talmud, there is a discussion whether we fulfill a ritual act if, in fact, we are unfocused when we do so. Many of the Sages rule that if one is unfocused during prayer, he has to recite the prayer over again.

Distraction also is a factor in multitasking. If your intention wanders during the ritual act, the act may have to be repeated. For example, Jews are required to ritually wash their hands before eating bread and then say a blessing. If there is conversation between the washing of the hands and the blessings, it is considered an interruption and one has to wash his hands a second time. Everything depends on one’s ability to concentrate no matter what the distraction.

Eddie Mannix is a master of positive multitasking. He succeeds in juggling many jobs at one time because he can shift his entire focus from one topic to another. He does not think about two things at the same time. Rather he moves from concentrating on one subject to concentrating fully on another subject in a matter of seconds. He knows that a wandering mind, an easily distracted person, is a liability to himself and others. Eddie Mannix reminds us that success comes to those who maintain focus in the midst of chaos.

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Unbroken (2014), directed by Angelina Jolie

unbroken posterFor the past several years, I have been teaching in a middle school and a high school in Israel. I have observed that in dealing with 7th and 8th graders, the students tend to be very self-absorbed, interested only in what they have to say and not paying attention to the comments of others. In the high school, I see students more respectful of each other, more willing to listen to the opinions of a peer. There I see more students sensitive to the Biblical notion of “loving your neighbor as yourself.” Just as you would want to be heard, so too should you listen to the words of your neighbor and give his comments respect even when you disagree with him.

In Jewish jurisprudence, there is discussion as to what degree we should observe this commandment of loving our neighbor as ourselves. Do we observe it even when, by doing so, we put ourselves and our interests at a disadvantage? Is there some balance between our needs and the needs of others that needs to be struck?

This moral dilemma is portrayed in a scene in Unbroken, the story of Olympic runner Louis Zamperini, an airman who, during World War II, crashed into the Pacific Ocean on a rescue mission to locate a missing aircraft. Of the eight men aboard Louie’s plane, only three survive: Louie, Phil, and Mac. The three are able to inflate a life raft, and so begins their treacherous journey on the open sea.

They have limited food; and Louis, as the take-charge guy, tells his friends that they need to limit their consumption of food so that the meager food they have will enable them to survive until they are rescued. They have only one bar of chocolate and Louie tells them that they can eat one piece in the morning and one in the evening. Mac, however, decides to eat all the chocolate.

The Talmud (Baba Metzia 62a) discusses a similar case of “lifeboat ethics.” Two people are traveling in the desert and there is a jug with only enough water for one of them to survive. There is a difference of opinion as to what course should a person take in such a moral dilemma. One sage, Ben Petura, says that it is better if both of them drink rather than have one witness the death of the other. Rabbi Akiva, however, maintains that your life should come first before the life of your friend. This moral calculus is analyzed in contemporary volumes of Jewish law that deal with the conduct of men in battle who have to make decisions that affect the health and safety of others. Unbroken does not provide simplistic answers; it only raises the question.

Louis Zamperini, a practical man, does not compromise his integrity. He does not blame Mac for taking all of the chocolate for himself. He accepts the reality of Mac’s feelings and actions and then moves on to think of new ways to acquire food in the middle of the ocean. Louie, an optimist, does not lose his focus in the face of a setback. He continues to try his best to keep everyone alive.

When he finally is rescued, only to find himself in a Japanese prisoner of war camp. he again expresses his independent spirit. He is unwilling to bend in the face of physical punishment and extreme torture designed to undermine his humanity.

Louis Zamperini survives incarceration and even forgives his enemies. Years later, we see the real Louis Zamperini as a senior citizen running with the Olympic flag. He counts his blessings and traces his survival and success in life to his faith in God, which sustained him throughout all his trials. When faced with moral conundrums, Louie chooses the high road and becomes a model for us all.

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Don’t Come Knocking (2005), directed by Wim Wenders

don't come knocking posterOccasionally I meet old friends whose life has passed them by. As young men, they seemed so full of promise. I thought they would be professional successes in adulthood with loving wives and children. Yet something happened along the way. They were barely making a living, had not married, and were a shell of their former selves.

They tried to keep up a happy façade, but I sensed an undercurrent of profound sadness beneath the superficial smile. That narrative arc permeates Don’t Come Knocking, the elegiac narrative of Howard Spence, an aging movie star who recklessly tossed away every opportunity to lead a fulfilling family and professional life.

The movie begins with Howard suddenly leaving a film shoot of his latest western, which is being filled in the Utah desert. He rides away on a horse, changes his clothes so that he will be unrecognizable, and decides to reconnect with his mother whom he has not seen for thirty years. He travels to his hometown of Elko, Nevada to see her.

In the interim, the movie company launches a search for him led by Mr. Sutter, an insurance executive determined to find Howard and return him to the set. For the moment, the production is stalled and cannot continue. Tension mounts on the set because for each day the film is delayed, there is great financial loss to the studio. Indeed, without Howard returning and completing his scenes, the director cannot wrap up the film. Sutter’s search for Howard is the subplot of Howard’s personal journey to find himself after years of behavioral excess.

Howard’s reunion with his mother, after thirty years of absence, is both touching and weird. They speak with a familiarity that suggests a loving and authentic rapport with each other, but Howard’s conversation with her seems like the tentative remarks of a teenager who has stayed out late one night. Howard is almost clueless about the mess he has made with his life until he peruses his mother’s scrapbooks, which contain newspaper accounts of Howard’s self-destructive behavior with drugs and women, his barroom brawls, and his movie debacles.

His mother informs him that he has a son in Butte, Montana. This piques Howard’s curiosity and he decides to find him. While in Butte, he meets Doreen, his old flame and the mother of Earl, his son. Both Doreen and Earl are puzzled by Howard’s return; they resent him intruding into their lives after an absence of twenty years.

Confronting his past is not easy for Howard either. His emotional malaise is captured in an iconic scene in which he sits on a couch that has been left abandoned in the middle of an empty street. Howard sits quietly while the camera pans around him from dusk to dawn. He is still, but everything around him is moving. The scene suggests that for many years he has not adapted to the changes going on around him. He cries, he reflects, he meditates, and finally begins to understand the price he has paid for his youthful folly.

How Howard tries to reconcile with Doreen and Earl makes for a compelling and, at the same time, an oblique family drama. Don’t Come Knocking does not have a neat ending, but it does intimate that even in the most extreme of circumstances, people can find a way to communicate and adjust to new emotional realities.

Howard Spence, after years of profligate living, begins to comprehend the damage he has inflicted on others by his casual attitude towards marriage and fatherhood. He cannot alter the past; but he can be wiser, at least in some small way, for the rest of his life.

There is a story told about a great nineteenth century ethicist, Rabbi Israel Salanter, who happened to be walking late one night in front of the home of a shoemaker. Rabbi Salanter observed the man was working by the light of flickering candle. He asked the shoemaker why he was laboring so late at night. He replied: “As long as the candle is still burning, it is still possible to accomplish and to mend.”

This is an insight that Howard gains through the crucible of painful human experience. He cannot change the past; but as long as he is alive, he can make connections in the present that make him relevant to lost loves and forsaken children.

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Music of the Heart (1999), directed by Wes Craven

music of the heart posterI was a mediocre high school student at A.B. Davis High School in Mt. Vernon, New York. One day when I had to turn in a book report about a book I had not read, I decided to copy a friend’s paper. I did not realize that my friend had plagiarized his paper, so my act of plagiarism was once removed from the original act. Nonetheless, I was submitting work that was not mine. My history teacher, Mr. Elman, for whom the report was written, discovered my duplicity and failed me for the course. He was very disappointed in me and I felt ashamed of what I did.

Today, I thank God that I had Mr. Elman for a teacher and that he failed me. He taught me an invaluable lesson of honesty early on in life and I am eternally grateful to him. In hindsight, I realize that getting caught was a good thing. At the time, it was an academic catastrophe, but later on I saw the good that came out of an unpleasant incident.

The notion that out of disaster good can come underpins the narrative arc of Music of the Heart, the heartwarming story of Roberta Guaspari. Roberta, a talented violinist who put aside her musical ambitions to be a loyal wife and mother, has been left fifty violins by the husband who deserted her.

Her whole life in turmoil, she seeks employment as a music teacher, but can only find work at an innercity New York school. She is hired as a sub, but slowly becomes an important player in the school’s music program, especially when she gives her students violins to play as she initiates a string program at the school. At first, parents are ambivalent about the program, but when they see the excitement in their children’s eyes, their objections to the program vanish.

The film skips to ten years later when three schools are successfully implementing Roberta’s violin program. Her grit and energy have been transmitted to her students; they are happy to be acolytes in her program, which fosters discipline and gives the students recognition within the city school system. Indeed, the program makes the kids feel important.

At the zenith of her success, another problem arises. Budgetary cuts force the program to close and Roberta is compelled to find a funding source that will enable it to continue. To solve her problem, she, together with former students, parents, and teachers, decide to stage a major fund-raising concert at the 92nd Street Y. All seems fine until, only a few weeks before the concert, they lose their coveted venue. A lay leader, impressed by Roberta’s program comes to the rescue. Her husband, Arnold Steinhardt, is a world-class violinist and he secures Carnegie Hall for the concert. Moreover, he enlists his friends, Isaac Stern, Itzhak Perlman, and Mark O’Connor, to participate in the concert with the student performers.

In the closing scene of the film, Roberta’s mother reminds her that none of the good stuff she is experiencing now would have happened had not her husband divorced her and forced her to establish herself in a new career. She transformed herself from a housewife and mother to a successful teacher and mentor to many children who passed through her classes.

Judaism never sees catastrophe as terminal. In fact, Jews traditionally say a blessing both for the good and bad that life brings them. The reason: one never knows if short-term adversity will lead ultimately to a good outcome. Indeed, when Jews were exiled from their land after the destruction of both first and second Temples, they did not despair for long. They recognized that now they had to redefine themselves as a nation without a land but bound by the Torah, the God-given law that enabled them to survive for centuries. The ability to affirm life after calamity strikes is the crux of Roberta Guaspari’s story. Music of the Heart illustrates her journey from despondency to success.

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