Vancouver Israeli Tech Club Fall Meetup keynote speaker Daniel Friedmann of communications company MDA, left, with presenters Yaron Bazaz, co-founder of the app Downtown and a VIT organizer, centre, and Meir Deutsch of IKOMED. (photo by Baila Lazarus)
If you’ve ever tried to start a business, you’ll know how crucial it is to have the proper support around you. This includes finding the right management and staff, marketing and growth strategists and, not least, connections with investors. Add to that the challenge of being an immigrant, and the hurdles seem impassable.
It was out of this need to support startups that Yaron Bazaz, Eran Elizur and Ronen Tanne launched the Vancouver Israeli Tech Club and its affiliate Meetup group one year ago. Bazaz had seen in California the models of business “ecosystems” that support the tech community.
“They provided a stage for local entrepreneurs to present their companies and expose themselves to potential investors, employees, media, etc.,” said Bazaz. “We didn’t have this in Vancouver. This type of ecosystem is 80 percent of the success. When you start a company, what you need is the first co-founder, the first investor, employees that are not necessarily looking for the hefty salary but have the entrepreneurial spirit to see your vision and are willing to participate.”
Within the Vancouver Jewish community, interest in VIT has garnered the group almost 350 members, as well as sponsorship from the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs, and the tech hub Discovery Parks.
So far, VIT has held four networking events. At its most recent, which took place in November, Bazaz presented his app – in Beta testing – called Downtown. It allows crowd-sourced data to let users know where the highest concentration of hip, good-looking young adults can be found in the downtown club scene at any given time.
Meir Deutsch, chief executive officer of IKOMED, also presented. His medical device company aims to reduce “the exposure to ionizing radiation during minimally invasive medical procedures.”
Events also include keynote speakers who are local businessmen connected to the Israeli community. At the November event, Daniel Friedmann, president and CEO of global communications company MDA, presented on MDA’s work in satellite technology and spoke about Israel’s contributions to unmanned vehicles, especially in how information-gathering has changed.
“During the Cold War, everyone knew where to look [for enemies],” he told the audience of about 200. “Today, we don’t know where the bad guys are. We don’t know where to look.”
There are also too many factors to look at, he said, and it’s impossible for any one organization to have the human-power to keep tabs. So reconnaissance crafts, such as satellites and drones, as well as the software, have to be more technically adept at recording even subtle changes on the ground.
“If the software shows us where some cars have been moved, we can detect bombs that were placed on the road overnight,” explained Friedmann.
Entrepreneur Shahar Ben Halevi has attended all of VIT’s events.
“You learn about other entrepreneurs’ journeys and lessons they have learned on their path,” he said. “You can always learn more about life, about business, about setting goals and the right mind set to get them.”
Ben Halevi, who came to Vancouver nine years ago, is the founder of Cornfield Media, which has media projects in different stages of development.
“One is an online streaming platform for children’s stories on multilingual channels,” he said. “The service allows parents and children to read the same stories in different languages.” Ben Halevi has a book on Amazon and had a short in this year’s Vancouver Jewish Film Festival.
He said he’s taken away lessons from VIT on team building, courage, being visionary and how to turn your vision into reality. “How to be happy with what you achieved and not depressed about the things that you haven’t done yet.”
Baila Lazarusis a freelance writer, painter and photographer. Her work can be seen at orchiddesigns.net.
Approximately 50 students from Richmond Jewish Day School and Az-Zahraa Islamic Academy distributed 1,000 brown bag lunches to the homeless and needy. (photo from Richmond Jewish Day School)
They huddled together to warm up on a frosty November morning, but the 50 Grade 6 and 7 students from Richmond Jewish Day School and Az-Zahraa Islamic Academy didn’t let the cold dampen their spirits. Their goal was to hand out warm clothing, blankets and 1,000 brown bag lunches to the homeless and destitute in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver. With a long line of eager recipients, their effort was completed in less than an hour.
The food, sponsored by Save-On Foods Ironwood location in Richmond, included sandwiches made a day earlier by volunteers, juice boxes and yogurt. Store manager George Clarke said he was glad to supply the $4,000 worth of food. “This started last year when the schools approached us and wanted to bring random acts of kindness to the Downtown Eastside,” he said. “We’re happy to participate and I’m really pleased to see the project continue this year.”
“I learned there are a number of homeless people here,” said Askari Mehdi, a Grade 7 student at Az-Zahraa. “We’re just a small band of kids, but it’s nice to know we can make a difference.”
With the principals of both schools and members of the RCMP closely watching the interactions, the students actively interacted and distributed the food and clothing. “If our students were nervous, it melted away with the first kind word,” said Abba Brodt, principal at RJDS. “They were so excited to do a mitzvah…. We’re excited that they had the opportunity to work with their friends at Az-Zahraa again and bring more warmth and kindness into the world. You can’t teach this type of educational experience. You have to live it.”
Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond, B.C. To read her work online, visit laurenkramer.net. This article was originally published by the Richmond Review.
On Dec. 5, Lenka Lichtenberg will perform traditional and original songs at the Rothstein Theatre, self-accompanied on piano, guitar, harmonium and percussion. (photo from lenkalichtenberg.com)
Three new CDs in three years made in three different regions of the world, garnering at least as many awards and even more nominations. Toronto-based Lenka Lichtenberg has been on creative fire. She sent the Independent greetings from Prague earlier this month, as she was preparing for a concert there, and early next month, she will be in Vancouver.
The group Art Without Borders is bringing Lichtenberg here for a Dec. 5 solo performance at the Norman and Annette Rothstein Theatre.
According to its website, the nonprofit organization has two missions: “it strives to promote an understanding and appreciation for Czech culture through the arts both within and without the Czech community” and “it endeavors to cultivate dialogue between Canada and Central Europe.”
Lichtenberg’s work certainly forms cultural connections, and it greatly expands upon the dialogue. Consider only her most recent recordings, all of which bring together top-notch musicians from around the world to create music that blends multiple languages, cultures, melodies and rhythms: Songs for the Breathing Walls (2012) with the help of many international artists, Embrace (2013) with Canadian world-music group Fray and Lullabies from Exile (2014) with Israel’s Yair Dalal.
In addition, on her website, Lichtenberg has a virtual museum that displays some of what she has discovered about her family. Born in Prague, she didn’t find out she was Jewish until she was 9 or 10 years old. “It took me awhile to learn about my roots, as my mother did not say much about it; she did not know herself,” writes Lichtenberg. “My mother, while 100 percent Jewish, was brought up a Catholic by her family who left Judaism one by one. My great-grandmother described herself as ‘without faith’ already in 1919, and my grandmother and grandfather left Judaism some three to four years later. There were no signs of Jewish roots in the households, Christmas was celebrated. Not a completely atypical Czech Jewish urban family, I believe; assimilation was widespread. Then, the Holocaust … and my family was murdered. As an adult, I began learning.
“The activities of the past 25 years of my life, since my first trip to Masada, have largely been an attempt to learn about, and honor, my heritage in ways available to me: as a Yiddish singer (picking up Yiddish as an adult) and musician, composer of music built in one way or another on Jewish traditions, and a singer of beautiful liturgy. My 2010-2012 project Songs for the Breathing Walls was the most determined milestone in my quest to honor and connect with the past – via the history of the wider Jewish community of Czech and Moravian lands.”
The album Songs for the Breathing Walls connects that past with the future, preserving traditional Hebrew liturgy and poems in contemporary arrangements that were performed live in 12 different synagogues, or buildings that were once synagogues or used as such (nine Czech and three in Moravia). The recordings were made from July 2010 through July 2011. “The journey ended in Terezin, where my mother’s family was incarcerated; for the first time, I walked in the halls of the building where my mother had lived for two and a half years,” writes Lichtenberg in the liner notes. Appropriately, the memorial prayer El Maleh Rachamim was recorded there. Several of the recordings are prayers from the Yizkor service, but they mix with an Adon Olam based by Dalal on a melody of Babylonian Jews, an Avinu Malkeinu arranged by Lichtenberg and other holiday or weekday prayers.
Mourning and hope, sadness and joy cohabitate easily in this beautiful, moving and meaningful recording, the idea for which came to Lichtenberg in 2009. Performing on consecutive days in synagogues in Plzen and in Liberec, she noticed a difference in sound, ambience and feeling, “a unique character stemming from something deeper than mere acoustics … perhaps something left behind by those who built these structures and filled them with their lives.” Her hope is that, in listening to Songs for the Breathing Walls, people “will be able to hear the ‘breathing walls’ as well, embracing those who lived among them, love, suffered, prayed for peace. Perhaps then, their memory will live on….”
In all of Lichtenberg’s music, the memory and traditions of those who have lived before can be heard – they are celebrated, and merge with the memories, traditions and passions of Lichtenberg and the artists with whom she collaborates. A completely different mood infuses Embrace than Songs for the Breathing Walls, yet it too crosses temporal, cultural and geographic borders. Recorded in Toronto with Fray, co-led by percussionist Alan Hetherington, Embrace features lyrics inspired by religious texts, folk tales, poems, family and friends, with melodies rooted in the Middle East, North America, South America and India.
Lichtenberg is at home in many languages and musical styles, and every release highlights her talents, and those of the musicians with which she works, Lullabies from Exile being another example. It is one of the most distinctive collections of lullabies you’ll ever hear. With songs recorded in Israel, Canada and Czech Republic, it brings together Babylonian and Yiddish music, songs sung to Dalal and Lichtenberg by their mothers, literally intertwining them in eight medleys, each arranged from a song from each of their traditions.
As explained on Dalal’s website, the collaboration on this CD “was born before a joint concert in Kosice, Slovakia, when Lichtenberg played the album’s opening lullaby, ‘Yankele,’ for Dalal to see if he could accompany her on oud. Soon, Dalal was playing an Iraqi lullaby from his childhood [‘Wien Ya Galub’] that connected to Lichtenberg’s Yiddish song with a remarkably natural intuition…. While most of these lullabies are in Judeo-Iraqi Arabic and Yiddish, the concept grew to include songs in Czech, Slovak and Hebrew in order to reflect the artists’ personal histories, as well as English, to acknowledge the experience of the English-speaking Diaspora.” The CD also includes two non-medleys.
When the Jewish Independent first interviewed Lichtenberg (“Eclectic Jewish music,” Dec. 15, 2006), it was about her third CD, Pashtes/Simplicity, a collaboration with Brian Katz, in which she set the Yiddish poetry of Simcha Simchovitch to Jewish, jazz, Brazilian and other melodies. Having performed previously “in lounges, bars, in a rock band, more bars, and a cruise line,” she explained what she realized in Israel: “… I needed to change my direction and truly embrace my roots, my identity, which at that time was barely visible. I decided to ‘do Jewish.’ Being a musician, it meant dropping the kind of music I made my living with up to then in Canada and starting from scratch as a Jewish singer…. I concentrated on Yiddish, as I felt it would be closer to my true identity than Hebrew, even though my family, my mom and grandma, Holocaust survivors, didn’t speak a word of Yiddish. [They were] totally assimilated, as [were] most Czech Jews.” Lichtenberg, who had also been studying cantorial music for several years by 2006, described her experience with Jewish music as being “a growing process.”
While it is tempting, having listened to these latest recordings, to say that Lichtenberg’s Jewish music is all grown up, so to speak, written and performed with a confidence and skill that is remarkable, she seems like someone who will continually push herself to keep growing, experimenting in each new project. And, of course, she has several on the go. For more information about Lichtenberg, visit lenkalichtenberg.com. For tickets to her Dec. 5, 8 p.m., solo concert at the Rothstein Theatre, visit arwibo.org ($25) or the theatre box office at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver ($28).
This year, Isaac Waldman Jewish Public Library’s annual used book sale takes place Nov. 23-27 at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver. (photo from IWJPL)
For many of us, the Isaac Waldman Jewish Public Library is the go-to place when looking for that irresistible book to read. It’s also where we search for that compelling DVD on Jewish culture that other libraries are unlikely to carry. It’s the place where unique book launches are held, where we might send our kids (or ourselves) for Hebrew lessons and where there are discussions on Israeli politics, Jewish culture or Yiddish literature just about any day.
This month, the library revisits another tradition, with its annual book sale Nov. 23-27, 10 a.m. to 9 p.m., at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver (concurrently with the Cherie Smith JCCGV Jewish Book Festival). The five-day event has been going on for almost 20 years and has become iconic for the library and its many patrons, said Waldman librarian Helen Pinsky.
“We sell literally thousands of books during that time,” she said. This year’s event will be no different. The library, with the help of volunteers, has been busily unpacking and cataloguing books that have been donated to them by patrons around the city.
“Some books come from the library because we have to keep everything circulating,” Pinsky explained. Older books that may no longer be read as frequently become great candidates for the sale, along with those that are donated by families and organizations. “We have assisted many, many people in downsizing.”
She added, “People wait for this event from year to year and tell us that this is one of the highlights of their book-buying.” Customers include not just members of the Jewish community, but many people from other Lower Mainland communities who rely on the sale for Judaic literature. “We also have a very huge following among the Christian community – people who know about it, and come in … to collect books that are valuable to them.”
And the money that’s raised is important, said Pinsky, who explained that many of the library’s financial engines are run on what is gained from the sale. Book purchases, operational costs and special presentations at the library all succeed, in part, because of the generosity of donors and the support of volunteers. “We have always relied on it as a very stable source of raising funds,” she said.
One of the benefactors of the sale is the library’s speakers series, which routinely hosts presenters from a wide variety of backgrounds. Pinsky said the library considers hosting presentations on the Holocaust and the experiences of concentration camp survivors to be one of its more important missions.
“We have been very conscious of [the need] lately, because the last of the survivors are coming to the ends of their lives,” she said. The library has previously featured presentations by local survivors and others who have wanted to share their stories. The book launches have often featured stories of individuals who have dedicated their lives to teaching younger generations. She said the library strives to offer “the kind of information that will help the community to constantly remember” the effects that the Shoah left in its wake.
Most of the library staff is volunteers. Pinsky said their service is essential not only to a smooth-running facility, but to the success of the book sale. Hannah Frankel, who unpacks and catalogues the donations, has been volunteering her time for four or five years. She said the popularity of the sale can be seen in the volume and quality of the donations. Just weeks before the event, donations were still arriving “in the hundreds.”
Frankel speculated that most of the donations are the result of “word of mouth” advertising. “People seem to know we exist,” she said simply.
For Frankel, ensuring that Vancouver has a strong and vibrant library is a large part of why she volunteers her time for the sale. “I just think it is important for the Jewish community to have a Jewish library,” she said.
Jan Lee’s articles have been published in B’nai B’rith Magazine, thedailyrabbi.com and Voices of Conservative and Masorti Judaism. She also writes on sustainable business practices for TriplePundit.com. Her blog can be found at multiculturaljew.polestarpassages.com.
Left to right, Boni Putera, Titi Juwariyah and Bambang “Ho” Mulyono are the charismatic musicians at the heart of Daniel Ziv’s (inset) documentary Jalanan. (photo from jalananmovie.com)
Daniel Ziv’s first feature-length documentary, the multiple-award-winning Jalanan (Streetside), tells the uplifting, engaging story of three musicians who are part of a bustling street scene in Jakarta: Boni Putera, Bambang “Ho” Mulyono and Titi Juwariyah. Instead of playing on street corners, these captivating and charismatic buskers board city buses, transforming ordinary commutes into musical, spiritual and political journeys through Indonesia’s capital, a mega city of 10 million.
Ziv, who was raised in Vancouver, spoke with the Independent by email after the Vancouver International Film Festival, where Jalanan had its North American première. An author and political commentator, Ziv has lived in Indonesia since 1999.
JI: How did you get started with filmmaking and how did you come to this project in particular?
DZ:Jalanan is my first film, and I never intended to be a filmmaker. Rather, the amazing story of these Jakarta street buskers, and how I felt that story, could illuminate so much about Indonesia as a society, and even globalization, sort of appeared in front of me and kept lingering there until I felt it needed to be told. Since the tale naturally contained so much music and energy and movement across this gritty urban space, I felt that film would be the right medium. So, I spent awhile getting to know the tools, and then learned through trial and error. Although filmmaking skills would have come in handy, I still believe that having a good story and good access are what really make a strong documentary. No degree of technical wizardry can replace those things.
JI: How were Boni, Ho and Titi chosen as the protagonists? Were there security concerns?
DZ: I knew that for the film to work, to really grab the attention and win the hearts of viewers, I needed strong lead characters – people with charm and charisma and agency, people with something to say about life. When I met Boni, Ho and Titi, I knew in each case that they would stand out as colorful individuals that viewers would be happy to spend two hours with in a theatre, or a few days with on the street, or even five years, as I did. They weren’t the archetypical victims that poor people are so often made out to be in social documentaries. They took control of their own fate, and they were fun to be with. And, of course, I looked for buskers with some musical talent and, more importantly, who composed their own songs and lyrics, which in turn reflected their condition. This added a whole other narrative device to the film that wouldn’t be there if it was just people talking into a camera.
In terms of safety, there actually weren’t really any issues. People assume since Jakarta is an enormous, chaotic, unruly, corrupt city, that it’s also somehow dangerous, but it’s not…. I spent five years shooting the film, totally exposed in some of the poorest parts of the city, carrying perhaps $10,000 worth of camera and sound equipment on me, yet I was never once harassed or mugged or even pickpocketed. I think if you’re at ease with your environment, the environment accepts you, but, of course, it helped that I’m fluent in Indonesian and that people knew I was with Boni, Ho and Titi. It provided me with a kind of street cred and belonging. I wasn’t some tourist leering in.
JI: What attracted you to Indonesia?
DZ: I didn’t plan any of this. I discovered Indonesia as a young backpacker in the early ’90s and was captivated by the country and its people, and then just kept going back. I did an MA in Southeast Asian studies and began a PhD in Indonesian politics, which is what moved me to Jakarta in 1999 for a year of field research. Then, I just got drawn into the dynamic changes that were happening to Indonesia at that time and into some irresistible job opportunities ranging from journalism and humanitarian aid work to book writing and filmmaking. And I got to work with the most amazing people, many of whom were the next generation of Indonesian artists and politicians and media personalities and social entrepreneurs. All of this has added up to a pretty fascinating career and life, but I also feel it’s been the result of deliberate choices: I didn’t opt for a safe, conventional path; I didn’t care about pedigree or official titles or big salaries. I only chose jobs that were truly meaningful.
JI: What were the challenges (rewards) of working on this project?
DZ: I guess the thing that is both the most challenging and rewarding is the intense experience of dreaming something up out of nothing, having the chutzpah and persistence to think you can create something that comes from inside you that wasn’t there before, and that it can actually find an audience and resonate with others…. [W]hen you make a film like this, that contains so much of your own experience and sensibility and sweat and tears, it’s really scary to wrap it up and then just watch the lights dim in a packed theatre and wonder if it will even work, if your vision and story will connect with people from a totally different culture and experience. And, when it does, it’s truly exhilarating.
JI: The response to the film has been positive. What’s that been like?
Jalanan is Daniel Ziv’s first film. (photo from jalananmovie.com)
DZ: Of course, it’s immensely gratifying. My greatest fear after all the hard years of work was that it would just go nowhere … but the opposite has happened, and the film’s political and social impact in Indonesia in particular has been incredible. Jalanan captured the imagination of the public and the media, and contributed to concrete policy changes at the highest level of government, which is something none of us dreamed of.
Boni, Ho and Titi are now mini-celebrities in Indonesia, so, of course, it’s been amazing for three marginalized individuals to be publicly acknowledged in that way and to become role models within their community.
JI: Boni, Titi and Ho have multiple challenges, but they seem to be living satisfying lives. Are there lessons for those of us who, by many accounts, have more privilege or opportunity?
DZ: Certainly. But I’ve always been averse to simplistic, clichéd responses like “If poor people aren’t complaining, who are we to be discontent with our lives?” I mean, of course it’s important to recognize that we have privileged lives, but I think anyone’s pain or challenges are independently valid and very real. Having money and comfort doesn’t immunize us from pain, and being dirt poor doesn’t deny them immense joy. This is why it was so important for me to not let Jalanan become an exercise in finger waving or audience guilt. In fact, what I think many viewers respond to most is not how different they are than Boni, Ho and Titi, but how much of ourselves we see in them, and them in us. I think poverty needs to be de-fetishized and dealt with at face value, and poor people need to be seen as our friends and equals, rather than as objects to be analyzed or pitied. I know they prefer it that way.
JI: Are you still in touch with Boni, Ho and Titi?
DZ: We are close friends, and in almost daily contact. They are doing well, and enjoying a whole slew of new opportunities opening up to them as a result of the exposure from the film, but … they are still members of Jakarta’s marginalized poor, they are vulnerable and face multiple challenges. This is why I’ve started up a fundraising campaign that aims to buy each of them a small, humble house in a simple Jakarta neighborhood, something that will put a roof over their heads for life (details at jalananmovie.com/housingfund).
JI: I read an article in which you said that the buskers “were really just the lens through which we could manage a far bigger, more complex view of the country today.” Can you expand on that? Why do you think it took an expat to make an Indonesian film that had such global appeal?
DZ: That’s a great question. My interest from the start was in trying to understand, and hopefully shedding light on, Indonesia. I don’t think there’d have been anything inherently fascinating or important in a film that merely focuses on street busking, so my agenda was to probe deeper and treat my protagonists as a kind of microcosm for the country at this really fascinating juncture in time.
I’m not convinced an Indonesian couldn’t have made this film and, strangely, quite a few reviewers in Jakarta remarked that Jalanan feels “like a totally Indonesian film” rather than a documentary shot by a foreigner…. But this is probably because I created the space for Boni, Ho and Titi to tell their own very Indonesian story in their own voices and perspectives, and left space for my very talented Indonesian editor, Ernest Hariyanto, to lend his local sensibility to the cut. My goal was to open a window on to Indonesia, not to interpret it in my own image.
JI: Were you raised in a Jewish environment and, if yes, did it affect your choice of profession or other aspects of your life/filmmaking?
DZ: It’s probably fair to say my choice of profession was despite my Vancouver Jewish environment, not because of it. I grew up surrounded by a community of lawyers and doctors and academics and business folks, and most of my childhood friends didn’t stray far from that. I was lucky to have parents who secretly admired the creative and adventurous tendencies my sisters and I harbored.
One of my sisters became a ceramic artist and urban heritage expert; my other sister is a professional chef and musician. Our parents never pushed us toward establishment careers. They taught us a love for travel and culture, and that it was more important to lead an interesting life than a safe one. They probably got more than they bargained for in my case, and lament the fact that I live halfway across the world, but I doubt they’d be any happier if I were a senior partner at a downtown law firm. And, I dare say, they seemed pretty proud when the lights came on at the end of our screening … at VIFF.
Basya Layeis a Vancouver freelance writer and former editor of the Jewish Independent.
Bron Studios has won multiple awards for its work. (bronstudios.com screenshot)
Aaron L. Gilbert had every reason to be smiling broadly at the Toronto International Film Festival in September. The Burnaby-based producer had three film screenings: Welcome to Me (starring Kristen Wiig and Tim Robbins); Kill Me Three Times (starring Simon Pegg) and Miss Julie (starring Jessica Chastain and Colin Farrell).
“This is one of the top three most prestigious film festivals in the world, rivaling Cannes in terms of its importance to our industry,” Gilbert said. “Having three there was pretty exciting. It’s tough to get in, it’s an honor to be there and it’s a wonderful launching ground to create awareness of your film.”
As a result of the TIFF screenings, all three of Gilbert’s films are closing deals with American distributors. Welcome to Me (which also screened at the Vancouver International Film Festival to rave reviews) will be released in March, and the other two are also likely to be on the big screen in the United States and Canada over the next year, he said.
Aaron L. Gilbert (photo from bronstudios.com)
The 42-year-old from London, Ont., was studying at McMaster University when he had an opportunity to work in the music industry in 1993. That changed his life track, and Gilbert found himself moving between Vancouver and Los Angeles doing music management, managing artists and handling the international licensing of music. He credits his passion for the arts to his parents, Gloria and Joseph Gilbert.
“We’ve always been a family where the arts was important,” he reflected. “My parents introduced me and my siblings to theatre and music and gave us an opportunity to see and do a lot of things. Today, my brother and sister are also active in theatre and arts, and our love for it comes from the introduction our parents gave us as kids.”
Today, Gilbert is managing director of Bron Studios in Burnaby, which he co-founded with his wife Brenda in 2010, and where he wears many different hats. “Financially, I’m involved in putting the different pieces together for our films and with production partners, but I’m also very involved in all creative elements, such as finding a script, working on it and developing it, and selecting editors, directors of photography, talent agents, managers, casting directors and marketing people,” he explained.
Bron Studios specializes in live action and animation, and the tremendous talent pool in Vancouver’s animation industry makes this an excellent place to be, he said. “There’s a very mature film and TV industry here, and tremendous incentives for tax and government support for the animation industry in Vancouver, but it’s also about quality of life. I love the proximity to L.A. that Vancouver gives me and I often fly into L.A. for the day. This is as close to L.A. as I want to be!”
In the last few years, Gilbert has worked with Olivia Wilde, Will Ferrell, Helen Hunt, Jennifer Hudson and Julianne Moore, among many other Hollywood actors. “I’ve met such incredible, talented people, and to watch them perform just blows my mind,” he admitted. “I’m often astonished by how down-to-earth the actors are and, in many cases, we become friends. Will Ferrell, for example, is an incredible guy in addition to being crazy talented.”
Gilbert is actively working on several projects, one of them based on an original play about the inner workings of a Jewish family. Being Jewish certainly influences his decisions and the kinds of material he’s attracted to, he said. “My parents have always been so active in the Jewish community and that’s part of who I am and how I live my life, overall. I’m not in synagogue every Saturday, but I’m Jewish and culturally aware, and I know my roots. I’m definitely attracted to real-life stories about how Jews live in our existing world.”
Gilbert is also particularly attracted to films containing serious thematic material. “A lot of films I’ve done cover difficult subject matters in ways that can be accepted by wider audiences,” he explained. Welcome to Me, for example, is about a woman who is bipolar, while Decoding Annie Parker (2013) deals with breast cancer and heredity. “We want to approach difficult subject matters in a way that can be entertaining, but never preachy, to our audiences.”
Recently, he partnered with Niv Fichman of Rhombus Media on the psychological drama Into the Forest, from Canadian writer/director Patricia Rozema. And, in October, he was in Shreveport, La., working on I Saw the Light, a Hank Williams biopic, in partnership with Brett Ratner.
Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond, B.C. To read her work online, visit laurenkramer.net. This article was originally published on cjnews.com.
Israel’s Knesset gave preliminary approval to a bill that would make it illegal to distribute free newspapers. On the face, it seems an odd move. Why prevent the (literally) free circulation of ideas? On principle, it is worse. Democratic governments should not be getting involved in who can print news and how much they must charge to distribute it.
A nearly identical bill was defeated in 2010, and the target of both bills is Israel Hayom, a free-distribution newspaper that is owned by Sheldon Adelson, the mega-rich American casino owner and right-wing funder. Israel Hayom has shaken up Israel’s media and political scene, recently becoming the country’s most-read (or, at the very least, most-printed) newspaper. Critics see the paper as a shill for Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu and causes associated with the political right.
The Labor party MK who initiated the bill puts it another way.
“This is a bill in favor of pluralism and multiple opinions,” said Eitan Cabel, according to JTA. “It is a battle so that, in a few years, we do not become a country with only one newspaper. Sheldon Adelson wants to bury a market that is fighting for its life. Israel Hayom does not exist because of its success as a newspaper but because of the hundreds of millions in gambling funds that are funneled to it from overseas. Does anyone in this room honestly think that this is how a model for a normal newspaper looks? That this is how fair competition looks?” He assured the public, Israel Hayom “will continue to be published after the law comes into effect, and can even be sold for a symbolic price.”
He is certainly correct that print media is fighting for its life, and he is likewise correct in his implication that print media plays a crucial role in the diversity of ideas and information. But he is wrong to condemn the business model Adelson has employed. For one thing, in an ostensibly free market (society), the government should not be making arbitrary judgments about how a business funds its operations, even when that business is one as vital as the news industry, whose freedom is integral to the health of democracy.
The recent bill “would ban distribution of a free daily newspaper that is published six days a week and has at least 30 pages on weekdays and 100 pages in its weekend edition. The bill allows free distribution only for six months.” According to the Jerusalem Post, the text of the bill claims it seeks to “strengthen written journalism in Israel and ensure equal and fair conditions of competition between newspapers,” but the bill is impotent, its rules easy to circumvent. Even if they weren’t, the drowning out of voices is not the way to increase competition and free speech.
There are many threats to traditional newspapers – the internet chief among them and, if that hasn’t bled print dry yet, then neither will Israel Hayom.
A robust democracy requires a chorus of competing ideas and free-flowing public discourse – and not just for the sake of freedom. It is only on such a path that we can hope to find solutions to the problems we face, from poverty and illness to what form our news media takes.
Likud MK Moshe Feiglin probably summed it up most succinctly. “What is this?” he asked. “Since when do parliaments close newspapers? Are we Bolsheviks?”
It is heartening to see that, according to the Jewish Press, 77 percent of Israelis oppose the bill. Banning newspapers is not the way to save newspapers. Let’s hope that after the second or third reading, this bill ends up in the Knesset’s recycling bin.
Even if you’re not a fan of opera, you may have heard about the worldwide dust-up over the recent staging by the New York Metropolitan Opera of The Death of Klinghoffer by John Adams, an eminent American composer. (The opera closed Nov. 15.)
The opera is based on the 1985 hijacking of a Mediterranean cruise ship, the Achille Lauro, by Palestinian terrorists demanding the release of their allies from Israeli jails. Tragically, one of the passengers, a retired Jewish American named Leon Klinghoffer, was murdered and tossed overboard, along with his wheelchair.
Since its debut in 1991, the opera has aroused condemnation by some who claim that the opera merely glorifies antisemitism and Palestinian terrorism. On Oct. 20, a few hundred people protested outside the Met, led by politicians such as Rudy Giuliani, a former New York mayor. One Jewish leader spoke of protesting “until the set is burned to the ground.” Under censorship pressure, performances of The Death of Klinghoffer have been relatively rare since 1991, and the Met decided to cancel its usual cinecast to movie theatres.
The Klinghoffers’ daughters continue to condemn the opera, as they believe it “rationalizes, romanticizes and legitimizes the terrorist murder of our father…. Terrorism cannot be rationalized. It cannot be understood.”
What’s the cause of the condemnation? The opera begins with a chorus of exiled Palestinians that acknowledges the forcible eviction of Palestinian Arabs in 1948: “Of that house not a wall was left to stand / Israel laid all to waste.” (This is followed, though, by a chorus of exiled Jews, which acknowledges Jewish suffering in the Holocaust, and the great sense of hope accompanying a return to the Holy Land.) Later, one of the hijackers briefly mouths antisemitic comments about Jews getting fat off poor people, and criticizes both British and American society: “America is one big Jew.”
However, Adams’ opera (with a libretto by Alice Goodman, who was raised a Reform Jew) has been widely hailed as a fine work of art. For example, on Oct. 21, Anthony Tommasini, the respected New York Times music reviewer, called Adams’ opera “a searching, spiritual and humane work.”
… those who consider this opera as an opinion-editorial or a speech are missing the point of a work of art that has despair, solitude and love at its core….
I am in sympathy with Tommasini. I’ve carefully watched the London Symphony Orchestra production on DVD, winner of the Prix Italia, and found the opera to be powerful, spiritual, lyric – and not a screed against Jews or Israel. There’s an attempt at balance in recalling the background of the conflict that on the whole succeeds, and a rather profound exploration of the roots of a common sense of exile, despair and misery in the Mideast. Adams himself has noted that the “situation … is much too complex to fall into one easy answer or another.” In any case, those who consider this opera as an opinion-editorial or a speech are missing the point of a work of art that has despair, solitude and love at its core – like most operas, “a song of love and death,” in the words of Peter Conrad, an opera scholar.
It seems to me there are three key points, above and beyond the obvious one that censorship of art is virtually always wrong, and is a familiar tactic of totalitarian states.
First, the opera does not romanticize or legitimize the hijackers. While there are some fleeting complexities attributed to one or two of them, which is to the credit of the work, they are portrayed as brutal, hysterical thugs on the boat – “punks” as Mrs. Klinghoffer calls them. When the ship’s captain suggests to the most articulate hijacker that he speak to his enemies of his misery, the hijacker demurs and posits death as the only outcome. Palestinian activists assault and pour acid on the face of a young Arab woman who is deemed too Western.
Certainly, the boat’s bystanders are not the mortal core. One Swiss grandmother with her grandson in tow comments with satisfaction, “At least we are not Jews.”
Actually, the moral core of the opera – the heroes, if one can use that term – is the Klinghoffers. Leon delivers a brave, outspoken speech against terrorism to one of the hijackers, condemning those who would throw gasoline around a loaded bus and burn it. His wife’s eloquent lament that ends the opera is a tribute to the love and resistance to evil of ordinary people.
Second, as with other art works, the portrayal of a character’s attitudes, declarations or motivations is not an endorsement of these. In Ulysses by James Joyce, for example, a repugnant Irish nationalist is given outrageous lines against Jews, but Joyce obviously meant these words to express his disgust with such bigotry. Joyce’s Jew Leopold Bloom rather abashedly follows with his condemnation of hate and injustice.
Third, the idea that “terrorism … cannot be understood” leaves me uneasy. For example, to analyze and to understand Nazism is not to condone or accept it. Our understanding of bigotry and evil has come a long way since the early 1960s with the thousands of works by scholars on Nazism and the Holocaust. In the words of two Holocaust scholars, “We must look into the abyss to look beyond it” (Robert Lifton); “Explaining is not excusing; understanding is not forgiving” (Christopher Browning). If people come away from the opera with insights into what Adams calls the complexities, all the better.
In the end, the opera shows us that in a sense we are all in the same boat, whether it be the Achille Lauro or a larger craft. We share a pervasive sense of isolation, exile and despair that perhaps can be mitigated by the humble love of which Mrs. Klinghoffer sings.
Goodman’s libretto includes the point that “Islamic fundamentalism flourishes in a climate of despair.” She has the captain of the ship observe the “comprehensive solitude” of the characters on the boat. “Evil grows exponentially…. Violence speaks a single long sentence inflicted and endured in hell by those who have despaired.” Given the two solitudes, sadly, there’s more than enough despair to go around among the many peoples of the Middle East.
Gene Homelteaches liberal studies at the B.C. Institute of Technology, including a course on the Holocaust. He holds a PhD from the University of Toronto, and has published numerous articles on history, politics and culture.
