There is a perverse irony in commemoration of the dead in the Holocaust with little attention to the survivors and the resistance, especially the Jewish resistance. Its immensity can’t be underestimated and it is a story that needs to be told. We all know these iconic images of Jews in the Holocaust and those are important but we have come to accept them as the only images and that needs revision.
This is not the story of Jews trying to stay alive in concentration camps. This is the story of Jews who were lucky enough to have the chance to fight back. Tuvia Bielski does not just have a gun — he is played by James Bond himself, Daniel Craig.
When the Bielski parents are killed by the Nazis, the three brothers hide out in the woods. In addition to Tuvia there is Zus (Liev Schreiber) and the youngest, Asael (Jamie Bell of “Billy Elliot”). Over time, other escapees ask for their protection and they are faced with the wrenching choice between turning away those who are old or ill or putting the entire group at risk by taking on people who were not strong enough to help them or quick enough to keep out of sight. They have to make other choices, too. The Russian army will give them some minimal protection but only if they will join forces and devote their energy to fighting the Nazis, just just hiding from them. Zus joins them but Tuvia stays on to take care of the people who are not capable of fighting.
The natural world of the forest is for the escapees a sort of Arden where many things are turned upside down. Back in the village, social status depended on class, profession, education, devotion to religious study and ritual. The Bielskis had none of these. In the forest, status depends on the ability to survive in the forest, including the ability to find a balance between asking and telling everyone what to do. Tuvia falls somewhere between achieving greatness and having it thrust upon him. He never wanted to be a leader; he certainly never wanted everyone to depend on him. And most of all, he never wanted to make the tragic choices he must make, to have to find out that he is a person capable of killing and of moral compromise.
Bob Hope would have turned 106 this week, and his birthday and the upcoming Father’s Day reminded me of one of my favorite of his films. It’s also one of the least characteristic because he is playing a real-life character (as he would again two years later in “Beau James”) and even though the character was a performer and he does manage to get off some wisecracks, it is as close to a dramatic performance as he ever gave. He also said that the dance number was the hardest work he ever did, because he had to keep up with James Cagney reprising his portrayal of George M. Cohan of “Yankee Doodle Dandy.”
Hope plays Eddie Foy, Sr., a vaudevillian whose only way to care for his seven children is to put them into his act and take them on the road. The fact that he barely knew the kids was of no more relevance than the fact that they had no talent.
Foy, as played by Hope, was not a great father. But he was devoted to his children in his own way, and I have special affection for this film. A couple of other points worth noting: fans of the old “Father Knows Best” series will recognize Billy Gray as one of the kids. And take a look at “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” too — you will see the real-life Eddie Foy, Jr. appearing as his father opposite James Cagney as his long-time friendly rival Cohan, and as the bookie in “Bells are Ringing.”
A Plumm Summer had a limited release in 2007 but is now widely available for the first time with this week’s DVD. It is based on the real-life story of a “kidnapped” puppet from a local children’s program in Montana that became a national news story and a case for the FBI.
I was lucky to get a chance to interview one of the stars of the film, Brenda Strong.
What made you want to be a part of this movie?
What appealed to me was family-friendly, heart-warming movie with no CGI, just a good, old-fashioned story. I had a 10 year old son and I was tired of telling him I was in a movie he could not see. I wanted to make a movie where he could be part of the filming process and be on the set and tell his friends to go see when it was done. I wanted to do something for my family. And then I saw who was involved. Henry Winkler and I had done another kid-friendly film and really got along — that cemented it.
I have heard that he is a wonderful guy.
He’s just a walking heart. He exudes love wherever he goes. Years ago when he was still in “Happy Days” my husband walked up to him and he was so warm. He is still the same. If someone recognizes him he gets up and shakes their hand, always treats everyone with such respect and honor. A lot of people can learn from that. It is so nice to see someone hold space in that way.
This is a true story?
It is based on a true story, a triumphant tale of these two brothers who meet a new friend and then like the Hardy Boys become involved in a mystery when a marionette much in the same vein as Howdy Doody is kidnapped from a popular local television show. There really was a Froggy-Doo character on television in Montana, and the host was Happy Herb. And Froggy-Doo really was puppet-napped by some people who thought they would get some money out of Herb. It became a national case and J. Edgar Hoover sent out some feds to investigate! We actually had the original Happy Herb and Froggy-Doo on the set with us, it was really magical. Whenever you go to a more rural environment, there’s an essence of innocence that resonates. That was part of what made it a magical shoot before during and after. The thing that I’m really looking forward to in the DVD is the deleted scenes and gag reel. Even if they have seen the movie they should definitely get the DVD because of all the extras.
Why is it so hard to get Hollywood to make movies for this age group?
They underestimate the intelligence of kids. We get animation for little kids and CGI for middle schoolers. What we’re missing right now are stories that engage the imagination from a character point of view, stories that can help them start to build their value system. When the character of Elliot has to jump off the bridge, it is a huge character choice, because he was scared but he knew how important it was to his brother. And he has to stand up to his father, too. These choices are threaded throughout the story, things kids need to see and feel. Animation is one thing but kids relate on a much more visceral level to the real thing.
Steve Lopez thought maybe he would get a column out of the homeless man who was playing a violin with only two strings. He did get a column, and then more, and then a book, a friend, a lot of complications, an education, and a cause. The man he saw on the street was Nathaniel Ayers. The book is called The Soloist: A Lost Dream, an Unlikely Friendship, and the Redemptive Power of Music. And now the story of Lopez and Ayers is a movie starring Robert Downey, Jr. and Jamie Foxx.
I spoke to Lopez in a little coffee shop on Capitol Hill, just before his meeting with Hill staff to talk about mental health policy.
Why does our society do so poorly in helping people who are mentally ill?
There is a “There but for the grace of God” aspect to it, “This could have been me.” It is so easy to look past somebody, to wrap yourself in the generalizations and stereotypes — they might all be dangerous, they might all be capable of lashing out. But it is not a decision. These are our brothers, sisters, sons, daughters. As you go through this population you see that mental illness does not discriminate on the basis of race or income. It is cruel and unrelenting but people can be helped.
What do you hope to accomplish with this book and movie?
I want people to ask, “How does this exist in American society?” The mentally ill are shoved off into this human corral, out of sight, out of mind. Would we do this with cancer or muscular dystrophy? The answer is clearly no. The reason places like Skid Row exist is the stigma of mental illness. I hope this story shines a light on that and addresses some public policy issues.
Tell me about Nathaniel Ayers.
He was not typical but relatively normal. He grew up in Cleveland. A woman recently brought me a photo of him when he was very young, before the breakdown, just charming. You see the photo before the fall, there’s such hope in his eyes, a great future in front of him, passion for music, a great kid in a good family with a mother who had him mind his manners and go to piano class and get good grades, He gets whacked with this just as his career is about to take off. He was a former classmate of Yo Yo Ma.
How aware is he of his illness? Enough to help in his treatment?
Nathaniel has insight issues. There are times when he is very much aware of his own condition and times when he is not. In some ways he has it made. He found out his purpose in life and has everything he needs.
What have you learned from him?
I found him on the street and wanted to help him get him out of his situation. My life was hectic and frantic. He forced me to reconsider the definitions of success and happiness. In some ways this is a story about a man who has lost everything but has a purpose in life that those of us who are considered successful would envy. A change comes over him when he is with the music. He is more coherent and sane. It could be the science and math of it — he sees and hears things we don’t and it is hard to process all the signals, but the notes are in the same place they have been for 200 years. The world can be so terrifying for people who have schizophrenia. So you build a cocoon, a tin foil hat, or something. In Nathaniel’s case he will do his scrawlings. In that safe cocoon of his, music is the medicine, it is what keeps him whole.
I don’t think “What a wonderful life,” I just think most people do not have his purpose, joy, and passion. For me, journalism had become such a negative experience because we sit around newsrooms grousing about the good old days. Seeing Nathaniel made me realize I do not want to spend the last days of my career grousing about what used to be. I heard about an opening in California for a media person for mental health services, thought about doing that, and then decided I could find my purpose by continuing to write. I realize I’m working on the story of my life. It is not only the human drama but he’s helping me and giving me a chance to shine a light on our public policy failures. I am a storyteller, and that is my passion, equal to Nathaniel’s. It would be foolish to give it up. There are other ways to tell stories, and this new movie is one of them. So now I still write but I savor it a little bit more knowing it is what I chose to do. Nathaniel has made me feel much more grateful and devoted.
What were your disappointments or frustrations? In the book you talk about how you felt when he lashed out at you.
I felt very conflicted when despite my best efforts the condition was more powerful, bigger, more relentless than I was. It wasn’t Nathaniel, it was the condition. But how much patience do you have? I understand how families throw their hands up. You ask, “Can I sacrifice all this time for no guarantee of making a difference?” I know and admire and love him too much to turn back. Recovery is not linear, you slide a lot. Nathaniel has been in an apartment for three years. He has a girlfriend, he comes to concerts. Before, he didn’t consider himself worthy enough to see a concert. He would say, “People should not have to sit next to me.” But he now goes himself sometimes. That growth in him is pretty remarkable. Partly it is a friend handing him a lifeline, partly his own courage.
What is it people most misunderstand about mental illness?
They think, “We offered help and they didn’t want it” or “They can go to a shelter.” They do not realize how many challenges and psychological hurdles mentally ill people face. They have a fear of rules, a fear of having to be more social, a fear of being ostracized. Nathaniel feared a return to the world in which he had snapped. All of the places he played on the street were really noisy. He said, “The city is my orchestra.” With the noise, it was impossible for him to hear his mistakes. He did not want to leave the place he used to play because he said the statue of Beethoven would be alone. We got him a bust of Beethoven for his apartment so he could still keep Beethoven company.
What kind of recommendations are you on Capitol Hill to talk about today?
One of my heroes and mentors, Sister Mary Scullion, co-founded Project Home in Philadelphia. They have taken over abandoned neighborhoods and rehabbed the houses. They have turned lost neighborhoods into anchors of the community. We have Project 50, survey teams with clipboards find the 50 neediest and most desperate and chronically ill people and give them wraparound services, coordinating health care, housing, everything. One year into it, 88 percent are still in housing. It is a double tragedy. People are on the streets and we know what works and can bring them in. Not only is this the humane thing to do, it is the cost-effectrive thing to do.
More than 30 years after he resigned from office, Richard M. Nixon has transcended politics and history and become epic. He has been portrayed on film by Anthony Hopkins, the man who won an Oscar playing Hannibal the Cannibal. And his trip to China has been the subject of an opera, the art form most suited for larger-than-life stories of melodrama and scope. Nixon is like a Shakespearean character, the ability and ambition and the tragic flaws of Richard III, Lear, or Othello.
No one work of art or history will ever contain this man of extraordinary contradictions, but in one of this year’s best films, based on the Tony award-winning play, writer Peter Morgan, director Ron Howard, and actors Frank Langella and Michael Sheen take a pivotal moment in Nixon’s life and make it into a gripping story of the craving of two very different men for power and acceptance and how it plays into a contest of wit and will that becomes a larger story of accountability and meaning.
Richard Nixon was all but exiled to his house on the ocean in San Clemente following his resignation from the Presidency in 1974, relegated to working on his memoirs and finding excuses not to play golf. British broadcaster David Frost was also in a kind of an exile following cancellation of his New York-based talk show, relegated to lightweight celebrity interviews and presiding over televised stunts. Both were desperate for a way to get back into a position of influence. Frost proposed a series of interviews, even though he had no background as a journalist or historian. And Nixon accepted, in part because Frost had not background as a journalist or historian and in part because he would get paid $600,000 and a percentage of the profits. Negotiated by uber-agent Swifty Lazar (a shrewd Toby Jones) and widely criticized as “checkbook journalism,” the payment may have been unorthodox but it was most likely one of the most important factors in eliciting the unprecedented level of candor from the former President, not because of the incentives but because it shifted the balance of power from the subject to the interviewer.
It was also a stunning example of the precise conflict at the heart of so many of Nixon’s failures — his desperate need for approval. He accepted the interview as a way to try to regain his reputation as an elder statesman and remind America of his accomplishments and value. But once again, as it did in 1960 in the first televised Presidential debate, he was defeated by television, but what a character refers to as the power of the close-up. In yet another of this film’s infinite regression of paradoxes, the close-up that most exposes Nixon comes closest to creating sympathy for him. It is one thing to read about the evasions and cover-ups and corruption. It is another to see his face, the desperation, the soul-destroying awareness of how far he was from what he wanted to be.
Staged like a boxing match between the aging champ and the upstart, Howard and Morgan show us the combatants in training, sparring, retreating to their corners for some splashes of water, and then back into it, each going for the knock-out punch. They manage to create sympathy for both men without any shyness about their flaws. Both have some monstrous qualities but neither is a monster.
Sheen and Langella, after months performing together on stage, fully inhabit the roles and are exquisitely attuned to each other. Langella has the more showy character, but Sheen is every bit as precise. Watch the way he orders his lunch. In a millisecond he conveys all of his skills and all of his vulnerabilities. Even in the middle of an important conversation with his producer he stops and gives his full attention to the person behind the counter at the cafeteria and he orders in a way that perfectly demonstrates his charm, his showy self-deprecation, and his need to be noticed and approved of by every person on the planet.
And then there is Nixon, that infinitely interesting jumble of contradictions. Langella shows us his glimmers of self-awareness that cannot add up to meaningful insight. Morgan has taken the privilege of a writer to make it truthful without being accurate in every detail. For one thing, it has better dialogue. Morgan’s “The Queen” was another story of politics, celebrity, history, and conflict between two strong public characters (the younger one played by Michael Sheen) . As he did there, his selection of the elements of the story he wants to highlight and explore allows him to make this men not just historical figures but symbols of duality and contradiction and ultimately to deliver some over-arching messages about what it means to be human.
had a limited release in 2007 but is now widely available for the first time with this week’s DVD. It is based on the real-life story of a “kidnapped” puppet from a local children’s program in Montana that became a national news story and a case for the FBI.
. And now the story of Lopez and Ayers is a movie starring Robert Downey, Jr. and Jamie Foxx.