"High Art," Odd Jewish (Sort of) Movie

Departing from my usual fare, I had Netflix send me High Art, a 1998 movie set in the drug-addled art-magazine world in New York. The cast had promise, with Ally Sheedy, Patricia Clarkson (struggling and failing to maintain a German accent) and Radha Mitchell. The photo-magazine setting also caught my interest, but the druggy characters and dark settings dampened my mood. Ally Sheedy as Lucy looked dreadfully gaunt as an alienated star photographer in emotional exile—I hope that was just acting, not real life.

What added an odd angle to High Art was Sheedy's interaction with her mother, an upper-class German-Jew who rails against Sheedy's German girlfriend and drives a Mercedes. The strained mother-daughter relationship and the explicit Jewish angle (including a scene with Shabbat candles in the background) were so at odds with the blank backgrounds of the other characters that I had to wonder what was going on.

Did Holocaust traumas drive Lucy's drugging and withdrawal? What's the backstory on the German girlfriend and the mother's hectoring? Lucy carries the weight of history as well as addiction in her, and that added a fresh element to a romantic threesome movie set in the late Clinton era of New York. High Art is worth watching, but it's no feel-good date movie.

Thinking About Body Images and "Someday Melissa"

I typically scan the New York Times obituary page for lives well lived, but the December 21 edition with the tiny-type paid notices was wrenching with its sketches of too-soon loss. One very long notice was for Suzanne Hart, the advertising executive killed in an elevator accident a week earlier. By contrast, the memorial notice for Melissa Rose Avrin ran only 7 lines, plus a photo. It read,

Dec. 21, 1989-May 6, 2009. Your movie is a reality. It's changing lives around the world in the battle against Eating Disorders. Missing and loving you forever, Mom. www.somedaymelissa.com.

I followed the link and found that "Someday Melissa" is the name of a documentary made by Melissa's mother, Judy Avrin, as a response to Melissa's death at 19 from a heart attack related to her bulimia. It has already accepted at a film festival and screened at medical schools, universities and Jewish community centers. Someday Melissa includes journal entries from Melissa and interviews with family members, friends and medical and mental health professionals.It deserves wide viewing and discussion.

Melissa Avrin's wrenching and fatal bulimia resonates with me as the extreme expression of body-image issues. In my dating days in the 1980s, I met women with bulimia and the memories of their deep distress over appearance and other psychological issues still haunt me. I tried to be as supportive as possible, but I realized the matter was far beyond my influence, other than saying I accepted them for who and what they were. Whatever self-perceptions led them to behave this way had no basis in reality -- they were attractive and fit. But we're not talking about reality with any of this. I couldn't save anybody, and it took years before I realized that.

I touch on body image issues, both men's and women's, in my book, "A Kosher Dating Odyssey." I don't know if Jewish women are more prone to eating disorders than any other ethnic group, but they are perhaps more articulate in acknowledging and addressing them. I look at the film's website and I think of other women and their pain. The film already has had an impact, judging from the hundreds of comments posted on the site's guestbook about viewers' responses to it. I can only hope that Judy Avrin's response to her great loss leads to comfort and support for people who punish themselves when looking in the mirror and not seeing the God-given wonder they truly are.

"Gloomy Sunday"—Finding Compelling Jewish Cinema Via Serendipity

Planning for a four-day weekend, with three days without library access, I went a little wild on Thursday scooping up DVDs. My son's with me so I looked for films through his eyes. Several genres called out to me—a big film noir collection, 13 Assassins in the ever-popular Japanese samurai mode, Gilda with Rita Hayworth, and finally, from the German shelf, Gloomy Sunday. I had never heard of the movie, but the Holocaust themes and Budapest setting suggested this could be worth a look.

We kicked off our holiday film festival with this movie. I highly recommend it to anybody looking for a different take on Holocaust cinema. The Amazon link gives plenty of details about the film, so I'll focus on what made it especially notable for me. First, female lead Erika Marozsán throws out some of the most smoldering looks ever seen in a movie—the term "bedroom eyes" must have been invented for her. She plays a waitress for a Jewish restaurant owner in Budapest, before and during the war. The character and probably the actress aren't Jewish, but she's integral to the plot of a movie that relentlessly moves toward the deportations from Hungary, which happened in 1944. I've already updated my mental list of the sexiest Jewish movies to include Gloomy Sunday on the strength of Marozsán's performance.

The Holocaust aspect is compelling but not nearly as explicit as Schindler's List and The Pianist. I found Gloomy Sunday also interesting also as a Holocaust movie set in Hungary. Other movies that came to mind are the Hungarian-language Fateless and English-language Sunshine are other movies set in Hungary, and they all deal, to differing degrees, with the lives people made after the war ended.

As an extra treat, Gloomy Sunday has a conclusion that makes rewatching earlier parts of the movie a delicious, retributionist pleasure.

Getting This Jewish Show on the Road with . . . Tim Tebow?

This was my first post at a blog connected to my book, "A Kosher Dating Odyssey," at wallach.coffeetownpress.com. Due to a change in the publisher's technology, author blogs will no longer be supported in mid-2018, so I transferred all those Coffeetown Press posts here to Mission2Moscow.

Given that tonight is the first night of Hanukkah, this is an ideal time to start this new blog with thoughts on—Christians and Jews. Sometimes I think I stand at the crossroads between two religious traditions with a 2,000 year history of at best uneasy coexistence and at worst, unidirectional slaughter. A news item last week showed the clash very clearly, and the uproar had a personal angle for me.

The issue involved the column titled "My Tim Tebow Problem" by Rabbi Joshua Hammerman of Stamford, Connecticut's Temple Beth El. The column appeared first online, and then in the print edition of the New York Jewish Week. Rabbi Hammerman expressed his unease about Denver Broncos' QB Tebow, from his missionary parents to his long-time public admissions of his Christian faith. The stunning Broncos OT victory over the Chicago Bears was the straw that broke the rabbi's tolerant back. The column had many unintentionally classic paragraphs, and this captured the tone the best:

If Tebow wins the Super Bowl, against all odds, it will buoy his faithful, and emboldened faithful can do insane things, like burning mosques, bashing gays and indiscriminately banishing immigrants.

Rabbi Hammerman continues in that mode and closes with this thought:

Unlike some other blue-staters, I do not fear people of faith. I fear people of certainty. The worldwide struggle going on right now is not between good and evil, but between certainty and doubt. I fear people of certainty. It cuts across denominational lines: Progressive modern Orthodox Jews lie on one side of the divide, joining mainline Christians and moderate Muslims, and those on the other side are also Jews, Christians and Muslims; the people of certainty.

The column certainly caused comment, and the worst thoughts soon vanished from the column and then the column itself was yanked from the Jewish Week website. Fortunately, I bought a copy of the December 16 issue and can enjoy these thoughts in a hard copy, whenever I want. Rabbi Hammerman issued a short apology on his own blog, saying his effort to "make broad points about society and extremism" backfired. The Jewish Week issued its own apology.

I followed the controversy with some horrified fascination. In one connection, I attended services at Beth El when I lived in Stamford; in fact, it was the first synagogue I checked out when I moved there in October 2002. I attended community events where Rabbi Hammerman spoke, and I never had any problems with his comments. So, seeing somebody I sort of know getting pounded in the press made me wince. I felt for him, even if I disagreed with what he wrote.

Rabbi Hammerman's comments also carry a certain twisted validity. He expressed, in a clunky way, what I have heard other Jewish and non-Jewish blue staters say many times. They loathe conservative Christians in terms similar to what appeared in the column. Progressive religious beliefs easily merge into the left wing of the Democratic party, mirroring a process that also happens on the right wing with the GOP. They have little empathy and barely any tolerance for the people of certainty.

As in Rabbi Hammerman's column, the certainty people can be Jewish as much as anybody. I've heard Jews savage the beliefs and lifestyles of Orthodox and, especially, Chasidic Jews. I can imagine them reading the column, now down the memory hole, and nodding, "That's right, he's speaking the truth." He was the perfect progressive on the matter and I would have liked to see the column remain up to stimulate discussion. Apologies notwithstanding, Rabbi Hammerman voiced what he and others think about those icky Tebow types, even Jewish Tebow types.

Tying the discussion in to my upcoming book, "A Kosher Dating Odyssey," I've had first-hand experiences with doubters. I dated one woman who became enraged at the very sight of Orthodox women, whose politics did not align with hers. At one event, she harangued two of them, shouting, "If you don't believe in abortion, then YOU raise the kids people don't want!" I remember thinking, "How can she say that? What if these women lost relatives in the Holocaust, or had infertility problems? She doesn't know anything about them."

Another woman, an immigrant from one of the more repressive corners of Eastern Europe, exhausted me during telephone chats with her anti-American screeds, starting with the idiot leader George Bush and working her way through the political and economic shortcomings that surrounded her. My romantic curiosity, which was considerable, crumbled under the hammerblows of her Euro-skepticism. I'm happy to report that she ultimately returned to the tolerant and thriving Eurozone and is much happier with the culture and politics. The fascist hellhole that is Amerikkka just wasn't her kind of place.

I'll leave it to others to analyze whether those "mainline Christians and moderate Muslims" are really such pals of progressive Jews, and why Hindus and Buddhists were excluded from the discussion. What's the JewBu perspective on coalition building? For now, I hope the controversy leads to reflection on how Jews and Christians get along, and what factors drive Jewish blue staters of faith to lash out at others of faith who don't stick to a very narrow range of politics and lifestyles. I'd like to think doubters and certainers can find common ground. But I'm afraid I'm a person of doubt on this matter.

HurryDate: The Shock of the Real

This post first appeared in JMag, the publication of JDate. Its introduction said: JDate member Van Wallach writes candidly about how he found success using HurryDate, an alternative that brings online dating offline.

Despite my experience with online dating, I still felt nervous heading toward my first speed dating event in New York. Compared to the layers of emotional cushioning communicating online provides—a Jewish speed dating party promised to close the digital distance in real time. Participants have five minutes to go on 10-15 dates. The image came to mind of cake ingredients thrown into a blender; we’d either mix or not.

I thought carefully about presentation. The women would see the 3-D me, not just pictures. Deciding to go upscale, I wore a sports coat, a blue button-down shirt and a confidence-inspiring Jerry Garcia tie. The ensemble said, “I pay attention. You’re worth a guy who dresses nicely for our first encounter.”

I hoped speed dating would work better than other singles events I had attended. I wilt in loud, crowded, alcohol-driven venues where men are challenged to blast into a tight circle of women friends standing together. Typically, the noise, the crowds, and the lack of information about the women inhibit me. I feel adrift and out of my element.

I walked into the bar on Bleeker Street in time for the half-hour of socializing. I scanned the group to check out the women, and the men. The organizers waited a few extra minutes to let stragglers arrive, then began. They explained the mechanics: women stay seated, men rotate every five minutes to the next table for a new date whenever a whistle was blown.

The first date got the speed dating concept off to a very pleasant start. The woman was intelligent, educated and attractive. Information about her children suggested she was probably older than me, but I wasn’t going to let that be a hindrance. I marked her “yes” on my score sheet, which offered only yes-and-no choices. A HurryDate party leaves no room for ambiguity.

I moved through other dates, with each conversation having its own rhythm. What do you do? Where do you live? What do you enjoy doing in your spare time? (I asked that, but nobody asked me). Several times I had to explain the origins of my highly un-Jewish name, Van (and yes, that’s my real name; I’m named after a car, but that’s a story for another time).

I kept my eye on the approaching women as the whistle-signal led to another round of musical chairs. You see, I recognized two of them. One I had met on JDate and dated a few times several years earlier, and another I had written to on JDate and never received a reply. I had contacted her in recent weeks after she changed her picture—I told her I liked the new picture. I never heard back from her.

Two women had the same name and I couldn’t tell from my notes which I was interested in, so I marked both and rolled into a date with the no-reply woman first. We did the usual getting-to-know-all-about-you chatter, then I said, “You know, I wrote to you on JDate and you never responded.” She explained she had had computer problems, and other people had also been concerned when they didn’t hear from her. Our conversation had more of an edge to it, based on a history, albeit a one-sided one. I marked her as a “yes.”

My very next date was the woman I met on JDate in 2004. We went out a few times, then I got involved in something else. She also remembered me, and even mentioned an old screen name of mine. We knew enough to get caught up on work and kid issues, and that felt good. I marked her a “yes,” also.

At home, I logged on and cast my votes. I marked “yes” for four, “no” for the others (I would have marked only three, but two women had the same name I couldn’t tell from my notes which I was interested in, so I marked both). I couldn’t fake enthusiasm for women where I felt no connection. I could tell when I would be interested, on emotional, social and, yes, physical grounds.

A day later, I had three matches, the three I wanted. The evening achieved exactly what I wanted; the confidence-building Jerry Garcia tie worked its magic.

Matthew Polly: Transformation in China

Here's a Princeton Alumni Weekly profile of Matthew Polly '95, a martial arts expert who wrote a book about his experiences. The story says:

Polly’s book, American Shaolin: Flying Kicks, Buddhist Monks, and the Legend of Iron Crotch: An Odyssey in the New China, is a raucous, wry look at his transformation from a “weakling” to a fighting machine. Despite his lonely status as the only English speaker at his academy, Polly persisted in the training and language study so that after a year, he says, “I began to understand the culture. The people let me in.” Published by Gotham Books in February, the book recounts his picaresque adventures as he traveled, clashed with Communist Party functionaries, and switched from kung fu to kickboxing.

In-Q-Tel: Spookily Responsible Investing

Year's end always makes people think of their investment portfolios, and that makes me think about the unique investment strategy of In-Q-Tel, the non-profit venture fund supported by the CIA.

While the In-Q-Tel name is horribly clunky, the corporate mandate is a big winner in any game of Buzzword Bingo:

In-Q-Tel was established in 1999 as an independent, private, not-for-profit company to help the CIA and the greater US Intelligence Community (IC) to identify, acquire, and deploy cutting-edge technologies. In-Q-Tel's open and entrepreneurial venture capital model gives it the agility - lacking within traditional government contracting approaches - to help the IC benefit from the rapid pace of change in information technology and other emerging technology fields.

In-Q-Tel's mission is to deliver leading-edge capabilities to the CIA and the IC by investing in the development of promising technologies. Because early-stage technologies are often unproven, In-Q-Tel takes the calculated risks necessary to develop, prove, and deliver them to the Intelligence Community.

And the company uses an arresting tag line on its highly informative site: "As outside the box as government gets."

I can't evaluate In-Q-Tel's investment strategies or success, but I like to think of this as a War on Terror version of "socially responsible investing." The folks at the Social Investment Forum probably wouldn't be too keen to list In-Q-Tel as an investment vehicle, even if they could. The Social Investment Forum's perspective is:

Your savings and investments can help create a better world! Our new guide gives you hands-on advice and information to help you put your dollars to work to build healthy communities, promote economic equity, and foster a clean environment.

I would like to see In-Q-Tel reframe its value proposition in these terms, as a declaration of "spookily responsible investing." That would have more punch than cutting-edge, leading-edge, bleeding-edge, etc. Why not:

"Your savings and investments can help create a more secure, terror-destroying world! Our new guide gives you phasers-on advice and information to help you put your anti-jihadist dollars to work to build healthy listening devices, promote interrogation equity, and a foster an environment that's more deadly to terrorists and the evil forces that support them."

Doesn't that work better? Where do I send my check?

Wendy Sayvitz: Singing Underground in New York

Here's an alumni profile from the Princeton Alumni Weekly of Wendy Sayvitz '81, who has made a good living as a musician performing (and selling CDs) at Grand Central Terminal.

His Perspective: The Functional Value of Heartache

The following first appeared in JMag, the publication of JDate. The introduction said: If you’re an experienced dater, you’ve probably had your share of heartache. JDate member Van Wallach argues that opening up about painful lessons can show someone new that you’re looking for love, not just a good time. (But save the blow-by-blow of your last breakup for your mother.)

After my divorce, I had to readjust to the dating world. The stability of a 12-year marriage vanished into the constant flux of new contacts and opportunities. I found that telling stories about myself—my history, interests, and hopes—was a recurring theme in this strange new land.

Much as in a job interview, the stories we tell on dates are designed to make good first impressions. In fact, so much of this adult dating stuff seems like nothing more than the recitation of preset narratives. Two people make an acquaintance and, as they proceed, start talking. Initially, conversations rarely progress beyond the standard questions posed and reliable answers proffered. If the elusive chemistry exists, the masks slip down so a less polished self may emerge. Then the real connection begins. If the elusive chemistry exists, the masks slip down so a less polished self may emerge. Then the real connection begins.

The masks slipped quickly last spring when I met a woman I’ll call Sandi. From our first encounters on JDate and then in person, I sensed something special about her—and, about us. We revealed bits about ourselves that very few others know. I allowed plans for what we could do, what we could be, to form in my mind. That’s what happens when a woman touches the reptilian boy-girl attraction node deep inside my soul.

It didn’t last. Sandi thrashed in a spider-web of complications involving parents and exes that thwarted our relationship, so we constantly took one step forward and two steps back. Finally, she decided to take two steps back and no steps forward. I was abruptly left to thrash on my own. I could take only meager solace from changes she made to her online dating profile, which now read, “Sometimes you meet the right man at the wrong time.”

Months later, the heartache of Sandi remained with me in a surprising way. During JDate conversations, I would talk to some degree about my marriage or my nuttier dating adventures (such as separately contacting two women who turned out to be sisters, or the woman who pestered me for confidential files from my employer), but never about Sandi. The whole sequence was so baffling and hurtful, so close to my dreams and expectations of what life could hold.

But, I am finding that heartache carries a functional value. That value emerges in response to questions that singles tend to ask. For my part, I never inquire about women’s dating experiences, online services to which they subscribe, or anything else that crosses into the realm of “none of my business.”

However, some of my dates are curious about these personal and pertinent details. Do I date much? What’s my online personals experience been like?

Indeed, Sandi and I had that type of conversation in our relationship. Strolling along the lakefront one lingering summer afternoon, we talked freely about our pasts. After a deep breath, I told her about a profoundly upsetting episode in my romantic history. I held nothing back from Sandi in telling the story—nothing. We held hands and she responded with great empathy. From those moments in the dappled sunlight, I knew our relationship could be based on a level of true trust and support. But the ice floes of life moved us apart, not closer.

Reluctantly, I moved on. The first time a woman asked me, post-Sandi, whether I had a steady relationship since my day in divorce court, I didn’t know what to say. I finally said I had known different women, made some good friends, but nothing really serious had resulted. Buzz! Wrong answer for this woman, who expressed concern that I may not be serious in my pursuit of romance. These kinds of questions are anything but casual. They aim to sound out whether I’m merely a male hummingbird sipping the nectar of available blossoms or actually serious about this business of romantic cross-pollination.

Afterward, I thought about what she asked and my reply. Treating this as an “it’s none of your business” question may not be the right approach. What was she truly asking? What have I truly felt and experienced? I decided these kinds of questions are anything but casual. They aim to sound out my past and intentions, what I’m seeking, and whether I’m merely a male hummingbird sipping the nectar of available blossoms or actually serious about this business of romantic cross-pollination.

Before long, the issue arose again. This time, I was ready. Combining honesty and discretion, I replied, “Yes, I had something that looked very promising. We really connected. But the timing wasn’t right. It just didn’t work out.”

That basic response may evolve, depending on who’s asking the question and the amount of tequila accompanying the conversation. Sandi and I did have something potentially serious, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to downplay what it meant – what it meant for me, anyway. No, I’m not going to offer my heartfelt confessional to every complete stranger I meet for a drink. But now, if asked, at least I have a narrative that shows I am indeed capable and serious.

Do You Have a Relationship Resume?

Most people on Jdate and other dating sties have a resume for their work life. Lately I've been thinking about the value of a resume for my love life. It makes sense: you go through phone screenings, initial conversations, more formal interviews ("dates") with the goal of getting something valuable in your life. We jump through similar hoops in the quest for finance and romance.

So we can all benefit from a "Romance Resume" to provide to targets here on Jdate. The profile does some of the work, but it doesn't go far enough. "What I've Learned from Past Relationships" can be overhauled to provide much more detail. Think of the great conversations that would start if we could exchange relationship Resumes with love interests here.

What would they look and sound like? Since I'm throwing out the idea, it's only fair that I go first. Here's disguised example:

2005-2006: YettaFromYonkers, New York
Overview: YfY and I formed a dynamic, mutually supportive relationship based initially on our shared interest in kung fu movies. It blossomed through our discussions of children, parents, exes, personality-altering medications, and Jdate experiences.

Key accomplishments in this relationship:

* Social: Successfully took YfY to museums, concerts, and exotic restaurants where we ate with our hands while sitting on the floor.
* Emotional: Provided key support to YfY during late-night crises involving intestinal distress due to visits to exotic restaurants.
* Physical: Can discuss details during oral presentations.


See what I mean? We can all think of our pasts as a series of emotionally enriching engagements that let us develop knowledge and capabilities that will delight our next romantic "employer," so to speak. That will give us all an edge in the competition against all the other job applicants applying for the same job.

Some people aren't seeking full-time romantic employment. They are more like freelancers or consultants, interested in a series of less-defined short-term engagements. An honest, detailed romance resume will make that employment history clear, so readers can evaluate you on that basis -- whether you want to sign up for the whole package with an office and romantic employment contract or a more casual, in-and-out engagement.

And of course your romance resume will include references, so readers can check out its accuracy first-hand. Doesn't that sound fun?