Though given short shrift in too much mainstream conversation, imaginative filmmaking continues to thrive, even in this unusually benighted year.
Born Jacob Julius Garfinkel to Russian Jewish parents, John Garfield was at once ahead of the curve and decidedly a creature of his time.
“Marnie” was one of the Hitchcock’s tales of vulnerable beauties psychologically dominated to varying extents by dashing men.
In “Fairfax Avenue,” Janet Leigh plays a diva who is writing her memoirs for the Jewish Daily Forward.
1940s Jews are rounded up alongside brown-skinned refugees, the latter-day French police essentially doing the bidding of yesteryear’s Nazis
“American Dharma” presents the same difficulties as following up a film like “Borat”: once people know your game, it’s harder to punk them.
A filmmaker who discovered his Jewish ancestry only in adulthood, Truffaut here recalls Primo Levi.
According to his admirers, Blecher was a hidden genius of modernist literature, another lost Kafka scattered in the wreckage of 20th century Europe.
“I think if you would say one thing about Stanley’s Jewishness, it was that it was entirely secular.”
“I was like, ‘What do you mean? Am I Jewish? What does that mean? Why didn’t you say that before?’”