Esther Kustanowitz: October 2006 Archives

Everyone remembers his or her first time trick-or-treating, getting candy from strangers, and wearing costumes. I know I remember my first time. Mostly because I was 18.

Growing up in suburban New Jersey, I always knew what Halloween was: It was the week when television seemed to switch over to an "every night is Fright Night/Shocktober" format, all the candy in the supermarkets switched over to a fall color palate, and packages suddenly sported ghosts, witches, and corpses, which were very appetizing. And it was the week when my yeshiva (Jewish religious school) sent home a letter to parents informing them that since Halloween was a pagan holiday that had become a fulcrum for mischief and destructive pranks--sometimes of an anti-Semitic nature--it was highly advised that we not be permitted to participate in any of the celebrations.

The only way Halloween made a real impact was the constant ringing of our doorbell, as trick-or-treaters made their way down the block. My brothers and I would open the door and distribute candy to the costumed kids, occasionally pocketing a piece of candy for ourselves, and never whining to my parents to let us participate. It wasn't our faith. It wasn't our holiday.

After high school graduation, I went to college, and as October waned, people started talking about Halloween--instead of door-to-door candy collecting, there were fraternity keg parties and prizes for best costume. Costume strategies for men involved creativity and for women often included cleavage; and choice of costume often revealed elements of truth that we didn't see on days that didn't involve masks. One of my male friends dressed as a Mother Superior, which was hilarious in a Monty Python way; he came out a few years later. Another friend went as "Lampshade Man," sticking a lampshade on his head, and going up to women and saying "Turn me on!" Another dressed as a phone--she took a white t-shirt, drew a telephone keypad on it, attached a phone receiver to a headband, and went to a party saying, "Ring, ring, I'm for you! Pick me up!"

I wasn't really going to celebrate. I didn't even know how. "What did you wear the last time you trick-or-treated?" my friends asked. "Umm, I've never been trick-or-treating." After a shocked silence, I looked at my friends and realized I had managed to terrify them on Halloween--quite a good first effort at the holiday. They vowed to take me trick-or-treating that year, and for an authentic experience, they made me dress up (wearing a pretty modest miniskirt, tights, and boots, I didn't look that different from any of the shul-going Upper West Siders I currently see, but I believe we called what I was "a prostitute"). We left campus and went to the suburbs of East Brunswick.

House by house, as people opened their doors, we yelled "trick or treat" and thrust out our bags waiting for the candy goodness. But the homeowners were suspicious. "Aren't you a little old for this?" So we offered to trade services for candy--singing services. "Halloween carols? Really?" one homeowner queried. "Sure!" we agreed. We started with some classics, Frank and Broadway show tunes, and moved to some more contemporary stuff. Debbie Gibson may have been involved--the memory there is a little hazy.

So that was my first time. It felt a little weird, like I was pretending not to be Jewish; but most of the friends I was out with that night were also Jewish. They were just used to this holiday in a way I wasn't then and never really acclimated to. Even today, I'm not such a fan of Halloween. I know other people love it and I try not to grinch on their parades, especially the famous Village Halloween Parade, which has been the unintentional fulcrum of some of my NYC-based relationships.

I appreciate the creativity of a good costume, but for me, some of them, especially the "bloodied accident victim" genre, seem to have lost their "fun," which I trace to all the CNN footage I watched after 9/11, and others still seem like a chance for women to flaunt their womanly parts to the point of exploitation and drink until they can't tell the difference between friends and friends-with-benefits. Which may suit everyone else fine, but that kind of obfuscation isn't necessarily my cup of poison.

Even on the Jewish holiday of Purim, a yeshiva girl's approved day of dress-up, I'm always second-guessing my costume. So when it comes to Halloween, which is definitely not yeshiva-approved, I generally try to stay out of it. But I do get it. There is definitely something appealing about a day of fun and freedom from the strictures of contemporary dress and behavior. so maybe I'll come around. And, of course, there's candy, which--metaphorically and literally--everyone can agree is totally sweet.

Last year, a sketch character called Borat sang a song advising the world to throw the Jews down the well so his country could be free, and in the process he managed to convince the patrons in a country-western bar to sing along. The world's response? Some Jewish organizations were predictably fearful--worrying about the possibility that the sketch was promoting anti-Semitism--while many individuals around the world embraced the joke, and the comedian, behind the sketch. Many of Borat's fans were Jewish, but didn't see it as a conflict; some of them "got the joke," that people will do anything on camera, and the "not-so-jokey" part, that people are followers who may embrace anti-Semitism if it's compelling enough in the moment. Other people just thought it was funny.

This year, Borat's got a new movie coming out, called "Encyclopedia Borat and the Case of the Infernally Long and Unmemorable Fake Movie Title." (Actually, the movie's real title is "Borat's Cultural Learnngs of America For Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan." See? Mine was easier.) So with millions of people about to be exposed to this anti-Semitic Kazakh journalist, we'll be hearing a lot about whether the movie is good for the Jews.

While Borat's creator, Sacha Baron Cohen, is himself Jewish--and, as a cover story in Entertainment Weekly noted, "wrote a thesis on the black-Jewish alliance in the American civil rights movement"--one of Borat's more famous characteristics is his virulent anti-Semitism. Most recently, People reported that he expressed a wish "to meet the fearless anti-Jew warrior Melvin Gibson." He continued, "We agree with his comments that the Jews started all wars. We also have proof that they were responsible for killing off all the dinosaurs. And Hurricane Katrina--they did it."

But what's that gibberish dialect that Borat speaks in the film? It's supposed to be his native Kazakh language, but after viewing a new trailer, Jews the world over know the truth: Borat speaks Hebrew.

In the movie, according to a report in the Jewish Telegraphic Agency (the AP of Jewish journalism): "Borat takes leave of his ancestral village, telling one resident, according to the subtitle, 'Doltan, I'll get you a new arm in America.' In fact, Cohen says in Hebrew, 'I'll buy you some kind of a new arm.' Borat also parries with his wife in Hebrew." (I am citing the report for journalistic reasons, but as a Hebrew-speaker, I can verify that this is true.)

The Entertainment Weekly article further noted that the "Kazakh" Borat speaks is actually a blend of gibberish, Hebrew, and Polish. And Borat's Wikipedia entry notes that the Kazakh journalist has been known to say the lyrics of a Hebrew folk song, "Koom Bachur Atzel." (Anyone who knows that song will now have it stuck in his or her head for the rest of the day. Sorry about that.)

Clearly, the artist behind Borat doesn't really believe Jews should all be thrown down the well, or that Jews killed the dinosaurs, any more than the creators of South Park believe that skater Brian Boitano built the pyramids and beat up Kublai Khan. But perhaps within Borat's choice of language, there's an additional wink in an already parodic portrayal. Perhaps it's even a reward for the Hebrew-speakers who can see past the "anti-Semitism" and get the joke.

Say the words "biblical epic," and certain things come to mind. Charlton Heston, Cecil B. Demille, Yul Brynner. Heavy makeup, especially eyeliner. English accents, for sure. Grandiose sets, costumes, and plot points, at the expense of biblical accuracy. Long speeches set in archaic language, with lots of "lo, behold"s and "yea, though thou hast"s. Some sort of allusion to Jesus/salvation. And for the person with more than a passing knowledge of biblical texts, a frustrating time is generally a given.

Which is what makes "One Night With the King," Gener8Xion Entertainment Inc.'s new film of the story of Esther--out in selected theaters this Friday--so refreshing. Instead of my internal voices saying "that's not right," or "jeez, what a misinterpretation of the text," I was able to sit back and actually enjoy the story, with which I, bearing the name of the queen for more than three decades, am more than a little familiar.

The nutshell story of "One Night With the King"--adapted from the book by Tommy Tenney and Mark Andrew Olsen--is itself an adaptation of what's known in Judaism as Megillat Esther (the biblical Book of Esther). Through a series of circumstances, a young Jewess, named Hadassah at the beginning of the story, changes her name to Esther (thereby concealing her Jewish identity) and ascends to the queenship of the Persian Empire. A the same time, a man named Haman, an enemy of the Jews, also gains power and gets the King of Persia to approve an order to destroy the Jews and confiscate their property.

Esther's uncle (or in some accounts, her cousin) Mordecai reminds her that she is in a position to save her people. At great personal peril, she approaches the king without having been invited to do so, and begs him to save her people--advocating on behalf of the Jews and outing herself as a Jewess. The king grants her wish, Haman is punished, and the Jews are not destroyed, and everyone lives happily ever after, giving us the reason for the holiday of Purim.

In this version of the epic, recently endorsed by the American Bible Society, the political position of Persia at that point in world history--and the roles that queens and advisors play in and outside the palace--is stressed more so than the religious themes, with the love story between Esther and the King coming in second, in terms of prominence.

The acting is good, and not distractingly overdramatic--not everyone speaks in the same accent, and that's okay. The scenery, resplendent with rich scarlets and lush golds, is reminiscent in scale and color scheme of Bollywood exports. (I later learned that the film was actually filmed in India.) Some cast members look like they just came over from the set of "Lord of the Rings" (there are two alumni of that epic in this film), and some overhead shots of Persia are so obviously CGI that one might wonder if James Cameron was involved. There were a few inconsistencies--one added character, Jesse, plays the role of "Hadassah's friend from home who would have proposed had he not been forced into becoming a eunuch in the king's palace." He serves as a messenger, mostly, but his presence in a story that's otherwise fairly faithful to the text is a bit jarring.

One standout among the actors is newcomer Tiffany Dupont, who plays Esther. In addition to being incredibly beautiful, she skillfully conveys the idealism and individuality of the young Hadassah and authentically charts the physical and emotional transition from peasant girl to queen and an agent for her nation's redemption. And John Rhys-Davies, so memorable for his roles in both the Indiana Jones and Lord of the Rings trilogies, manages to erase our memories of those films and disappear into the role of Mordecai, a role I never would have cast him in, but which he fills brilliantly.

The film's press materials boast a "Lawrence of Arabia" reunion, since the film includes performances from legendary actors and LoA costars Peter O'Toole and Omar Sharif. But those expecting the two to share actual screen time will be disappointed--O'Toole appears as Samuel the Prophet in the "prologue" section of the movie, while Sharif's character (Prince Memucan) is a featured player in the Persia segments of the movie... and ne'er the twain shall onscreen meet.

As part of its grassroots marketing strategy, Gener8Xion Entertainment has included a three-week pastor preview screening tour as part of the film's debut. Making stops in 19 cities, the tour is especially intended for pastors, youth leaders, social service professionals, and other faith leaders. ABS's Nida Institute for Biblical Scholarship has endorsed the movie as true-to-Scripture and says that it advances the mission of ABS by making biblical stories and the Bible more accessible and appealing to people throughout the world.

I freely admit that I sat down to watch this film with a chip on my shoulder. I fully thought it was going to be atrocious. But instead, I found it to be one of the more satisfying--and less annoying--biblical epics I've seen. What will really be interesting is to see how effectively this film can mainstream the story of Esther into the popular awareness, and if it will seed the way for other biblical epics that are both dramatically effective and faithful to the text.