Esther Kustanowitz: March 2007 Archives

She's changed her name and image more times than Prince or John Mellencamp. Her successful standup career was followed by a popular sitcom, which gave early screen credits to writers like Buffy's Joss Whedon, SNL's Norm MacDonald, and the Gilmore Girls' Amy Sherman--who hyphenated her name upon marriage to fellow "Roseanne" scribe and Gilmore producing partner Daniel Palladino. The sitcom showed us children who matured awkwardly even on camera, brought on gay characters, and launched careers for not one, but two, Beckys. But for all that she's accomplished, Roseanne (Barr/Arnold/"just Roseanne, please") really just wants two things: a bat mitzvah and to become Prime Minister of Israel.

Yes, Roseanne is a member of the tribe--although growing up in the predominantly Mormon Salt Lake City, she had more of an affinity for Mormonism as a child than she did for Judaism. As she explains in an article in the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, Salt Lake City had only 50 Jewish families, and anti-Semitism was both rampant and violent; Roseanne's mother hid her children's Jewish identity, bringing them to Mormon services. Recently, Roseanne's affiliation with the Kabbalah Centre has created headlines, but the comedian had been acquainted with the principles of Kabbalah since she was 13.

Her reason for considering a bat mitzvah now? "I was recently at my niece's bat mitzvah, and she talked about helping other people in the world," Roseanne said. "I love to be involved, and that really turned me on. Yes, I would like to have a bat mitzvah, that would be cool."

According to the JTA article, when asked about the basis of her Jewishness, she cracks, "An overwhelming desire for carbohydrates." (Heading into Passover, I can tell you that bread withdrawal is a major part of the holiday, and we spend a lot of time, money, and energy trying to create cakes, puddings, anything made of matzah that can substitute for bread during this week of unleaven. It's an addiction we're not proud of. )

"It's part of my genetic memory," she continues. "When I hear stories from the Bible or about Judaism, I think that they are about me, that I am part of them, like I was personally at Mount Sinai with Moses.... Of course, this may be some kind of mental illness... Sometimes I wonder if there isn't a fine line between being Jewish and being crazy."

I haven't seen any evidence of such a connection--although you do hear a lot about the line between creativity and depression, and having three ex-husbands might be enough to push you over the edge. But if by "crazy" she means either "neurotic" or "cuckoo for carbs," then she may be onto something.

As for becoming Prime Minister of Israel, the comedian says that she's qualifed. Even though her family won't listen to her, "I know every solution to every problem," she says.

When it comes to music, ethnic is in. From mainstream pop artists like Christina Aguilera, Shakira, and J.Lo singing in their native languages, to Madonna sampling a Hebrew song on her "Confessions on a Dancefloor" album, using foreign languages in contemporary songsmithing is pretty common ... unless the language you're thinking of is Samaritan.

Sofi Tsedaka's story is not one you hear every day. The singer was born into a Samaritan compound in Holon, Israel (near Tel Aviv). Sofi studied in Israeli schools while receiving afteroon instruction in the Samaritan language and religion. And her debut CD features lyrics in the language of the Samaritans between tracks with Hebrew vocals.

Quick history lesson: The Samaritans have lived in the Holy Land for thousands of years and are probably best known for the parable of the Good Samaritan in the New Testament Book of Luke. The Samaritans believe themselves to be the remnants of Israelites exiled by the Assyrians in 722 B.C. They practice a religion closely linked to Judaism and venerate a version of the Old Testament, but are not Jews. By now the Samaritan population has been nearly erased.

By the time Sofi reached high school, she was well on her way to leaving the sect. And after studying for conversion to Judaism and marrying (and divorcing) a Jew, the sect excommunicated her. She became a singer and a model/actress--the striking red-head starred in soap operas and children's television shows.

In her new song, Sofi "intones the first passages of the Book of Genesis in the Samaritan tongue. Other tracks sample the unique rhythms and whooping chants of Samaritan prayers and songs." While there is no indication that Sofi's album is a renewed interest in her either joining the Samaritan sect (whose numbers currently are holding at "precisely 705") or learning their language, for Sofi, it represents "a gesture of reconciliation with the Samaritans."

And you better believe that when YouTube posts video of her, we'll bring it to you here.

Every year the Eurovision song contest pits countries against each other in an international battle of the bands, which CNN describes as "a 50-year-old pan-European institution renowned less for serious music than for unbridled kitsch and terrible costumes but which is nonetheless a major TV event every year." (Yes, just like Mamma Mia is on Broadway.)

But at this year's contest controversy is afoot, as host city Helsinki has said "hell, no" to Israel's entry, a song called "Push the Button," which is about exactly what it sounds like--living under the threat of nuclear war. (Click below to watch the video for this song.)

The song--a tongue-in-cheek melange of styles that is sung in three languages (English, French and Hebrew)--refers to "some crazy rulers" who "hide and try to fool us with demonic technologic willingness to harm." Never mind that the song (from a band called Teapacks) appears to be a general meditation on the dangers of life in the nuclear age, or that Finland's 1982 Eurovision entry, "Nuku Pommiin," was also about the threat of nuclear war. (It came in last.)

Teapacks was founded in 1988 and dominated the Israeli pop charts throughout the 1990s with a blend of Eastern rhythms and Western pop accompanied by offbeat lyrics. The band has been out of the limelight for some time until the recent controversy boosted their popularity.

Israel previously won the Eurovision song contest three times. In 1988 transsexual singer Dana International won with the over-the-top song "Diva," a tune that made RuPaul's "Work It" seem conservative and horrified religious Jews everywhere. Previous wins happened in the 1970s: In 1978 Izhar Cohen won for "Abani-Bi," and Gali Atari & Milk and Honey won in 1979 for "Halleluyah."

And here's your additional Israeli music trivia note of the day: While the band's name is currently being transliterated as "Teapacks," I always see it written in English as "Tipex." Why? Because the band is named after an Israeli product similar to "Wite-Out," which helps you to erase (or "x-out") type. Voila: Tipex.

The opening number sets the scene for the rest of the film: There's the turmoil of rival gangs coupled with a nascent love story that will either unite the warring factions or cause a violent rift. But because this musical is "West Bank Story," the Oscar-winning short film by Ari Sandel, love, politics, and hummus intertwine in this musical comedy short with a message.

According to the film’s official site, director/co-writer Sandel’s goals were "to make a film that would get attention and also make people laugh; that was pro-peace and offered a message of hope; and that addressed the situation in an even-handed and balanced way so that Jewish and Arab audiences would feel fairly represented enough to let their guard down and laugh WITH the characters from the 'other side.'"

Sandel took this mission seriously, recruiting Jewish actors to play the Israelis and actors of Arab descent to play the Palestinians. He and his co-writer, Kim Ray, brainstormed a list of things that Jews and Arabs have in common and came up with food. Clearly food as a uniting element between the two sides resonated--the film has played at more than 112 film festivals worldwide (including Sundance in 2005) and screened in 29 U.S. states and in 21 countries including China, Switzerland, Germany, Austria, and the United Arab Emirates.

In one scene, a group of Palestinians (snapping their fingers) approaches a security checkpoint where a young woman, Fatima, meets David, a good-looking Israel Defense Forces soldier. After Fatima and David lock eyes and trade a smile, the Palestinians continue walking toward their business, the Hummus Hut. Then a group of Israelis (snapping their fingers) walks toward their business, the Kosher King. Each group seems happy with their business, "if only our stupid neighbor was not [fill in Hummus Hut or Kosher King} here."

The two groups sing and dance their way through the musical’s traditional "warring gangs" number, although both groups are saying the same thing: "Our people must be served, our people must be fed." The groups freeze in a split screen after the song’s final notes--then a Palestinian breaks the freeze. "Your side of the screen is encroaching on our side of the screen," he says to the Kosher King gang. An argument ensues. Fade to black.

This is only the first scene in a short film that seems to have it all, from the stereotypical (Palestinians smoke a hookah, there’s a fiddler on the roof of the Kosher King, and the music is identifiably "Middle Eastern meets the musical"), to pun-filled (a border guard mistakes a Palestinian’s "hummus" for the word "Hamas"), to funny (a camel snorts at the climax of a love song). The humor is at times cheesy and other times bittersweet, like the "Death By Chocolate Suicide Bomber" cream puff served by the Hummus Hut. (Oh yes, they went there. Now that’s a line that you laugh at and then instantly feel bad about--before laughing again.)

There's a message in this film too: The hope that food can unite neighbors and love can tear down walls--which, of course, given kosher/halal restrictions and the fact that both groups frown on interfaith relationships, it can’t. Case in point: After meeting Fatima, David is so dizzy in love that he lets the next person at the checkpoint--a sketchy character in full camouflage and a mask--through without challenging him. It’s sweet that these two wacky kids found love, but I found myself thinking that the love-struck soldier probably just caused a suicide bombing.

The humor and music may not appeal to everyone. But there’s a proposed solution in the film's conclusion. After an accidental fire burns down both restaurants, the Israelis and the Palestinians have to to work together to serve up meals to their patrons. Whether or not this kind of resolution has practical applications toward creating a functioning peace process, the point is made: Sandel and the filmmakers (and most of the rest of us) wish it did.