Inside Envelopes

Artistic collaboration is always a complicated endeavor. The desire to realize one’s vision, that creative push is difficult even in the best of situations, the struggle with one’s own inner voices of criticism, always wondering if this is good enough, can it be tweaked just once more to make it just that much better. To do so in collaboration with another is to bring that voice alive, to take it out of your head and vocalize it in another body, one with its own desires, reasoning and logic that at times is at odds with your own. Now add into that already potentially combustible situation a sibling collaboration, and everything is suddenly turned up exponentially.

“Envelopes” is the name of a dance concert featuring two sets of siblings, Israeli dancers, Keren and Reut Levi, and British musicians, (and identical twins), Tom and Alex Parkinson. The concept of the show is to celebrate the kinship ties of blood, music and dance. “Inside Envelopes” takes us into the creative process as these two family groups put together the production.

The three ‘envelopes’, i.e. sections of the show, that we get a look inside of, correspond to the relationships within the group. While the two different sets of siblings is obvious, less so is Karen and Tom. At one point they were in a romantic relationship as well, but as that didn’t work out they maintained a professional one. This just adds fuel to the collaborative fire. Keren is a demanding choreographer, and she expects no less from her partners.

The relationship between Keren and Reut is complicated. With a 12 year age difference, they might have each been only children. By the time Reut came along, Keren was already deeply involved with dance and not really home and as an adult Keren lives in Amsterdam. The “Envelopes” project is a chance for the two of them to, not so much reconnect, as connect in the first place. It is fitting then that their dance has the two connected by a rope, pushing and pulling between them.

Tom and Alex’s “Envelope” is to have the two of them playing music in tandem. While their history is not as complicated as the Levi sisters, they do not often get a chance to play music together these days. For them it is a reconnection. That isn’t to mean that their process is any less complicated than that of the sisters. There may not be a physical rope connecting them, but the emotional one is no less strong. The push and pull to find the correct beat, to open their envelope and read what is inside.

The film understandably pays less attention to the third “Envelope”, that of Keren and Tom, as it doesn’t pack quite the emotional baggage as that of siblings. In fact it isn’t until deep into the film that their former relationship is brought up, though it comes as no surprise. It also serves as the catalyst for one of the blowups that threaten the project. Keren’s assertiveness isn’t only on the dance floor. Or more accurately, her controlling nature, which serves her well as a choreographer and dancer is not conducive to successful personal relationships, whether romantic or familial.

One other thing of interest in the film, is that while Tom and Alex are identical, which understandably makes it difficult to determine who is who, Keren and Reut, in spite of the large age difference between them, bear a striking resemblance to one another. This is accentuated in the “Envelopes” production as they are dressed alike.

Inside Envelopes” is a frank look at the creative process, further complicated by the bonds of sibling-hood.
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Magia Russica

There is something compelling to the animated image that allows it to transcend cultures and becomes timeless. Perhaps it lies in the ability to disregard the natural laws of the world when needed, anthropomorphizing otherwise inanimate objects or the freedom to move without regard to physics or biology. Or maybe it’s just the magic of the moving image. Think of the joy of introducing your children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews to the antics of Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, the nostalgia of Disney films, and the cleverness of the more recent players in the field. In fact the longest running American prime time TV show, The Simpsons, is animated. And yet, all these are largely western products. As any animation aficionado knows there is a thriving scene in Japan, major studios in the UK, and in fact all around the world unique forms of animation can be found. These diverse studios all offer something different than the sanitized American product, something that can only come from that culture. The former Soviet Union was one of them.

Like many other artistic fields, the Soviet socialist government sponsored the art form, and in 1936 the Soyuzmultfilm studio came into existence. The film “Magia Russica” delves into the history of the studio, interviewing several of its key players, from the early years to its eventual breakup with the collapse of the Soviet Union, and screening a choice selection of films the studio put out. Like other arts supported by the government, it was subjected to censorship, however as animation had the “stigma” of being an art form for children its impact was less and the studio managed to produce quite revolutionary films for its time and place. With budgets from the government, and access to movie theatres across the USSR, it managed to create a uniquely Russian form of animation, (not to mention drawing on the wealth of Russian literature and folktales). In fact the infamous Marxist dialectic is at play in director Roman Kachanov’s films, he was known for finding the sad notes in happy scenes, and a smile in sad scenes.

The title of the movie, “Magia Russica” is Latin for Russian magic. Similar to what was mentioned above, when soon to be legendary director Fyodor Khitruk first saw the films of Walt Disney he was blown away. He could not fathom how such pictures could come from a human hand and mind. To him it had to be a kind of magic. Khitruk eventually created his own magic in a version of the classic Winnie the Pooh, which held its own against the Disney version when the creators of the two met. In fact, even though he didn’t use the original drawings, he stayed true to the text, often bringing out aspects of the characters not found in the Disney version.

Besides Khitruk, one other notable director interviewed is Yuri Norstein. Norstetin came on board in the later days of Soyuzmultfilm, though he still managed to direct what is arguably one of the greatest works of animation, “Tale of Tales”. The film was awarded the title “The best Animation film of all times and nations” in the Arts Olympics at Los Angeles in 1983. At the time of filming, he was still active, along with other veterans of the studio, and we are treated to view their current work. While state support has disappeared, and with it the strict censorship, the freedom to create freely comes at a price, namely the automatic state financial support. But the animators continue on, harnessing the “Magia Russica”.

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Thou Shalt Not Dance

Dance has always been intimately intertwined with the sacred. From ancient rites to Sufism, dance has been a way to connect with the divine, in fact in some cultures the dance was a form of religious worship in and of itself. Judaism, with its focus on textual study largely avoided this type of worship. Perhaps it was the loss of the temple in Jerusalem in 70 C.E. and with it its grand ritual pageantry, or maybe it goes further back into biblical prohibitions on joining the various pagan cults of the ancient Near East. However, with the rise of Hasidism in the 18th century, there was a distinct movement to restore the simple joy of singing and dancing into Jewish practice, though this still was only within the purview of religious practice, the serving of God through joy

As there is no specific prohibition on dance in Judaism, there are two issues that the dancers in the documentary film “Thou Shalt Not Dance” need to contend with to maintain their Orthodox Jewish lifestyle. The first, is quite simply the mixing of the sexes. The characters we meet follow a strict interpretation of Jewish law that forbids touching of the opposite sex outside of matrimony. In most dance schools this would be an unsurpassable barrier. Here it is solved by the simple solution of their dance school being for men only. The other, and more complex issue is the social stigma of dance in the community.

The reality is that both issues stem from the same root. The deep sensuality of modern dance is at odds with those same codes of modesty that prohibit contact. Such matters are better kept private, not pranced about in public, let alone celebrated on the stage. Whether this harkens back to those same pagan rituals that biblical Judaism was constantly fighting against, or a more modern view where the artistic lifestyle conflicts with that of an Orthodox Jew doesn’t matter. The men who seek to express themselves through movement are doing something that goes against the grain in their community. It is interesting to find this attitude still persists these days, as members of the Orthodox community have made inroads into the arts and it is no longer so rare to see a kippa clad artist.

What is perhaps not entirely unique about the dancers featured in the film, is that they are so clearly dancers from their inner soul. Whether it’s about overcoming PTSD or as a method to find deeper meaning in Talmudic study, the moment at which they discovered movement as a form of expression it became a part of them. They are dancers, even if at times they may come across as less than professional. The desire burns in them, to move, to dance. And it is this what drives them to the central event of the film.

As outliers in the Orthodox Jewish world, they put on a show so that their friends and family can see what they have been doing the previous three years. While it would be an 80s movie cliché to say that the continuation of their dance school is dependent on the success of the show, that is not far from the truth. However it is more than that. It is a chance to really be dancers: on the stage in front of an audience, to feel the spotlights and hear the crowd. To determine whether it is a passing whim, or truly a calling. The result of their show will lead to them to face a larger question of how to continue balancing these two seemingly incompatible desires, to follow the strictures of an Orthodox Jewish lifestyle and modern dance. Can one find the balance between the two, or is one relegated to “Thou Shalt Not Dance”?

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More Alive than Dead – Freud Still Affects All of Us Deep Down From His Grave

In 2007 Apple Inc. released the first version of their eponymous iPhone. Over the years subsequent releases of the newer models became cultural events, where consumers would stand outside in lines for hours, if not days, to become one of the very first owners of the latest offering from Apple. It didn’t matter that they had done the very same thing not more than a year or so earlier for the previous model, or that that phone was certainly still a viable device. Those people became consumed by the materialistic desire to own the latest, greatest most up to date device possible. But it goes beyond technology. The desire for branded goods, simply because they carry a name has become a part of the modern world.
This crass commercialism is just one of the myriad ways in which the influence of Freudian thought has penetrated western culture. These days we take for granted the influence of the subconscious on our actions and the deep neurosis of our sexuality (even my use of the words subconscious and neurosis here betrays the unconscious influence of Freud… And again, my use of the word “unconscious”…). In fact it could be said that the success of Freud has outgrown even his attempts at curing his patients of their various psychoses. As the film “More Alive Than Dead” demonstrates, even after his death, Freud still has an influence over us. In some ways, he is still alive.
However, in spite of the enormous influence of Freudian psychoanalysis, there are still those that disagree with him. The film More Alive than Dead introduces us to some of these figures, while mostly academics, they include artists and others. For some of them, their willingness to question the almost godlike status of Freudian psychoanalysis is tantamount to a betrayal of society itself. However, it is refreshing to hear the viewpoints of those who are willing to go as far as calling Freud out as a grandstander. The reality is that the “father of Psychoanalysis” was likely just as neurotic as he made out his patients to be, at least in his desire for the limelight. Even putting aside the argument that the whole thing is a sham, that he exploited his patients for self-promotion, if we take it as proven that Freud is correct in his theories, it wasn’t the proverbial “Eureka” moment. The development of psychoanalysis was a team effort. As the film highlights, it was probably Sigmund Freud who pushed himself forward as the public face. Perhaps he was just harnessing his theories in an early form of public relations using Freudian thought to encourage the promulgation of psychoanalysis as much as himself. And in fact, public relations and advertising today, owe as much to Freud as anyone.
At the time, it was a shocking revelation coming as it did at the tail end of the Victorian age and its extreme codes of morality. To publicly say that our actions are defined by our unconscious sexual desires was scandalous. Could it have just been a cause célèbre that tickled the fancy of the public for its outrageous (at the time) revelations? There must be something to it, otherwise the theories would not have become so prevalent in our times. Psychoanalysis has found its way into virtually every aspect of modern life. Besides the above mentioned commercialist application of “desire”, it has been co-opted as a theory to explain all sorts of things. We see it in every TV show and film where we attempt to understand the reasons behind the characters’ actions (Hitchcock for instance was an early adapter and Freudian thought is all over his films). It is in every ad campaign that uses sexuality to sell the product, and in every cry of conservative morality against such use. It is virtually impossible to avoid Freud in one way or another in the modern age. As the film so succinctly puts it, Freud really is “More Alive than Dead”.

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Miss Bluwstein Rachel

Rachel, better known as Rachel the Poetess in Israel, lived an almost clichéd life of a poet. Coming from a large family, number 11 of twelve, she was introduced to literature and the arts as a child. She began writing poetry at a young age, at first in Russian, only later in Hebrew. She was free with her love, her social circle was comprised of many of the main Zionist thinkers of the time, and when she found herself trapped back in Europe during WWI, she went to work in a children’s orphanage where she contracted tuberculosis. The disease would plague her the rest of her life, eventually forcing her to leave Kibbutz Degania, near the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) and live out the rest of her life in Tel Aviv. It was here, in the last years of her life, that she wrote most of her poetry. She died at the age of 40 and was buried overlooking her beloved Kinneret. This is the story told in “Miss Bluwstein Rachel”, (one of a series titled “The Hebrews”).

It is perhaps in the waves Kinneret lapping the shores that Rachel found her voice. Having arrived in Palestine without speaking Hebrew, she and her sister learned from listening to young children, who themselves were too acclimating to the new language. Eventually she made her way to Kvutzat Kinneret on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, where she studied and worked in a women’s agricultural school and became involved with many of the luminaries of the Zionist movement, including A.D. Gordon, with whom she had a dialog. However, while in this circle, she stayed on the fringes, looking in from the outside, never comfortable becoming a full member of this group. Later, after coming back from Europe, she found herself drawn again to the shores of the Kinneret.

Her poetry reflects both the simplistic nature of the method by which she learned her Hebrew and the fluidity of the Sea of Galilee. Additionally, she was exposed to trends in art from around the world that many of her peers were unaware of, or flat out rejected. She absorbed all these influences and integrated them into her art. At times derided for her language, it is that very same language that solidified her place in the pantheon of Israeli poets. Not surprisingly, many of her poems have been put to music as her language, already musical, adapts easily to the medium. The film takes advantage of this with a guitarist composing music to her poetry on the spot. I imagine that even to a non-Hebrew speaker, the flow of her words can be picked up with no need to understand their meaning. The film also uses short animated segments to depict Rachel at work, with her thick hair flowing out, looking like the flow of ink to the paper. However it could just as easily be the waves of the Sea of Galilee as they ebb and tide through her mind, influencing her writing.

The impact of Rachel’s poetry has left an impression far outlasting the short life of its creator. Like many of the others who left an outsized imprint on the newly revived Hebrew language, her legacy is found in the ongoing popularity of her works. The film is a lasting testament to a poet for the ages. Watch the full movie

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The Raven – Vladimir Zeev Jabotinsky

There is an easy tendency to consider Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s legacy as a purely political effort. After all, he did establish Revisionist Zionism, the ancestor of today’s modern Likud party. In the pre state era it stood as the main ideological competitor to the dominant social Labor Zionists, and in considering today’s political landscape and length of time in which the Likud has maintained the Israeli Premiership, it would seem that it has far surpassed its earlier competitor. However, the film “The Raven” (one of a series titled “The Hebrews”), only delves into Jabotinsky’s political life insofar as it relates to his other, and in many ways more lasting achievement, as one of the voices involved in the fabrication of the modern Hebrew language. His use of language, particularly in his translations, did wonders for enriching the emerging tongue. Coming up with new and interesting methods to not only change the words into Hebrew, he also conceived of new additions to convey meaning and tone, the underlying cultural subtext of language that often gets lost in translation.

Quite possibly the most amazing thing about Jabotinsky’s life, is that even though he was a high school dropout, he became a man of letters in 8 or 9 different languages, attaining proficiency in almost all of them. When he chose to improve his Hebrew, he elected not to rely on the use of a dictionary, but rather with warts and all make his mistakes as they come. In the process he refined his language abilities, which would become useful later as a translator.

It wasn’t until later in his life that he became interested in the Jewish issue. The early part of his life the connection with his people was trivial at best. It took a train ride, in third class, through the heart of Eastern European Jewry to expose him to what would ultimately transform him into one of the most influential Jewish Zionist figures. He would say that he heard more Yiddish in that one train ride, then all his previous life. The intensity of his experience would change him forever.

Of course, it wasn’t just his way with the burgeoning Hebrew language. He proposed and eventually succeeded in establishing the Jewish Legion of the British Army, the first Jewish fighting force in nearly 2,000 years, not to mention Jewish self-defense groups in Russia. He also had a vision for moving the bulk of Polish Jews to Palestine, in 1936, years before the actual outbreak of war and the implementation of “The Final Solution”. The plan stalled when the British government prevented it.

Without a doubt Ze’ev Vladimir Jabotinsky was a man of many layers. His everlasting impact on the Jewish people, and the Zionist project in Palestine is felt even today. That is in contrast to the end of his life. He never did find his way as a Zionist leader in the land of Israel. After the British banned him from Palestine, he wandered the world. This more properly fit his cosmopolitan attitudes. In spite of his military life, he preferred the acculturated lifestyle. And perhaps that is fitting for a man of letters who profoundly changed not only the politics of the Jews, but the way in which their ancient language became a modern, living breathing entity. Watch the full movie

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Zelda: A Simple Woman

It’s not surprising that the poet Zelda was a descendent of Rabbinic dynasties on both sides of her family. In fact, on her father’s side she was the first cousin of Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the seventh Chabad Rabbi. Her roots are reflected not only in her poetry, but in the way she lived her life, which is examined in “Zelda: A Simple Woman”, (part of the series “The Hebrews”).

Like many other of the poets in the series, she was not born in Palestine, however she did arrive at a young age, 12, with her parents. Soon after her father died, and she was left to care for her mother. This was to be a defining characteristic of Zelda. In some ways being responsible for her mother led her to poetry. She wanted to become a painter, but after her mother fell ill shortly after she began her studies in Jerusalem, Zelda returned to her. Unable to complete a formal education in painting, she turned to poetry. She also began teaching at this time.

Much later, when her and her mother moved back to Jerusalem, at the age of 36, she met Hayim Mishovsky and married him. He fell ill soon after their marriage, and along with her mother she cared for him as well. He encouraged her writing. It was after her marriage that she gave up teaching to write full time. Hayim would celebrate the release of each of her new poems. In all aspects it was a happy marriage. His passing away would affect her greatly, and would be reflected in her works afterwards. As one of those interviewed in the film remark, many of the Hebrew poets dealt with loneliness and loss too. However, it was Zelda who uniquely dealt with the loneliness and loss of widowhood in her poetry.

After Hayim’s passing, childless, Zelda took in boarders, young women, students who became devoted to her. It seems like she always had to be caring for someone.

Her poetry is highly spiritual while at the same time quite direct, and her deep faith can be seen in her words. It is complex, layered with religious meaning. While one does not need an understanding of Judaism to appreciate the meaning of her work, they do assume the reader possess this knowledge, and doing so gives access to these deeper layers. In fact, one of her poems, “Every Person Has A Name”, which has achieved mythical status as the poem recited during Holocaust memorial services, while on the surface seems simple, is in reality a highly complex narrative on the nature of man.

One of the fascinating aspects of the film, is as a persona who lived during relatively recent times, we have film footage of Zelda talking and reading her poetry. This the movie uses to great effect. The dichotomy between the complexity of her words, and her simple, unadorned visage, bring us closer to this phenomenal woman. It would not be a stretch to think that in another life and time, she herself would have been a Hassidic Rabbi, surrounded by her court of followers. Instead, the world was blessed with a brilliant poet in “Zelda: A Simple Woman”.

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Brenner – The Awakener

Writers often live larger than life, and the few who reach a lofty height of acknowledgment in their own lifetimes, can have their passing celebrated as well. However, it is not often that the circumstances of their death become a story in and of themselves, and cast a shadow on their accomplishments. That is what happened on May 2, 1921 in the “Red House” just outside of Jaffa, Palestine to the Hebrew writer Yosef Haim Brenner. The film “The Awakener”, (one of the series “The Hebrews”, depicting important writers of the Hebrew language), uses this event to frame the life of one of the most important figures of the reawakening of Hebrew as a modern literary language.

Like many of the early Zionist, Brenner was born to a religious family and spent time studying in yeshivas (institutes of higher Jewish learning), until at the age of 12 he met Uri Nissan Gnessin the son of the yeshiva head and himself an important figure in the revival of Hebrew literature. Somewhat controversially, director Yair Qedar choose this relationship to remark on Brenner’s possible homosexuality. While it is still up for debate among scholars as to the nature of Brenner’s sexuality, it is clear that this relationship not only fundamentally changed him, but had a unique intimacy. When he did marry, for a short period of time, he named his only son after his friend. It was also as a result of the friendship that Brenner seriously turned to writing. His possible sexuality and depression (whether brought about by that, or simply his nature), clearly had an effect on his writing.

Beyond his actual writing, what solidified Brenner in the pantheon of Hebrew writers, was the journal he started after arriving in London. Titled “HaMe’orer” (The Awakener, hence the title of the film), it served as the only Hebrew language publication at the time that was dedicated to Hebrew as a specific literary language.

Like many of his contemporaries, he only came to Palestine at a late age. At first he tried manual labor but very quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn’t for him. So he went back to what he knew, writing and publishing.

Eventually he found himself living on the outskirts of Jaffa in the eponymous Red House. It was there that he would find his end. The previous day violence had broken out between Arabs and Jews in Jaffa, and the residents of the Red House were requested to evacuate it. For various reasons Brenner did not. It was that decision that would end his life at the age of 40, having not seen his son since he was a small child and left Palestine with his mother.

The film approaches Brenner’s murder by utilizing the police reports to create a kind of true crime docudrama wrapping the biography of the writer. Using the actual words from the reports, from witnesses, the policemen on the scene, etc. gives a sense of foreboding to the already grim tale. While paradoxical to his Zionist beliefs, Brenner would not have wanted to become a Zionist symbol, nevertheless, that is what he became in death. However, his true testament is the words he left behind in “awakening” Hebrew as a modern, literary language.

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The Seven Tapes – Yona Wallach

There are transformative artists who burst onto the scene with such raw power and explosiveness, that it is impossible to ignore them. Their voice, so unique that even in their own times they are recognized for who and what they are. So, it’s not surprising that the energy of poet Yona Wallach comes through in the film “The Seven Tapes”, (one of the series “The Hebrews”, detailing those literary voices who transformed the Hebrew language). The title of the film comes from an interview of Wallach in 1984, shortly before she died of cancer. It was only more than 25 years later that these tapes were found.

The film itself is divided according to each of the tapes. We are able to hear her voice, as she reflects back on her life. She grew up without her father, who was killed in the Israeli War of Independence, and spent much of her childhood unsupervised at her mother’s place of work, the movie theatre. Already as a child she lived in a fantastical world. Later, she was admitted, for the first of two times to a psychiatric hospital. There she submitted to psychological experiments with LSD, something that was common at the time. The film posits that her poetry may have come about from a case of an untreated (or improperly treated) mental illness. For that matter, how much did the residual affects of her LSD treatments factor in?

Whatever the source of her creativity, without a doubt she was something new in Hebrew literature. There is a beating heart of sexuality in her works, clearly reflecting its creator. She was as much a creator as a member of the bohemian community of Tel Aviv of the 1960s, and its attendant sexual mores and drug use (not unlike as was happening elsewhere in the world). In fact, in the film one of her boyfriends remarks that when he first met her, he was unclear who in the house was a friend, lover, or otherwise, male or female. This wild scene is ironic, as later in her life she decried the imposition people made on her time, that it interfered with her writing.

Without a doubt she was a product of her times. It would be difficult to consider the rawness of her poetry, the sexuality which she exuded being accepted in an earlier era. Her poetry is rife with gender word play, which fits her persona. She did not accept that there was a difference in the poetry of women or men. Beyond her poetry, she lived according to the sexual norms of men.

Like other films in the series, it utilizes animations of the poems in an attempt to visualize the written word, with each animation fitting the style of the respective poet. In this film they are restless and explosive, like their creator. But underlying all the energy is a loneliness. Whether she just had an untreated mental disease, or it was something else, without a doubt Yona Wallach was a force unlike any seen before in the Hebrew literary scene, as she narrates herself in her “Seven Tapes”.

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The 5 Houses of Lea Goldberg

In 1969 the poet Lea Goldberg filled out a questionnaire of the Israeli writers’ guild. In it she was asked how many books she had written. “Too many”, she answered. To the question, “Where can one see you?” she gave her home address and visiting hours as an answer. Asked if she’d write her life story for the guild, she answered: “I will not write an autobiography”. A few months later she passed away. In many ways these enigmatic answers encapsulated the poet. Even though she did not herself write an autobiography, we have the documentary “The Five Houses of Lea Goldberg” to introduce us to her life story and contributions to Hebrew literature. (The film is one of a series, “The Hebrews”, about the writers who contributed to the development of Hebrew literature).

The film’s title is a reference to one of Goldberg’s most famous children’s book, “A Flat for Rent”. It relates the tale of an apartment building made up of five different floors, where each one is occupied by a different animal tenant. When one moves out, it leave a flat open for rent. It is a story about coexistence and a thinly veiled metaphor for the communal harmony of the kibbutz. It was here, with children’s stories, that Goldberg found great success. Many of her works are still considered classics of children’s literature.

Much like other poets, there is a thread of loneliness that weaves through her work. The film traces this to the single moment when her father was taken from her when the family was crossing the Lithuanian border when she was eight years old. As a result of WWI the Goldberg family was forced to wander Russia. When they eventually made their way back home, they were stopped at the border. Her father was wearing yellow shoes, with a reddish hue. This was enough to accuse him of being a communist. Every day, for ten days he is threatened with a fake execution, until her mother decided to take action, leaving Lea all alone to guard their belongings. This time of solitude would stay with her for the rest of her life. Though they did manage to return to their home, her father never recovered emotionally from the incident. It is at this time that Lea begins her schooling and is discovered to be an excellent student. By the age of fifteen, she already saw herself as a writer, as a way out of her lonely existence.

Eventually she did gain the lofty status of wordsmith, not just for her works, but also as a senior lecturer in literature at the Hebrew University, eventually as the head of the Department of Comparative Literature.

For a woman who gave so much joy to children through her books and poetry, she never married, never had a child of her own. She lived with her mother until her death at the age of 58 from lung cancer. Perhaps it was that seminal event from her childhood that sent her into loneliness, but grew her imagination. Whatever the case, it is clear that there is a room open for all of us in “The Five Houses of Leah Goldberg”.

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