Rechov Sumsum: Muppets B'Ivrit

With Chanukah upon us, I began contemplating Israeli media. There have been a number of cultural entertainment exchanges between The United States and Israel, the most recent being HBO's tense, intimate therapy drama In Treatment based on Hagai Levi's Betipul. Way back in 1979, long-time Sesame Workshop employee Dr. Lewis Bernstein pitched the idea to bring the popular Sesame Street muppets to Israel. The result was a series of shows, beginning with 1982's Rechov Sumsum. Rechov Sumsum is a literal translation of "Sesame Street". Its main characters are Kippi, a giant hedgehog who acts as a surrogate Big Bird and his friend Moishe, a brown version of Oscar the Grouch. The show ran for four very successful seasons and the characters remained popular long after the last episode aired. In addition to original segments, some American-produced portions were dubbed in Hebrew and put together with Kippi and friends. After the original Rechov Sumsum finished its run a collaborative US-Israeli production called Shalom Sesame aired in the mid-80's and early-90's. This version featured both Rechov Sumsum characters as well as the very recognizable muppets from the original American Sesame Street. It's always fun to listen to Burt and Ernie carrying on in a foreign language. Following Rechov Sumsum and Shalom Sesame was a short Israeli-Palestinian co-production called Shara'a Simsim, the name simply being the Arabic equivalent. This version proved less popular and it lasted only a single season. After the relative failure of Shara'a Simsim a more segmented program called Sippuray Sumsum ("Sesame Stories") replaced it. Rather than attempting to combine the various cultures of the Middle East into one show, three separate shows were produced to be aired in their respective territories. More recently, the attempt to make a Sesame Street-like program representing modern Israeli-Palestinian cooperation has been more successful. A 2006-2007 rebranding of Rechov Sumsum features characters that speak both Hebrew and Arabic, some Jewish, some Muslim, even some who have immigrated from Eastern Europe. Even today, it's considered fairly progressive to market and make a show accessible to children on both sides of the divide. It's strange for those of us in The United States to think of children's programming like that, but in many parts of the world there are strong political implications to even the most innocent-seeming media. The conflict in Israel-Palestine has spilled over into the lives of the young on multiple occasions. Last year there was significant international concern over a Hamas-produced program called "Tomorrow's Pioneers" featuring a Mickey-Mouse-like character named Farfour that often espoused militant political opinions. In the final episode, Farfour was depicted being graphically beaten by an Israeli official, followed by the co-host, a little girl, reading the names of other martyrs to the cause from a note card. Whereas many Western kid's shows follow a stage-production model, These sorts of things often open up dialogues concerning the role of children's programming in their education. Is it entertainment? Is it moral and political indoctrination? While it is certainly absurd to believe a mere television show could sway a child one way or another on complex social issues, it is still valid to contemplate the impact an early encouragement toward cooperation might have on a rising generation.

Anime Friday: Spirited Away

My friend Andy is a lover of all things Japanese, especially anime. Me? I never quite understood it. It’s not that I actively dislike anime, it’s just that the appeal of it just doesn’t quite register with me. Maybe I’ve seen the wrong films or have been subjected to particularly bad dubbing. At Andy’s request, I’ve decided to give anime another shot in a feature called Anime Friday. Every week, I will be watching one feature-length anime film or a respectable portion of an anime TV series and recording my reactions here on Foreign Entertainment. I won’t be selecting films at random, either. I will strictly follow a list provided to me by a concurring panel of conversant anime fans. Also at their insistence, I will be watching everything with subtitles unless specifically encouraged to experience a well-acted dub. Without further ado, let’s jump in with Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away. This particular film was recommended to me as an introduction to the genre because it’s apparently specific enough to Japanese culture to be genuine, but not enough to confuse a neophyte gaijin like myself. In Andy’s words, “It’s like anime Disney.” Spirited Away concerns the convoluted quest of a little girl named Chihiro to escape the spa-like castle of a witch named Yubaba. Along the way, Chihiro gets some help from a dragon named Haku and a series of odd creatures, like little black things I’ve been told are dust spirits. By far the most interesting and confounding character in the entire movie (which is saying a lot) is a spirit everyone calls No Face, on account of his being an amorphous black clot that wears a mask. Right off the bat I can say that I enjoyed the surreal qualities of Spirited Away, like when Chihiro discovers that her parents have been transformed into pigs. I also liked how No Face spent most of the movie lurking around without any clear motives. It’s nice to see an anime that doesn’t have such a transparent good guy/bad guy dynamic. Still, frustration set in for me when the clunky, nonsensical storytelling elements took center stage. When the movie started spouting bits about true names, river spirits and twin sisters, my mind shut down. I’m willing to go along for the ride of what basically plays like just another magical coming of age story, but when the oh-so-typical nature vs. civilization malarkey starts to poke its way in, it’s really more distracting than morally conscious. The Wizard of Oz this most certainly ain’t. In the end, I think that’s going to be the running dialogue throughout this Anime Friday endeavor. Why is it that anime never really cliqued with me where so many other modes of storytelling beyond my own culture have so easily appealed to me? Watching Spirited Away, I’m inclined to say that the medium’s tendency to diverge from otherwise engaging, focused storytelling turns me off. Final Assessment Comprehension: 8/10- There were a few moments of confusion, but all in all I understood what was going on. Enjoyment: 7/10- Miyazaki created a vivid world distinct from many lazy conventions of anime, but the third act really dragged and there were a lot of superfluous bits I could have done without. Improvement of Understanding: 6/10- Spirited Away definitely gave me a better idea of anime as a genre, especially since it involved something more serious than giant robots. Still, I’ve got a long way to go before it’s easy to internalize a few thousand years of foreign folklore. Next Week: Howl’s Moving Castle

Cinema a la Canada #1: Lie With Me

In 2005, Clement Virgo worked with novelist Tamara Berger to adapt her book, Lie With Me, for the screen. The film premiered at the Toronto Film Festival, but it didn't get any recognition beyond its soundtrack by Broken Social Scene. It's understandable why Lie With Me got lost in the swirl of the modern day independent film scene. Its selling points aren't exactly unique. By the middle of this decade, explicit sexual content in non-pornographic films became a fast cliche within indie circles, especially when it was used in dire arthouse pictures. The difference between Lie With Me and other films like The Brown Bunny or Ken Park is that the sex isn't really a device for shock or edge. Rather, it's the entire story. Lauren Lee Smith plays Leila, a hyper-sexual 20-something in the middle of a particularly stormy period of her life. With an apartment full of porn and a propensity for random hookups on any given night of the week, Leila looks more like an addict the further the story progresses. It's a shame that's not where the plot ends up. Rather than being a frank depiction of sex addiction, Lie With Me is often an unnecessary romantic drama about gorgeous people being passive-agressive. The object of affection in the more conventional part of the story is David, played by Eric Balfour. Leila meets David while the two of them have simultaneous sexual encounters outside of a nightclub; David with his girlfriend and Leila with some random dweeb we ought to never see again, but unfortunately do in the overwrought third act. What follows the nightclub scene is the single most beautiful moment in the entire movie. In a hazy-sunny suburban neighborhood, Leila wanders on the way to her parent's house, only to stumble upon David's truck. Once she gets his attention, a dream-like chase ensues with unexpected changes of pace and a fortunate silencing of Leila's voiceover. When the two would-be lovers stop at a playground, Leila displays a moment of exhibitionism that rockets past eroticism into a much more primal, even disturbing place. David (who acts as an audience stand-in for normal people) reacts accordingly, running away. Like a great many films, Lie With Me would work a lot better as a short, stopping after 45 minutes or less. As gorgeous as the sunny chase scene is, Virgo diminishes it by using the same device later. It's too common a problem with filmmakers to mistake sophomorism with symmetry. As for the story itself, Berger either had no idea what potential her characters had, or she wasn't brave enough to follow through. Leila makes herself miserable with her promiscuity, but she never experiences any lasting consequences for screwing over the people who care about her. Lie With Me certainly wouldn't benefit from a streak of puritanism, but that doesn't mean the happy ending we're given is any less absurd or incongruous. Lie With Me had all the potential to be the Trainspotting of sex addiction. Had it gone in that direction, I have no doubt it would be hailed as a great achievement. The story sets up an excellent parallel between the empty sexual intimacy pursued by Leila and the meaningful familial intimacy embraced by David while he takes care of his ailing father. The explicit scenes are so frequent and unflinching that desensitization soon settles in. The first half of the film sets up an intricate house of emotional cards that look like they're waiting for a fierce wind. When that disaster never comes, the result is just another tacked-on happily ever after.

An Introduction Riding In On A White Horse

Hello, bonjour, buenos dias, guten tag, zdrastuvoy, konichiwa, etc, etc. Welcome to Foreign Entertainment, a blog dedicated to importing the wide world of non-US art and media to audiences who may never have found it otherwise. Today, you can call me Mikhail Leonardovich. Put on your warmest coat because we're traveling to Russia, home of some of the finest art, music and cinema that doesn't get wide distribution in the Anglophone world. Yozhik v Tumane, aka "Hedgehog in the Fog" is a unique work of animation from 1975. Written by Sergei Kozlov and directed by Yuriy Norshteyn, it is a surreal and occasionally frightening take on the otherwise familiar modes of a children's story. Our protagonist, Yozhik (Hedgehog) is on his way to have tea with his friend, Bear Cub. The art and pacing encourage a feeling of panic and steadily creeping paranoia. In the first few seconds of the film, we see Yozhik running across hills rather than strolling along a well-lit road. It's fairly obvious that he belongs to a much more difficult world. He runs through a disorienting sequence while telling himself how calm his tea time with Bear Cub will be, though none of the visual clues are at all reassuring. As night falls, Yozhik stumbles into a foggy forest where he sees a beautiful white horse grazing. While this is ostensibly a children's cartoon, Yozhik v Tumane establishes its dark undertones early with lines like, "I wonder... if the horse lies down to sleep, will it choke in the fog?" It's easy to project a cautionary moral onto this film. Yozhik, however nervous, descends into the fog himself out of an infatuation with the horse. Depending on the viewer, this can be a story about lust, temptation, recklessness, curiosity, or the dangers of striking out on one's own into alluring but unfamiliar territory. Unlike most fables, Yozhik v Tumane is roundly ambiguous to the very end. The protagonist is accosted by a variety of creatures, none of which have clear motives. None of them harm him, though there's no guarantee that none of them have the intention of harming him. An owl occasionally pops up behind Yozhik, a dog stalks from far away before showing a hint of benevolence. Most disconcertingly, when it appears that all is lost and Yozhik will drown in a river, a creature hidden below the surface offers itself as a raft, never to reveal itself or its impetus. The murky visuals and shuddering protagonist keep Yozhik v Tumane far away from the all's-well conventions familiar to Western audiences who grew up with Disney. Yozhik never smiles, never gives a warranted sigh of relief. In the end, rather than interpreting his survival as proof that the world and all those in it are basically good, Yozhik sits wide-eyed by a fire, unable to fully engage in small talk. He has undergone a transformative experience that shook him at the outset and never quite left his thoughts thereafter. The dream-like feel of Yozhik v Tamane is the result of mixed-media stop motion animation. Using such diverse materials as glass and paper to create the desired effects, Norshteyn produced one of the most enduring, internationally beloved shorts in history. Though the darkness and complexity may have kept this gem away from some audiences in their early years, it's never too late to discover something unique and captivating.

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