News, Views, and Shmooze....

Bada Bing..and No Bang

I've been a fan of the Sopranos from the second season, primarily because I was impressed by the realness of the family dynamics. Although I found many of Tony's actions despicable, I did feel sympathy for him--until he snuffed out his nephew's life. But having "known" Tony and his family for over six years, I didn't want to see him or his wife and children killed. During the last two episodes, the tension was so intense that I left the room several times, unable to watch the bloodbath I was certain was coming.

To Cable Card or Not to Cable Card?

I bought a new 27 inch LCD Sharp TV, the kind you can mount on a wall if you want to. It's HD ready, and has a slot for a cable card. The TV is for our newly redecorated bedroom, with the lovely green walls. It goes on our dresser.

"You'll be sorry," my husband warned. "The room looks serene now."

"You think it's serene?" I said.

"The TV will ruin that. And why do we need it? We don't watch much upstairs."

"It's a pretty TV," I said. "We don't watch TV in the bedroom because our TV screen is small. And it's too low to see well because it sits on the cart."

"Suit yourself," he says.

I find the TV via Pricegrabber.com at Butterfly Photo. It's a great price, and I buy it on June 18, Father's Day, and the last day I can get the $100 rebate. The Butterfly guy urges me to buy several ancillary products. I'm tempted, but after checking with my son-in-law,  I decline.

"Suit yourself," the Butterfly guy says.

Not really - but that was his tone.

The TV arrives earlier than expected. I'd opted for the least expensive ground shipping, but the people at Butterfly shipped the set second-day air at no extra charge, although "second-day" turned into almost a week, because of bad weather in the east. My husband's warning is in my head, so I'm anxious as I remove the TV from the carton that one of Otto's guys (Otto is the floor man) shlepped upstairs for me.

It's fine. I place the set on the dresser. Large, but still fine. I rearrange a vase with flowers, my Bombay Company jewelry box, a heart-shaped Limoge box my friend Liz gave me for a birthday years ago, a heart-shaped ring-holder my husband gave me for Mother's Day when I was a young mom.

I phone my husband. "The TV looks fine."

"Okay. Glad you're happy."

My oldest son stops by. "Nice," he says, checking out the TV. He hooks up the cable box, which we'd moved temporarily to another bedroom.

"You're all set," my son says. "Get the DVR."

"Maybe." We have Tivo on our downstairs TV, and I love it.

I don't love the cable box sitting on my dresser. It's ugly. It's big.

I call Comcast about the cable card.

"There's a $29 installation fee, but after that, the first cable card is free," the woman tells me.

"Sounds good," I say.

"But you can't do anything interactive."

"Meaning?"

"No Pay Per View."

That doesn't bother me. I've never paid per view. "What else?"

"No On-Demand."

Hmmmn.

"No guide."

Oh. That one bothers me. I love the guide, love reading the brief synopsis of the program.

"And if something goes wrong with the service," the woman continues, "we can't trouble-shoot it from here. We'd have to send someone out."

I thank her and Google "cable cards." I learn that everything she told me is correct, but there are cable-card fans who say reception is much better with the card, that the cable companies try to discourage customers from getting card because they have to provide the card gratis and they lose revenue on the boxes.

Still,  no guide?

The cable box sure is ugly. It disturbs the decor.

Via Google I find a two-tier wood TV box/turntable that can house the cable box. Nicer, but over $100. And it's still "there."

"What if we put the box on top of our armoire and beam the remote at it?" I ask my husband.

He shows me the three wires that go from the cable box to the TV.

"We can run them under the carpet," I suggest.

He looks at me.

I'm ordering the cable card today.

I'll miss the guide.

Law & Disorder

Okay, this comes late, but I'm still bothered by the December 7 episode of Law & Order, Bible Story. Here's the official summary:

Jeffrey Kilgore is found murdered after destroying the Speicher chumash, which has been brought to American from Poland years earlier. Green and Fontana follow the trail of evidence to Barry Speicher, who confesses to the murder, but it's his cousin Eric that McCoy has his eye on after Barry's wife tells them that Eric had everything to gain by Barry going to prison. McCoy and Borgia pursue the matter to trial, but their star witness turns on them.

What the summary leaves out is the relentlessly negative characterizaion of Speicher, an Orthodox Jew, and the other Jews in the episode. Speicher is not only a killer. He is also a hypocrite, a man bereft of morals and integrity, a man who left his first wife because she was barren, a man who sneaks away from his new wife and their multiple children every Friday afternoon to pay for lap dances, along with other Orthodox members of his congregation.

"The rabbis tell us that a man who is happy will make his wife happy," one of the Orthodox Jewish lap-dance recipients tells the police while the dancer is doing her thing on his lap.

Twisted theology, with echoes of the title story in Nathan Englander's celebrated debut collection, For the Relief of Unbearable Urges.

Fiction, not reality.

Is it possible that an Orthodox man would sin and visit a lap dance establishment? Yes. That Orthodox men would do it in a group? Highly implausible. That they would they react the way this character did, with mocking nonchalance? No.

Barry Speicher's cousin Eric, is embittered against the Orthodoxy he left and against Barry, who has rejected Eric's non-Jewish wife and, more significantly, has steadfastly refused to sell the synagogue the cousins co-own, a property worth millions for which they receive only a pittance in rent. So Eric hired Kilgore to vandalize the shul and desecrate the cherished family chumash (the Pentateuch) and create the perception that the synagogue is unsafe and should be sold.

The synagogue's rabbi, we learn, had accompanied Speicher senior to Europe to retrieve the chumash. But on the witness stand, the rabbi reveals that this chumash wasn't the one Speicher senior had hidden during the Holocaust. Speicher and the rabbi had searched for it in vain. And then, not wanting to disappoint his family, Speicher had bought a chumash in Poland (I imagine that it's hard to find a chumash in tourist shops in Poland...). Back in the States, he presented it as "the one."

The rabbi, apparently, doesn't have a big problem with this. It's the symbolism, he insists. We can believe in the miracle of this chumash, he says, just as we believe in the symbolism of the splitting of the Red Sea and other Biblical miracles.

Really?

Orthodox Jews believe that Moses split the Red Sea. They believe in the authenticity and divinity of everything in the bible narrative.

So, let's see:

We have an Orthodox Jewish rabbi dispensing unOrthodox theology and upholding the fiction behind the family chumash.

We have Eric, a greedy Jew who engineers the desecration of a Jewish book that results in someone's death.

We have Barry, an Orthodox Jewish killer, all-around louse, and frequenter of lap dancers who recants his testimony against Eric when he learns the chumash isn't "the one."

My father lied to me, he says. It's all a lie.

"It"?

Greed, brazen immorality, hypocrisy, lies.

According to Law & Order, that's Orthodox Judaism.

Please "Come Back"

Last I heard, HBO hasn't decided if The Comback will come back. I have to admit I was apprehensive about watching Lisa Kudrow playing Valerie Cherish, a has-been sit-com star whose attempt to resurrect her career is being televised as a reality show. A show within a show. It sounded too much like Kirsty Alley's "Fat," which I found tawdry and pathetic and unnecessarily vulgar.

And I wasn't sure I could make the transition from Kudrow as ditzy Phoebe in "Friends,"  or that she could sustain a half-hour show without Monica, Ross, Rachel, Joey, and Chandler.

Kudrow shines as Valerie. I find her captivatingly, aned sometimes painfully real, believable, nuanced. She is wistful and funny, hopeful--almost desperate--that this sit-com will earn her another "People's Choice" award; pretending not to care that she is being given fewer and fewer scenes in each episode, that the scenes in which she does appear strip her of dignity and make her the butt of peurile humor; ignoring the insufferable cruelty of Paulie G, one of the sit-com writers, who enjoys humiliating Valerie (in last Sunday's episode, she finally has enough of Paulie); bravely--and, genuinely I think--congratulating her ingenue co-star, Juna (Malin Akerman) when Juna makes the cover of a national magazine, and again when she's nominated for Best New Actress. (Kudos to the Comeback writers, by the way, for not making Juna a stereotypical All-About-Evish manipulator.)

Maybe I find the show so watchable because I relate to Valerie's insecurities, her dreams, her disappointments.

Thirty minutes go by too quickly. So has the television season.

Entertainment Weekly Asks: Does Violence Against Women Entertain?

This week's Entertainment Weekly reports a disturbing trend of increased violence against women in television programming:

A woman thrashes in a cage, layers of duct tape blinding her, a rag gagging her, as her faceless captor's male hands grab her fingers to clip her bloodied nails. Another is chained up in her basement in a dog collar, courtesy of her husband. Still another lies paralyzed by venomous spider bites as a masked figure rapes her.

All three are victims of an increasingly violent and disturbing serial killer: TV's procedural drama. The white-hot genre reinvented by "Law & Order" and further popularized by "CSI" has birthed a trio of new fall shows -- "Criminal Minds" and "Close to Home" on CBS and "Killer Instinct" on Fox -- featuring plots that reach distressing levels of brutality against women. ''I haven't seen pure gruesomeness like this on TV before,'' says Jeffrey Sconce, an associate professor in Northwestern University's radio, TV, and film department, who viewed fall pilots for Entertainment Weekly.

Violence against women, EW continues, is apparently one way the networks can compete with cable in "getting more flesh in."

How creative. How enterprising. But not really surprising.

What is  surprising, EW notes, is that the viewers for most of these police-procedural/forensic shows are women.

Gory crimes against women have been a staple of thrillers and horror movies at least since Janet Leigh got slashed in Psycho in 1960. What makes it different on TV is the audience. Whereas horror films are targeted at men, if CSI is any indication, these new crime shows will be watched primarily by women: Nearly two-thirds of CSI's viewers in the 18-to-49-year-old demo are female (the show ranks 15th among female teenagers — above Gilmore Girls and Everwood). Do producers really think this is what women want to watch?

Do you think so?

I'm a huge fan of the Law & Order franchise, not as much of CSI. Viewing habits, more than anything else. But I'm repelled by gratuitous, graphic violence against women or men.

And I can't believe that a significant female audience enjoys watching women as prey, as helpless victim, women being humiliated and victimized and subjected to sadistic acts.

In a Pig's Eye

I'm the first to admit that my antennae are on high alert whenever I see Orthodox Judaism depicted in books or in film or TV. But I'm not looking to disapprove. Quite the opposite.

Last Sunday night, while watching Grey's Anatomy, I suspected that the teenage patient lying on a hospital bed was Orthodox. Her ankle-length jean skirt kind of gave her away.

But a long skirt does not an Orthodox teenager make. Nothing else about the girl's outrageous behavior or misguided religious beliefs was authentic. Not her adamant refusal to accept a pig's heart valve. (Nothing in Orthodoxy prohibits such use.) Not her mouthy disdain toward her non-Orthodox parents, who seem justifiably bewildered and distraught by this daughter-turned-nasty stranger. Not the ingratitude and disrespect she displays toward the physicians who are trying to save her life.

Sure, tensions exist when a child takes a different religious path. But one of the basic tenets of Judaism is honoring one's parents. Civility, modesty, gratitude--those are others.

And a note to ABC about the rabbi who, at the girl's request, comes to offer a prayer before the surgery:

On the show, the rabbi is a woman. Orthodox rabbis are male. Always.

The episode's writer, Mimi Schmir, explained the choice to the Forward:

"Whenever there is a story that has a rabbi, I never see a woman. I just see old men. I wanted to clash with the stereotype a bit."

Maybe that's Ms. Schmir's experience. It's not mine. I'm bothered by stereotypes, too. But I'm also bothered by inaccuracies. Would a girl so adamant about doing everything "kosher" be comfortable with a female rabbi?

From Synagogue to Saloon: Bar Mitzvahs and Cowboys on Television

Nextbook alerted me today to two fascinating essays. The first, by Mark Oppenheimer-- "From Saccharine to Satire"--explores the history of bar mitzvahs as presented on television:

In The Chosen Image: Television's Portrayal of Jewish Themes and Characters (1999), Jonathan and Judith Pearl argue that, although Hollywood movies tend to depict the bar and bat mitzvah as trivial or materialistic (The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz, The Wedding Singer, the Ben Stiller role in Starsky & Hutch), television has taken a far more nuanced approach: "Often great pains are taken to explain the meaning of the ceremony, its importance to the family, and its significance in Jewish life." They're right, but that doesn't tell the whole story. For the first, say, 30 years of television, it was a far more cautious medium than the cinema. It either didn't treat the religious aspect of people's lives (there were no b'nai mitzvah on, say, The Goldbergs), or it treated religion with an earnestness that would make us squirm today. By the 1980s, it was acceptable to poke gentle fun at a rite like the bar mitzvah. And in the 1990s, when television shows like The Simpsons and South Park were fearlessly lampooning and satirizing everything, nothing was sacred, not even religious practices....

The second, by Stephen Vider, is titled "Riding Shotgun: Why Does Deadwood's Sheriff Wear a Six-Pointed Star?"

Born in Bavaria in 1840, Solomon Star was sent to live with his uncle in Cincinnati at age 10. But it wasn't long after his 21st birthday that he picked up and headed west. He wound up in the Dakota Territory, in a Black Hills gold mining camp called Deadwood, and rose from hardware store operator to mayor, serving from 1884 to 1893. "He was very concerned about the welfare of the community," says Jerry Bryant, research curator at the Adams Museum and House in Deadwood, South Dakota. "Most of us who research him call him Saint Sol...."

Both feature essays are well worth your time.

Going for Gold...Or Bronze...Or Silver

According to Nextbook, things are stacking up quite nicely for Elon Gold:

Getting cast as the bookstore-owning boss of Pamela Anderson on Stacked was "my little Purim miracle," says Elon Gold, for whom producers changed shooting schedules so as not to fall on Fridays. Raised in the Bronx, Gold was aware of his co-star's oeuvre, but did not carve out time for Baywatch. "I was busy learning Talmud," he tells the Jewish Week.

Read why Gold's wife isn't worried about her husband's beautiful co-star.

And read Gold's take on TV shows and their lack of Jewish content.

With the exception of Grace on Will & Grace, few TV shows offer portrayals of Jewish women who are comfortable with their Jewishness. And while Grace is funny and cool about her Judaism ("You. Me. Purim."), she isn't exactly a role model.

More like Jewish lite.

Hadasssah conducted research on the subject, which turned into the Morningstar Report. (No link available--sorry.) I've run into the "too Jewish" wall myself. Not with my books--though there have been a handful of exceptions. The most outspoken was a woman from Lake Forest, California, who reviewed me on Amazon (one star) and wonderered, "Why is it that Jews think the rest of us are so fascinated by the details of their lives?"

But with my protagonist, Molly Blume?

Screenwriters and producers who have read the books love Molly and her large mispacha and her stories. They find her at once unique and universal. But they haven't been able to persuade the networks that America is ready for a show about characters who are overtly Jewish.

Remember Molly Goldberg? It was "one of the most successful entertainment ventures ever, a radio and television program that reached across every medium."

You may not remember. I barely do--I was a kid when the show aired.

I figure the networks certainly don't....

Tickets to the Past

This year the first Passover Seder falls on Saturday night, April 23. Two weeks away, you're thinking, but in many homes Passover preparations have been under way for weeks. (I have friends who are much farther along than I am. I try not to resent them.) The entire house must be free of leavened grains (wheat, barley, rye, spelt, oat) and their products, which one is forbidden to consume or have in his possession during the eight-day holiday.

The key areas of concern are the dining room and kitchen, so I've started cleaning out my pantry, which will be dedicated to Passover foods. (My friend Penny in Boca Raton e-mailed that she's been nibbling on a bag of Hershey's kisses she discovered. No kisses for me, though I did find a mini-pack of Oreos, which I promptly ate.)

In my home, and in many others, the preparations turn into spring cleaning. Passover gives me the impetus to flip the mattresses and launder the bedskirts, to wash the windows and the chandelier (I have yet to find a Cheerio in either location), to venture boldly into overstuffed closets and purge them of items that have long ago passed their prime or utility.

Over the past few days I've reorganized spices, closets, and drawers. I freed a guest room cabinet for my husband, whose desk and study I appropriated years ago when I began writing. I tossed out manuals for Windows 95 and Leading Edge, warranty cards I never mailed for items no longer under warranty, canned vegetables with suspicious bulges, medications that expired months ago.

I've also been feeding my shredder a great many pages that I can't leave in the trash because I worry about identity theft. (In California's Riverside County, identity theft poses a greater danger than meth labs, according to District Attorney Grover Trask.)

Buried among the papers were memories: a hospital bill for the emergency surgery one of our daughters had when she was less than a year old, to remove a piece of Shrinky Dink she'd swallowed; another hospital bill for one of our sons, who had been kicked in the shin by a horse when he was in a high school in Milwaukee; a tuition statement from the private Jewish school our kids attended. We paid less fifteen years ago for three kids than our adult children pay now for one child.

I also found a contract, hand written by one of our children on behalf of herself and her siblings, titled "TV Tickets." No date, but I'm guessing it was written twelve or thirteen years ago:

   We, the children of ..., agree to abide by the following rules for TV Tickets from Sunday through Friday every week of the school year (except for exceptions listed below).

   Each child receives 20 tickets per week. Each ticket gives you half an hour of television. When you want to watch television, you must give a ticket to either parent for each 1/2 hour of television you watch.

   TV may not be watched past 11:00 P.M. Saturday nights are exempt from this contract.

   Each child must read for a total of three hours during the week. A reading session is a full 1/2 hour, not less. Acceptable reading material is Mommy's books (which you haven't read yet) or other regular books. Newspapers, Sweet Valley High, Baby Sitters' Club, or any ridiculously fictional material such as the above is not accepted.

   Family Night' TV (i.e., Oscars, Emmys, Grammys) is exempt from the TV Ticket deal.

   On vacation or fast days, additional television hours will be allowed with no ticket requirement, subject to parents' discretion.

   To gain extra tickets for the week:

   1/2 hour of reading = 1 additional ticket

   1 hour of reading = 2 additional tickets

   If one reads less than the required 3 hours, tickets for the next week will be subtracted from the 20 tickets.

   If one reads 2 hours instead of 3 hours, 6 tickets will be subtracted.

   If you're caught watching TV after you've already finished the 20 tickets, 6 tickets will be taken away.

   Cooking shows and news are included in the contract, unless Mommy gives permission to exempt them.

   All homework must be done before watching TV. No TV after bedtime.

   If you have leftover tickets from one week, you may not add those to next week's 20 tickets. Those tickets are put back in your envelope.

   We are on our honor.

This is why I love Passover cleaning.

Disclosure re Tickets to the Past

Pearl comments that she'd like to implement my daughter's TV Tickets contract and may use it for computer games, etc.

In the interests of full disclosure, I have to add that one of our sons was attending a post-high school yeshiva in Jerusalem during this period, and another child's signature doesn't appear on the contract.

I still have the TV Tickets, in envelopes the contract writer personalized for each sibling and decorated with a flourish.

For most things, MasterCard...