Between the Temples
Between the Temples
Between the Temples: Nathan Silver begins his “Between the Temples” with a loud, keening blast of a shofar. If you have not heard the sound before, simply picture a rather low seclusion, with the head slumped forward over the vanity deck, face down on the wheel, and you will be in the ballpark. It is a very good way to begin this year’s most stress provoking comedy that focuses on the troubled life of a cantor who lost his wife, his voice and his desire to live in the faith crisis.
Between the Temples is so quirky and charming, often painfully humorous, with Jason Schwartzman playing Ben Gottlieb. This widower has not really fit in the quiet town in upstate-new York after losing his wife, a novelist, in a freak accident a few months ago which explains why he has moved back in with overbearing mothers Caroline Aaron and Dolly De Leon who are trying albeit unsuccessfully to get him back in the dating game. ”In Judaism, we do not have heaven or hell” Ben jokes while trying to smile” We only have upstate new york” .
Eventually, when crowned king and invited to participate in his first Shabbat back at the pulpit, saying that no word comes forth from his mouth, Ben runs out of the synagogue covered in a tallit and proceeds to wander back home through the dark, continuing to play his wife’s phone messages over and over again the dirty ones and when he gets fed up all of the sudden he lies down on the street. An eighteen wheeler takes the corner but pulls up just short of him. ‘You should keep going,’ he orders.
“Just hold on, keep it coming, please!” Humiliating and profound, this punchline isn’t quite introductory—it isn’t however, easy to recollect any other comedy that starts as dramatically as this one does- nevertheless, it serves to evoke the motion and motion that ‘they‘ Silver and co-writer C. Mason Wells base the comedy of the film on, the feeling of going in and out of pain and pleasure which is very fast and dizzying.
Of course, harden has no option to fulfill Ben’s wish, but he does let him off at a strip club where he drinks mudslides, gets knocked out and even at this lowest point runs into his junior school music teacher, Carla Kessler (Carol Kane) a widow who is also searching for a next chapter in life.
However, it is rather evident that his mothers have been very cordial on finding Ben a good Jewish bride, may be even Gabby (Madeleine Weinstein), a rabbi’s daughter (Robert Smigel) for orthodox pupils of Ben, this one has ended up spending most of the time with Carla.
In an effort to reclaim her Jewish heritage, Carla has come to the conclusion that she wants to have the bat mitzvah her Russian Communicist parents never allowed her to have, the bat mitzvah that she neglected because of marriage to her now late Christian spouse and she wants Ben to give it to her.
Carla is well outside of the demographic Ben is used to, which is why he did not expect her to sign up for classes and yet here Carla is, while he only has to bend her arm before Ben does it anyway.
It is quite simple because they are wounded souls in other aspects which are archetypal. They are both widows, yet there is more than the issue of loss that charms Ben and Carla to one another. Ben eases shades, the image of Mrs. O’Connor still literary He has a lucid memory of Mrs. O’Connor’s warm and quintessential and inspiring pedagogical style, even psychotherapists cut.
She is an actress, a singer’s wife, he is amazed that she recalls him, not at all, and best will be of a tongue quite a great deal and tease him and that I at least love about her and Ben loves that women do not require most pleasant for him and more importantly still possesses a great deal of imaginative trim where she only observes certain aspects of orthodoxy where they are pleasing. It happens this way, forgone are all the dismal expectations of ‘why bother’ feeling that close and intimate.
In Between the Temples she is also impressed that he is attentive about her reverences or more so that he cares to listen when she talks to him. They have weathered the storms of life and very well are aware that there is in each one of them humour a bent to laugh in the misery even if so far that has meant only the two of them doing it, and doing it poorly.
It is possible that this is the reason why people cannot believe in the lack of disappointment because of the unexpected ease of friendship. These two ill fitting people are brought together and redeem each other through Hebrew classes, public terraces filled with sacralized fast food, and psychotropic fungi.
This is Silver’s ninth feature and this time as all the rest, he loves to show the crazy, twisted interference of kooky people nearby; what sets it has much to do with those strange, unpredictable shots that filled the space around the characters rather than what they were actually saying. After scientific measures, “Between the Temples” would perhaps be classified under behavioral comedy.
Between the Temples it doesn’t say anything particularly damning about organized religion, it is intrigued in how people have this urge to put their relations to the religion and to each other, as well as with themselves into structures and re-structures them over and over against shifting currents of needs and wants, and situations.
For this reason, the audience finds in Between the Temples Schwartzman and Kane a natural screen couple who sort out their alternate jagged cum tender chemistry by quieting Ben and Carla into a cozy shared psychosis – neither’s discovery nor delusion or in between that one would quite use or bother to.
In ‘Asteroid City’ a perfectly wretched widower grieving a wife’s recent death, Schwartzman played Ben as someone else – a slacker-chubby, messy depressive who assumed the role of Ben only after abandonment by a large chunk of his personality.
And then Kane happens, with her loony comic notes and that beautiful plot voice that punches the frame while her bubbling enthusiasm puts his clouded skies to the fastest defeat. As a result, she was as Cohen’s painter as Kane is the heart of the whole virginally chaotic, energetic and amusing movie Between the Temples.
Both of them are raised up by a note-perfect ensemble, including a very welcome Smigel (the voice of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog in an altogether different comic genre) who plays a rabbi not for his faith but money, focused on putting golf balls in shofars, India in the rising relative to his divorced daughter Gabby. While acceding the film a little over an hour in, she does very well in the second half of the film Between the Temples incorporating two of the more remarkable pieces within it.
Gabbie makes it not very nice to embrace the usual lesbian Hollywood gamut of emotions – the ‘returning home after a broken engagement, who is a little too afraid of intimacy’ archetype. In contrast to that warmth though, we witness a Shabbat dinner gone completely awry, where an emotionally fraught situation where ‘confess, I’m angry, Here Let me reveal something, cruel as this is, humiliations will come to light’ apparently destined to resolve, instead delightfully unravels in such terribly disarray that it becomes easy to sympathize why Ben’s basement door keeps moaning in the grief of a thousand souls condensed within and their only wish was to not feel any kind of pain, not anymore, not in the afterlife as well.
Sean Price Williams, who has shot in sumptuous and supplimentary 16mm on a recent “Indian Temple”, has become such an accomplished New York independent cinematographer whose use of an expressionistic lens captures motion and chaos so well that ‘December Heat’ will probably turn into an overstuffed bore.
He takes over and because his outboard aims for faces and even more for facial emotions the camera translates such things as lockets and holds them up to the melodrama that has always animated cinema.
Different cuts present different perspectives, with the camera sweeping across and within each actor’s space, covering every corner and everytime the mouth moves to release bombs of blistering exchanges which by definition evade the defense mechanisms of cut offs from the original flatness of the emotion.
John Magary’s erratic editing, which focuses on breaks with simple and direct cuts, offers a wonderfully dynamic rhythm of the film which possibly does even more effective work of directing attention of the viewers.
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