From The Jewish Chronicle
Candice Krieger
March 26, 2009
‘Circumcise Me’. That’s the name of the debut movie by Jerusalem-based news reporter and film director Matthew Kalman.
Mr Kalman, 48, teamed up with photographer David Blumenfeld to co-direct the hit comedy. Circumcise Me: The Comedy of Yisrael Campbell traces the life of Catholic boy-turned-Jewish comedian Yisrael Campbell, whose story turns out to be one of wild self-discovery.
Mr Campbell — formerly known as Chris Campbell — undergoes three conversions: from Catholicism to Reform Judaism, to Conservative Judaism and then to Orthodox Judaism.
The film, which has been generating a lot of interest at film festivals across Canada and the US, has now arrived in the UK.
Mr Kalman, who made aliyah ten years ago, tells People: “During the intifada, I spent a lot of time reporting on and filming people getting blown up. People were generally interested in blood and guts and it was all very depressing. David and I decided we wanted to do something more fun. I went to see Yisrael perform and knew we had our subject.”
They started working on the film in 2005. It took three years to complete. “It was a really long process,” says Mr Kalman, who reports for Channel 4 in the UK, among other media. “I am a news reporter but have always been interested in comedy. I thought making a film would be easy. I was wrong.”
Nonetheless, Mr Kalman is pleased with the outcome. “There is a Life of Brian-type feel to the film,” he says. “It is a really funny, feelgood creation. It’s about the intifada but it’s also about how life is lived in Israel. As journalists here, we often have to cover deaths — but we wanted to capture that absurdist humour.”
"Enthralling... hilarious... refreshing"
Baton Rouge Jewish Film Festival 2009
Festival returns for third year
2THEADVOCATE.COM
By PATRICK RILLS
Jan 23, 2009
“Circumcise Me”
The main feature of Wednesday night was “Circumcise Me,” a documentary chronicling the conversion of a Hassidic Jew stand-up comedian. Yisrael Campbell didn’t always have a four-corner beard, a Jerusalem address, and a Hebrew name. He was born Chris Campbell, a Philadelphia native and Catholic son of an ex-nun. Campbell is surprisingly hilarious for someone that looks like they should be teaching the Torah in a community center not telling jokes in a bar. It’s his transformation that is precisely the reason why “Circumcise Me” is so enthralling.
Campbell was once an outsider looking in, much like many in the audience who attended the screening Wednesday night. He approached the Jewish faith with the skepticism of someone who had never taken religion seriously, and that is the source of most of his comedy.
However, between the jokes is something more profound. Campbell’s fascination with the religion lies in his conversion pledge of “casting his lot in with the Jewish people,” and most of the movie is spent exploring this idea. Even as a convert, Yisrael is accepted into a tight-knit Jewish community after moving to Israel, and as Campbell suggests, it’s this binding sense of community that allows Jews to prevail in dire situations.
Campbell doesn’t waste words with his to-the-point approach and the film is short because of it, but it is also what makes the film work. The documentary style introduces us to the major players in Campbell’s life and gets the audience invested in his relatable story of a man looking for answers from something greater. He doesn’t need a somber recreation of a Holocaust story to show the great resilience and faith of the Jewish people, and that makes the film’s presentation that much more refreshing.
Festival returns for third year
2THEADVOCATE.COM
By PATRICK RILLS
Jan 23, 2009
“Circumcise Me”
The main feature of Wednesday night was “Circumcise Me,” a documentary chronicling the conversion of a Hassidic Jew stand-up comedian. Yisrael Campbell didn’t always have a four-corner beard, a Jerusalem address, and a Hebrew name. He was born Chris Campbell, a Philadelphia native and Catholic son of an ex-nun. Campbell is surprisingly hilarious for someone that looks like they should be teaching the Torah in a community center not telling jokes in a bar. It’s his transformation that is precisely the reason why “Circumcise Me” is so enthralling.
Campbell was once an outsider looking in, much like many in the audience who attended the screening Wednesday night. He approached the Jewish faith with the skepticism of someone who had never taken religion seriously, and that is the source of most of his comedy.
However, between the jokes is something more profound. Campbell’s fascination with the religion lies in his conversion pledge of “casting his lot in with the Jewish people,” and most of the movie is spent exploring this idea. Even as a convert, Yisrael is accepted into a tight-knit Jewish community after moving to Israel, and as Campbell suggests, it’s this binding sense of community that allows Jews to prevail in dire situations.
Campbell doesn’t waste words with his to-the-point approach and the film is short because of it, but it is also what makes the film work. The documentary style introduces us to the major players in Campbell’s life and gets the audience invested in his relatable story of a man looking for answers from something greater. He doesn’t need a somber recreation of a Holocaust story to show the great resilience and faith of the Jewish people, and that makes the film’s presentation that much more refreshing.
Yuks and yarmulkes from a Jewish comic
A portrait of a Jewish stand-up comedian, 'Circumcise Me' is one of dozens of movies playing the Austin Jewish Film Festival
By Chris GarciaAMERICAN-STATESMAN FILM WRITER
AUSTIN AMERICAN-STATESMAN
Friday, January 23, 2009
Though the title of "Circumcise Me" makes clever punnery of Morgan Spurlock's gruesome McDonald's gorge-fest "Super Size Me," the two documentaries share more than titular kinship.
Both are humorously insightful, plumbing in wry ways culture, values and politics. And both examine extremist practices: "Super Size Me" takes on the idea of devouring gobs of greasy, fatty junk food in the name of pseudo-health science. More squeamishly for some of us, "Circumcise Me" discusses one man's experience in getting circumcised, not once, not twice, but three times. (Wince.)
The man is Jewish stand-up comic Yisrael Campbell, who was raised Catholic and circumcised at birth. He converted to Judaism three times as an adult — to Reform, then Conservative, then Orthodox. Protesting that he'd already endured the procedure as an infant, a rabbi told him that it's the difference between a "medical procedure" and a "religious covenant."
All right, Campbell shrugs, standing on a bright stage in the documentary, gripping a microphone. "I'll do three circumcisions. But I want you to know that three circumcisions is not a religious covenant. It's a fetish."
Ba-da-boom.
Relating this story, Campbell is dressed in full Orthodox Jewish raiments. He perspires and gesticulates, punching the palm of his thick hand for emphasis. And a small audience erupts into knowing laughter, their open-mouth faces beaming with recognition.
The film's full title is "Circumcise Me: The Comedy of Yisrael Campbell" and was directed by David Blumenfeld and Matthew Kalman. It screens Thursday at the Arbor as part of the Austin Jewish Film Festival, which begins Saturday and runs through Jan. 30 at various venues.
At 48 minutes and a low budget, it's a small movie that exudes an enormous spirit of faith, understanding and fellowship, wrapped in wisdom and wisecracks. Campbell, who was born Chris Campbell in the suburbs of Philadelphia in 1963, strikes a jovial and clear-eyed figure. He strives for religious grace and yearns, like so many, for better days in a strife-riven Israel he has called home for years. (Though he concedes in the film that it's "near impossible that there will be an actual peace.")
As a teenager in America, Campbell became addicted to drugs and alcohol. Catholicism wasn't fulfilling his dire spiritual needs, so he began to explore. Long story short — Campbell's telling is far more entertaining than what we can fit here — he found Judaism.
He also found confusion, cultural shock, a wife, a divorce, another wife, twin baby daughters and the risks of living in a geographical powder keg. On stage, Campbell is bearish, like a middle-aged Seth Rogen. His delivery verges on shouting, words enunciated in a guttural baby tiger growl.
Off stage, the comic is philosophical and soft-spoken. He mitigates very real anxieties with calibrated irreverence that lets some of the air out of strict religious decorum. A comedian with a gimmick — Campbell appeared in Austin last week as part of the Israeli/Palestinian Comedy Tour — he dresses the part, with an unruly beard, traditional peyos, brimmed black hat and thick black overcoat.
"Is it warm in here, or am I the only one dressed for Poland in the 1700s?" he asks the audience.
It's Campbell's candid chatter, not the static video of his performance dominating the movie, that gives "Circumcise Me" a lingering thoughtfulness. He reveals as much about life, religion and comedy as he does about himself.
"I don't know what else to do (but) to turn my own discomfort, my own pain, into laughter. A joke is how I cope," Campbell says. "I used to think that it was a less than exemplary way to cope. I'm not sure that's the case any more. I think it's a valid way to deal with pain and loss."
'Circumcise Me' screens with 'Praise HA!,' Wendy Corn and Andrew Guidone's short documentary about the power of comedy as a universal balm, at 7 p.m. Thursday at the Arbor.
"Hysterically funny" - Baltimore Fun Guide
EVENT SPOTLIGHT
Jewish Film Festival - Circumcise Me
Location: Gordon Center For Performing Arts
Brought To You By: JCC of Greater Baltimore
Phone: 410.542.4900
Event Website: Click here
Cost: $9.00
Dates & Times:
Description
The 21st Annual William and Irene Weinberg Family Baltimore Jewish Film Festival Circumcise Me United States/Israel, 2007; Directors, David Blumenfeld and Matthew Kalman Tonight's film starts out, “My aunt was a nun. That makes Jesus my uncle.” It only took three conversions for this hysterically funny and celebrated stand-up comic to become a Jew. Yisrael Campbell wears Hassidic side-curls, the observant’s big black hat and frock coat, his every-day and stage wardrobe. As you watch one of his sold-out performances you learn his amazing life story. His incomparable humor will keep you laughing for days. Yisrael, born Christopher Campbell, is the son of an ex-nun and a school teacher who became a drug addict in Philadelphia. As Yisrael takes us along, we find out more about his spiritual journey from Philadelphia, to acting studies in New York, then to L.A., and on to Israel. His numerous and brave conversions, “I told the rabbi, I’ll do a third circumcision” coupled with his true avatars have the serious undertones of a complicated and impressive human being. His one-man show is planned for Broadway soon. This is a live-documentary you will never forget. Honored and Special Guest Speaker: Yisrael Campbell in person
Brought To You By: JCC of Greater Baltimore
Phone: 410.542.4900
Event Website: Click here
Cost: $9.00
Dates & Times:
05/07/2009 :: 07:30 PM
Description
The 21st Annual William and Irene Weinberg Family Baltimore Jewish Film Festival Circumcise Me United States/Israel, 2007; Directors, David Blumenfeld and Matthew Kalman Tonight's film starts out, “My aunt was a nun. That makes Jesus my uncle.” It only took three conversions for this hysterically funny and celebrated stand-up comic to become a Jew. Yisrael Campbell wears Hassidic side-curls, the observant’s big black hat and frock coat, his every-day and stage wardrobe. As you watch one of his sold-out performances you learn his amazing life story. His incomparable humor will keep you laughing for days. Yisrael, born Christopher Campbell, is the son of an ex-nun and a school teacher who became a drug addict in Philadelphia. As Yisrael takes us along, we find out more about his spiritual journey from Philadelphia, to acting studies in New York, then to L.A., and on to Israel. His numerous and brave conversions, “I told the rabbi, I’ll do a third circumcision” coupled with his true avatars have the serious undertones of a complicated and impressive human being. His one-man show is planned for Broadway soon. This is a live-documentary you will never forget. Honored and Special Guest Speaker: Yisrael Campbell in person
Behind the lens of Jewish cinema
AUSTRALIAN JEWISH NEWS
NOVEMBER 6, 2008
I am still marvelling about the short (45-minute) documentary Circumcise Me, about “Jew by choice” Christopher Campbell, who grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia, converted to Judaism in Los Angeles, moved to Jerusalem and became Yisrael Campbell -– and then became a stand-up comedian.
By his own telling, he converted to Judaism three times -– leading to all sorts of jokes about circumcisions (the best of its kind since Billy Crystal).
How can a secular American non-Jew become so thoroughly Jewish that even his humour comes from that perennial source of Jewish comedy: pain?
Campbell does it, neatly capturing the existential pain of being a Jew in modern Israel, with the threat of suicide bombings (two of his close friends were killed in the Hebrew University cafeteria blast).
Campbell does something truly extraordinary: he takes his non-Jewish background outsider status to his new Jewish persona and translates the feelings and communicates them in simple, direct and absolutely hilarious ways.
His success is due to his “crossover” appeal: although strictly Orthodox (and looking like a Chassidic rabbi), he communicates directly with all Jews, irrespective of their affiliation.
How many Jews can get away with the line, “Is it warm in here, or am I the only one dressed for Poland in the 1700s?” Campbell can.
NOVEMBER 6, 2008
I am still marvelling about the short (45-minute) documentary Circumcise Me, about “Jew by choice” Christopher Campbell, who grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia, converted to Judaism in Los Angeles, moved to Jerusalem and became Yisrael Campbell -– and then became a stand-up comedian.
By his own telling, he converted to Judaism three times -– leading to all sorts of jokes about circumcisions (the best of its kind since Billy Crystal).
How can a secular American non-Jew become so thoroughly Jewish that even his humour comes from that perennial source of Jewish comedy: pain?
Campbell does it, neatly capturing the existential pain of being a Jew in modern Israel, with the threat of suicide bombings (two of his close friends were killed in the Hebrew University cafeteria blast).
Campbell does something truly extraordinary: he takes his non-Jewish background outsider status to his new Jewish persona and translates the feelings and communicates them in simple, direct and absolutely hilarious ways.
His success is due to his “crossover” appeal: although strictly Orthodox (and looking like a Chassidic rabbi), he communicates directly with all Jews, irrespective of their affiliation.
How many Jews can get away with the line, “Is it warm in here, or am I the only one dressed for Poland in the 1700s?” Campbell can.
A Funny Thing Happened: Comedy at Jewish Film Festival
Circumcise Me is one of the funniest films shown in Milwaukee cinemas this year
By David Luhrssen
SHEPHERD EXPRESS, MILWAUKEE
(expressmilwaukee.com)
23 October 2008
"You're a little nervous about the gasmask, right?" asks Yisrael Campbell. With the mask draped over the shoulder of his black suit coat, the fiercely bearded comic in the Hasidic hat pauses for a sly moment to let the crowd at a Jerusalem comedy club respond with laughter. "You think you missed the nine o'clock news?"
Transforming anxiety into laughter has been the special gift of Jewish culture to America and the world, especially through the influence of Hollywood comedy from the Marx brothers through the Coen brothers. What's remarkable abut Campbell is that he grew up Irish Catholic in Philadelphia and converted to Judaism-not once but three times, moving steadily toward the roots from Reform through Conservative congregations before finally turning Orthodox and fulfilling the logic of his spiritual journey by moving to Israel.
The documentary on Campbell as a comic and seeker, Circumcise Me, is one of the funniest films shown in Milwaukee cinemas this year. It's a standout attraction at the 11th Annual Milwaukee Jewish Film Festival, held Oct. 26-Oct. 30 at the Marcus North Shore Cinema. Circumcise MeDans La Vie (Two Ladies) will be screened 7:30 p.m. on Tuesday, Oct. 28. and
Directors Matthew Kalman and David Blumenfeld show some fast moving snapshots of Campbell's adopted city, Jerusalem, a place where the ancient and the modern, the spiritual and the profane, coexist in uneasy and discordant harmony. Jerusalem is the spiritual home of the three major monotheisms as well as the physical home of Jews and Arabs. Some of that tension plays out in Campbell's comedy sketches, which form the bulk of the movie.
Campbell is not a one-joke comedian, however. Some of his humor is universal. Campbell's affable mockery of GAP clothing for infants-the label declares the line suitable for children weighing 0-5 pounds-points to corporate absurdity the world over. Why the 0? What, some marketing director thinks parents of children weighing absolutely nothing are a target market?
In many of the sketches captured in Circumcise Me, Campbell makes himself the bull's-eye of his own congenial if sharply articulated humor. In his youth he was a common type who took the less common path. Disenchanted with Roman Catholicism from a young age, he decided he was spiritual, not religious, because he didn't like being told what to do or think. He had some drug problems, became infatuated with a Jewish girl and thought he might as well take Reform Judaism for a spin, fully expecting to like it as little as any other organized religion.
As it turned out, he liked it so much that he couldn't be satisfied with the Reform movement, which discards those parts of Jewish tradition that fit least comfortably into contemporary society. Campbell kept digging for the roots and asking himself what kind of Jew he wanted to be. "Is it warm in here or am I the only one dressed for Poland in the 1700s?" he asks, breaking the ice with laughter for a casual young crowd at a Jerusalem club.
By the time he moved to Israel, the Palestinian Intifada was getting under way. Rioting rocked Jerusalem. Bombs exploded in the night. Campbell even incorporates a joke about an infamous Hamas "master bomb maker" into his act-a man with only one leg and one arm. Given the loss of those limbs, "I'd say he was only a mildly proficient bomb maker," Campbell quips.
But the comedian isn't laughing about the ugly "Separation Fence" erected to segregate Arabs from Jews. Violence has subsided since the wall went up, yet Campbell insists from experience that Arabs and Jews are brothers, great friends one on one but have become enemies in mass. Given the shrill political rhetoric from both sides, he is pessimistic about the prospects for peace.
Chris's Bris
JERUSALEM REPORT : Sep 24, 2008 10:50
By LEORA EREN FRUCHT
Extract from an article in Issue 13, October 13, 2008 of The Jerusalem Report.
Yisrael Campbell often looks like he's wandered into the wrong place. On this sweltering August day, the full-bearded 45-year-old with long, dangling sidelocks, a black fedora and a thick black jacket, is seated in a café in the German Colony, a chic, largely secular neighborhood in Jerusalem.
Campbell, acutely aware of how he stands out in his ultra-Orthodox garb, and always ready to mock himself, volunteers to fetch a pitcher of water in this self-service café. "I'm the only one dressed anything like a waiter," he quips, straightening his black jacket and getting up to bring the water.
Appearances can be misleading.
Campbell feels very much at home in this café, in this part of town (he lives in the adjacent neighborhood of Baka) and in this country - which is a little bit surprising for a Catholic-born American from Philadelphia who used to be called Chris.
His metamorphosis into an Orthodox Jew who makes a living as a standup comic in Jerusalem is the focus of his one-man show and, more recently, of "Circumcise Me," a documentary on his life, which has been screened at film festivals in the United States, Canada, Australia and Israel and on the Jewish Channel (a national Jewish cable network in the United States). The 48-minute film charts an extraordinary spiritual, creative and occasionally absurd journey that includes three circumcisions along the way.
Fortunately, Campbell notes early on in his show and in the film, he underwent a medical circumcision right after birth, so the subsequent circumcisions - one for each of his three conversions to Reform, Conservative and Orthodox Judaism, as he became increasingly observant - involved only a symbolic drawing of blood. Nevertheless, by the third time, he says, he began to grow weary of the ceremony. "Three circumcisions is not a religious covenant - it's a fetish," he laments in his show.
Campbell's mother was slated to become a nun before she met her husband-to-be and dropped out of the convent. But Campbell was no Sunday school prodigy. He describes his high school years as a blur of drugs and alcohol. "How Catholic was I? Catholic enough to know I was going to hell," he observes in his show. By 16, he had sobered up and embarked on the spiritual search that ultimately led him to Judaism.
Campbell, a large-built, soft-spoken man with a laid-back manner, is affable and funny, punctuating his story with one-liners. But much of the time, he is earnest and probing, not so much looking for a laugh, it seems, as for an answer. He talks about his views of the different branches of Judaism, his reluctance to live by a hodge podge of religious beliefs - a little Christianity, a little Buddhism - as some of his childhood friends do; and his appreciation of Jewish religious law and its impact on his life. His spiritual search, he notes, has always been closely linked to his artistic one.
The man, who describes himself as "a little bit of a class clown," moved to New York to study acting a few years after completing high school in Philadelphia. This fall, he notes, his show will run off-Broadway just a couple of blocks away from where he studied 20 years ago - at New York's Circle in the Square Drama School. "I really will have come full circle," he smiles, "but in the process, I will have changed my name, my religion, my nationality and my marital status.
"In those days," he continues, twirling a sidelock, "I used to dress in the standard actor 'uniform' - black turtleneck and black jeans. So I guess the only thing that hasn't changed is that I'm still in black," he says, casting an amused glance at his attire.
In the late 80s, he moved to Los Angeles, hoping to improve his prospects for an acting career. It was there that he saw an ad in a newspaper for a basic course in Judaism, given at a local Reform synagogue. Campbell says he thought he would become disillusioned with the religion, just as he had with Catholicism. But by the end of the course, he was more enthusiastic than ever and decided to convert.
What drew him to Judaism? Campbell admits he was deeply inspired by "Exodus" - not the Biblical book, he hastens to explain, but the Leon Uris novel.
But he also found Judaism to be a refreshing contrast to what he perceived as the dogmatic approach of Catholicism. "The idea that everything is up for discussion is an integral part of Judaism and that really attracted me," he says, recalling how his first rabbi raised doubts about some of the basic tenets of the Passover story. "He would ask: How is it that when the Jews left Egypt they had time to take all the gold and silver of the Egyptians, but," he continues, his voice rising in a tone of ridicule, "they didn't have time to wait for the bread to rise?"
Campbell shakes his head, still bemused by the rabbi's question, and reveals perhaps another source of his attraction to Judaism: "Rabbis are definitely much funnier than priests."
While studying at the Reform center in L.A., Campbell was also auditioning for commercials. Coincidentally, Campbell got his first audition the day after he completed his conversion. "Before that, I guess I didn't have the right connections," he quips, referring to the preponderance of Jews in the city's media industry. "When I told one of my relatives, he said: 'Wow! News travels fast.'"
During that same period, Campbell married the daughter of an Egyptian-born Muslim doctor. "The father said he wouldn't come to the wedding unless I converted to Islam," says Campbell, who declined. "I told him that if I belong to all three major religions in one calendar year, people are going to doubt my sincerity."
Campbell became hungry for greater ritual observance. When he asked how to put on phylacteries, his Reform rabbi directed him to another rabbi 75 miles away. "I figured there had to be someone closer who could help me," he recalls, explaining how he gravitated first to Conservative and eventually to Orthodox Judaism, where he says he feels most comfortable.
In the summer of 2000 he decided to come to Israel for a few months to study Hebrew. By then, he was turning down offers for commercials if they were being shot on Shabbat or Jewish holidays - something he admits was a bad career move: "A struggling actor in L.A. turns down work only on one condition: He's dead."
He loved Israel, he says, and decided to extend his stay for a year.
Campbell - who was by then divorced - fell in love with his substitute Talmud teacher at Jerusalem's Pardes Institute, Avital Hochstein. The couple married in 2002 and now live in Baka with their three young children.
Campbell's one-man show, "It's Not in Heaven," evolved from a talk he gave at Pardes about his unusual life. A number of members of the audience suggested he turn it into a book or stage production. He credits fellow American-born comedian David Kilimnick, founder of the Jerusalem-based Off the Wall Comedy Empire (a company of English-speaking comedians), for encouraging him to launch the show, in 2004. He has since performed all over Israel as well as in the United States and the United Kingdom. Campbell is also a member of the Israeli-Palestinian Comedy Tour, a quartet of Palestinian and Jewish stand-up comics who say they try to bring peace, or at least a few laughs, to the Middle East. In the fall, Campbell will launch a new one-man show, "You Can Never Be Too Jewish" on off-Broadway.
There seems to be something inherently paradoxical about being Orthodox, which implies reverence, and being a comedian, which calls for irreverence. Yet, Campbell manages to be both. In his private life, he allows himself little leeway in his religious observance. (When he flew to the U.S. on Tisha B'av, he fasted for 32 hours instead of the mandatory 25 because he was flying across several time zones.) "Halakhic structure is for me a way of being in a relationship with God," he explains.
A Therapeutic Film
The film "Circumcise Me" was a sort of therapy
for filmmakers Matthew Kalman and David Blumenfeld, both veteran news reporters who live in Jerusalem.
British-born Kalman, a reporter, and Canadian-born Blumenfeld, a photographer, have worked for leading media outlets, including Time, Newsweek and the Boston Globe.
"At the height of the intifada, David and I were doing a lot of work together, reporting mainly about guns, bombs, exploded buses and people dying," recalls Kalman. "We were also asked to produce other people's documentaries - and those were also about suicide bombings.
"After you've seen enough dead bodies lying on the pavement after a suicide bombing of a bus, you realize you're becoming inured to the shock. When you see people still fused to their seats inside this blackened shell, and all you're looking at is the camera angle, you realize that you're losing a bit of what makes you human.
"It got a bit grueling and depressing. So David suggested we do something of our own, something fun. Doing this film has enabled us as reporters to retrieve a little bit of our own humanity. Basically this has been just one big act of therapy."
On an evening in 2004, he recalls, "I went to the opening night of Off the Wall Comedy Club [an English-language comedy club in Jerusalem], and there was this haredi [ultra-Orthodox] guy standing in the corner. I felt like saying to him: 'You're in the wrong place - this is a comedy club. Can I direct you to Me'a She'arim [an ultra Orthodox neighborhood]?' And it turns out that he was the headliner."
Kalman, who founded a comedy club at his alma mater, Cambridge, was delighted. "I thought he was funny, talented, charismatic and found his story so compelling. It seemed like the obvious choice for a documentary. That night I called David and told him: 'We've got our subject.'"
Campbell readily agreed. "He had nothing better to do," quips Kalman as Campbell, seated nearby, nods in agreement.
The film is an abbreviated version of Campbell's standup comedy show which is itself a tapestry of his colorful life and observations about subjects close to his heart. The filmmakers shot six of his shows and conducted interviews with the comedian in different locations in Jerusalem. There is also footage of Campbell's father, a lapsed Catholic who remains perplexed but not bitter about his son's conversion. The movie is being screened at over a dozen film festivals in cities across the United States over the next few months (http://circumcise-me.blogspot.com).
"In a lot of documentaries, the filmmakers research the story, but in this case the story was right there," Kalman notes. He also says that he had grown tired of interviewing "cynical politicians" and terrorists, while ignoring what he regards as the real heroes of the story - ordinary people coping in an extraordinary situation. He wanted to show that side of Israeli reality, too.
"The fact is that even at the height of the intifada, people continued to laugh. There was still a life going on in Jerusalem against the background of this craziness. And as news reporters we never got to report that."
One segment of the film - and show - deals with Campbell's own intifada experiences, including the loss of two close friends killed in a terror attack at the Hebrew University cafeteria in July, 2002. He handles the subject with sensitivity, but doesn't refrain from telling jokes about terrorists.
"In this film, we wanted to tackle the intifada, but from a different angle," says Kalman. "We think it's the first intifada comedy."
Extract from an article in Issue 13, October 13, 2008 of The Jerusalem Report.
By LEORA EREN FRUCHT
Extract from an article in Issue 13, October 13, 2008 of The Jerusalem Report.
Yisrael Campbell often looks like he's wandered into the wrong place. On this sweltering August day, the full-bearded 45-year-old with long, dangling sidelocks, a black fedora and a thick black jacket, is seated in a café in the German Colony, a chic, largely secular neighborhood in Jerusalem.
Campbell, acutely aware of how he stands out in his ultra-Orthodox garb, and always ready to mock himself, volunteers to fetch a pitcher of water in this self-service café. "I'm the only one dressed anything like a waiter," he quips, straightening his black jacket and getting up to bring the water.
Appearances can be misleading.
Campbell feels very much at home in this café, in this part of town (he lives in the adjacent neighborhood of Baka) and in this country - which is a little bit surprising for a Catholic-born American from Philadelphia who used to be called Chris.
His metamorphosis into an Orthodox Jew who makes a living as a standup comic in Jerusalem is the focus of his one-man show and, more recently, of "Circumcise Me," a documentary on his life, which has been screened at film festivals in the United States, Canada, Australia and Israel and on the Jewish Channel (a national Jewish cable network in the United States). The 48-minute film charts an extraordinary spiritual, creative and occasionally absurd journey that includes three circumcisions along the way.
Fortunately, Campbell notes early on in his show and in the film, he underwent a medical circumcision right after birth, so the subsequent circumcisions - one for each of his three conversions to Reform, Conservative and Orthodox Judaism, as he became increasingly observant - involved only a symbolic drawing of blood. Nevertheless, by the third time, he says, he began to grow weary of the ceremony. "Three circumcisions is not a religious covenant - it's a fetish," he laments in his show.
Campbell's mother was slated to become a nun before she met her husband-to-be and dropped out of the convent. But Campbell was no Sunday school prodigy. He describes his high school years as a blur of drugs and alcohol. "How Catholic was I? Catholic enough to know I was going to hell," he observes in his show. By 16, he had sobered up and embarked on the spiritual search that ultimately led him to Judaism.
Campbell, a large-built, soft-spoken man with a laid-back manner, is affable and funny, punctuating his story with one-liners. But much of the time, he is earnest and probing, not so much looking for a laugh, it seems, as for an answer. He talks about his views of the different branches of Judaism, his reluctance to live by a hodge podge of religious beliefs - a little Christianity, a little Buddhism - as some of his childhood friends do; and his appreciation of Jewish religious law and its impact on his life. His spiritual search, he notes, has always been closely linked to his artistic one.
The man, who describes himself as "a little bit of a class clown," moved to New York to study acting a few years after completing high school in Philadelphia. This fall, he notes, his show will run off-Broadway just a couple of blocks away from where he studied 20 years ago - at New York's Circle in the Square Drama School. "I really will have come full circle," he smiles, "but in the process, I will have changed my name, my religion, my nationality and my marital status.
"In those days," he continues, twirling a sidelock, "I used to dress in the standard actor 'uniform' - black turtleneck and black jeans. So I guess the only thing that hasn't changed is that I'm still in black," he says, casting an amused glance at his attire.
In the late 80s, he moved to Los Angeles, hoping to improve his prospects for an acting career. It was there that he saw an ad in a newspaper for a basic course in Judaism, given at a local Reform synagogue. Campbell says he thought he would become disillusioned with the religion, just as he had with Catholicism. But by the end of the course, he was more enthusiastic than ever and decided to convert.
What drew him to Judaism? Campbell admits he was deeply inspired by "Exodus" - not the Biblical book, he hastens to explain, but the Leon Uris novel.
But he also found Judaism to be a refreshing contrast to what he perceived as the dogmatic approach of Catholicism. "The idea that everything is up for discussion is an integral part of Judaism and that really attracted me," he says, recalling how his first rabbi raised doubts about some of the basic tenets of the Passover story. "He would ask: How is it that when the Jews left Egypt they had time to take all the gold and silver of the Egyptians, but," he continues, his voice rising in a tone of ridicule, "they didn't have time to wait for the bread to rise?"
Campbell shakes his head, still bemused by the rabbi's question, and reveals perhaps another source of his attraction to Judaism: "Rabbis are definitely much funnier than priests."
While studying at the Reform center in L.A., Campbell was also auditioning for commercials. Coincidentally, Campbell got his first audition the day after he completed his conversion. "Before that, I guess I didn't have the right connections," he quips, referring to the preponderance of Jews in the city's media industry. "When I told one of my relatives, he said: 'Wow! News travels fast.'"
During that same period, Campbell married the daughter of an Egyptian-born Muslim doctor. "The father said he wouldn't come to the wedding unless I converted to Islam," says Campbell, who declined. "I told him that if I belong to all three major religions in one calendar year, people are going to doubt my sincerity."
Campbell became hungry for greater ritual observance. When he asked how to put on phylacteries, his Reform rabbi directed him to another rabbi 75 miles away. "I figured there had to be someone closer who could help me," he recalls, explaining how he gravitated first to Conservative and eventually to Orthodox Judaism, where he says he feels most comfortable.
In the summer of 2000 he decided to come to Israel for a few months to study Hebrew. By then, he was turning down offers for commercials if they were being shot on Shabbat or Jewish holidays - something he admits was a bad career move: "A struggling actor in L.A. turns down work only on one condition: He's dead."
He loved Israel, he says, and decided to extend his stay for a year.
Campbell - who was by then divorced - fell in love with his substitute Talmud teacher at Jerusalem's Pardes Institute, Avital Hochstein. The couple married in 2002 and now live in Baka with their three young children.
Campbell's one-man show, "It's Not in Heaven," evolved from a talk he gave at Pardes about his unusual life. A number of members of the audience suggested he turn it into a book or stage production. He credits fellow American-born comedian David Kilimnick, founder of the Jerusalem-based Off the Wall Comedy Empire (a company of English-speaking comedians), for encouraging him to launch the show, in 2004. He has since performed all over Israel as well as in the United States and the United Kingdom. Campbell is also a member of the Israeli-Palestinian Comedy Tour, a quartet of Palestinian and Jewish stand-up comics who say they try to bring peace, or at least a few laughs, to the Middle East. In the fall, Campbell will launch a new one-man show, "You Can Never Be Too Jewish" on off-Broadway.
There seems to be something inherently paradoxical about being Orthodox, which implies reverence, and being a comedian, which calls for irreverence. Yet, Campbell manages to be both. In his private life, he allows himself little leeway in his religious observance. (When he flew to the U.S. on Tisha B'av, he fasted for 32 hours instead of the mandatory 25 because he was flying across several time zones.) "Halakhic structure is for me a way of being in a relationship with God," he explains.
A Therapeutic Film
The film "Circumcise Me" was a sort of therapy
for filmmakers Matthew Kalman and David Blumenfeld, both veteran news reporters who live in Jerusalem.
British-born Kalman, a reporter, and Canadian-born Blumenfeld, a photographer, have worked for leading media outlets, including Time, Newsweek and the Boston Globe.
"At the height of the intifada, David and I were doing a lot of work together, reporting mainly about guns, bombs, exploded buses and people dying," recalls Kalman. "We were also asked to produce other people's documentaries - and those were also about suicide bombings.
"After you've seen enough dead bodies lying on the pavement after a suicide bombing of a bus, you realize you're becoming inured to the shock. When you see people still fused to their seats inside this blackened shell, and all you're looking at is the camera angle, you realize that you're losing a bit of what makes you human.
"It got a bit grueling and depressing. So David suggested we do something of our own, something fun. Doing this film has enabled us as reporters to retrieve a little bit of our own humanity. Basically this has been just one big act of therapy."
On an evening in 2004, he recalls, "I went to the opening night of Off the Wall Comedy Club [an English-language comedy club in Jerusalem], and there was this haredi [ultra-Orthodox] guy standing in the corner. I felt like saying to him: 'You're in the wrong place - this is a comedy club. Can I direct you to Me'a She'arim [an ultra Orthodox neighborhood]?' And it turns out that he was the headliner."
Kalman, who founded a comedy club at his alma mater, Cambridge, was delighted. "I thought he was funny, talented, charismatic and found his story so compelling. It seemed like the obvious choice for a documentary. That night I called David and told him: 'We've got our subject.'"
Campbell readily agreed. "He had nothing better to do," quips Kalman as Campbell, seated nearby, nods in agreement.
The film is an abbreviated version of Campbell's standup comedy show which is itself a tapestry of his colorful life and observations about subjects close to his heart. The filmmakers shot six of his shows and conducted interviews with the comedian in different locations in Jerusalem. There is also footage of Campbell's father, a lapsed Catholic who remains perplexed but not bitter about his son's conversion. The movie is being screened at over a dozen film festivals in cities across the United States over the next few months (http://circumcise-me.blogspot.com).
"In a lot of documentaries, the filmmakers research the story, but in this case the story was right there," Kalman notes. He also says that he had grown tired of interviewing "cynical politicians" and terrorists, while ignoring what he regards as the real heroes of the story - ordinary people coping in an extraordinary situation. He wanted to show that side of Israeli reality, too.
"The fact is that even at the height of the intifada, people continued to laugh. There was still a life going on in Jerusalem against the background of this craziness. And as news reporters we never got to report that."
One segment of the film - and show - deals with Campbell's own intifada experiences, including the loss of two close friends killed in a terror attack at the Hebrew University cafeteria in July, 2002. He handles the subject with sensitivity, but doesn't refrain from telling jokes about terrorists.
"In this film, we wanted to tackle the intifada, but from a different angle," says Kalman. "We think it's the first intifada comedy."
Extract from an article in Issue 13, October 13, 2008 of The Jerusalem Report.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)