Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Saturday night, I saw Bee Season at my local, The Tricycle, as part of the Jewish Film Festival.

Let's just say the film has ripped the heart and soul out of Myla Goldberg's wonderful, beautiful book. Even the filmmakers know we'll never buy Juliette Binoche as a Jewish mother, so she's recast as a Catholic convert.

The people watching was the best, though. Waiting in the bar while the start ran late, was like a hundred and svansig pushy Jewish people all trying to protect themselves because we all know they're out to get you. Two people I didn't know elbowed me in the ribs to get past to... nowhere. There was a lot of that bullet-proof hair and over-jewelled jeans, and more designer handbags than you could shake a lady-who-lunches at.

But this, is priceless. We took our seats, and I was sitting between R and B, and as the credits open, a grandma-y voice from two rows behind leans forward, prods me in the shoulders like I have bad posture (and we all know I do pilates) and says, "gurrl. Take your hair down, it's in ze way."

I collapsed in hysterics. Not because it was funny, but because I was properly hysterical that the cinema was peopled with boundary-less Jews keen to tell people they don't know how to get it right.

But then, I couldn't take the pressure. I knew she would tut and hiss every time I moved. At this stage, I didn't know it wouldn't mar the movie.

So I took out my scrunchie, and my hair's quite long now, and falls around my shoulders in a curly-hair kinda way. R and B were still spluttering at the Friday-night-kiddush-at-your-grandparents style of it all.

Then, two women sitting behind me (and in front of the grandma) say "she thinks it looks better down."

You really couldn't make this stuff up.

Jews. Dontcha love'em?

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