50 years after its debut, ‘Hester Street’ reminds us what it means to be a Jew in America
Joan Micklin Silver’s classic indie is a bittersweet fable of immigrant assimilation
Carol Kane won an Oscar nomination for her role in ‘Hester Street.’ Courtesy of Film Society of Lincoln Center
Joan Micklin Silver’s classic black-and-white, shoestring budget indie, Hester Street, remains a wonderful exploration of the Jewish immigrant experience at the turn of the 20th century. And while it touches on such familiar, arguably universal, themes as ethnic identity, assimilation, and what it means to be an American, it reflects the specificity of its time, place and characters as viewed through Silver’s personal lens in 1975.
Based on the 1896 novella Yekl: A Tale of the New York Ghetto, by Forward founder and editor Abraham Cahan, the film recounts the respective experiences of its two protagonists: Yankel (Steven Keats) who has lived in the United States for several years, settling in the tenement-ridden, congested Lower East Side; and his wife Gitl (Carol Kane), who has just arrived from Russia with their young son Yossele.
Yankel who now wants to be called “Jake,” has learned English, shaved his beard and is actively pursuing an independent, beautifully-groomed, fully Americanized dancer, Mamie Fein (Dorrie Kavanaugh). By contrast, Gitl is shy, mousy, speaks only Yiddish and, worst of all, sports a long, dowdy dress and sheitel.
Determined to appeal to her estranged husband, Gitl swaps out her wig for a hair-covering scarf. But, as a religious married Jewish woman, she will under no circumstances expose her tresses. She is further horrified when Yankel cuts off Yossele’s traditional payos. Make no mistake, Jake loves his son, whom he dubs “Joey,” but his growing distaste for his wife is palpable.
Gitl is the more empathetic character and much has been written about how Silver’s film was a breakthrough in its presentation of a Jewish woman as an attractive and authentic figure. Still, it’s to Silver’s credit that it’s not all that hard to see Jake’s or Mamie’s perspectives either. Although the latter is the prototype of the modern American woman, able to support herself and save money, she also feels betrayed by Jake who had never told her he was married.
Despite the soapy plot line, it’s all handled with a light, comic touch. In fact, it’s deceptively simple in tone and presentation. Much of the movie, especially those scenes that most evoke “America,” at least in Jake’s imagination — such as dancing with Mamie in a social club or teaching his son baseball — bring to mind silent flicks of the era.
The ragtime musical soundtrack further enhances the image of an innocent and unblemished American landscape, which speaks directly to Jake’s rosy vision of life on these shores. He is the ultimate optimist, a vision made all the more poignant by the harsh reality in which all the characters find themselves.
Everyone is struggling. Jake works long hours in a sweatshop, makes very little money and is forced to borrow $25 from Mamie to furnish his small slum apartment that he shares with his wife, son, and boarder, Mr. Bernstein (Mel Howard). Bernstein, a student of Torah and Talmud in Poland, has mostly given up his beloved studies in order to eke out a tiny pittance behind a sewing machine.
Silver deftly captures the insularity of this world and its own self-imposed restrictions. When the characters step out of their small, circumscribed neighborhood, they feel ill at ease, even when they are marveling at Central Park — Gitl, at once puzzled and thrilled, quips that it took more than an hour of travel for them to see a tree.
The film boasts an unabashed, unapologetic hallmark of authenticity — from its use of Yiddish as a real language spoken by real people to its depiction of a Jewish divorce — the gett, a sad little ritual that is nevertheless liberating for both parties involved. Gitl has requested the gett, but as religion and custom dictate, only the husband can grant it. The double standard is blatant and not without its grim comic elements. As the rabbi remarks at the end of the proceedings, Gitl has to wait 90 days to get remarried, while Jake is free to tie the knot with someone else immediately.
Nevertheless, and this is what makes the film so subtle, Gitl is the one who initiated the divorce. She’s the one in charge as she matures, evolves and, yes, becomes more Americanized in dress and behavior.
She learns how money and, more important, the ability to negotiate for it is the source of personal agency. Before the divorce Mamie’s lawyer offers Gitl $50, a sizable sum in those days, to leave Jake. Gitl is shocked by the idea that she can be bought, a response the lawyer misinterprets as a maneuvering tactic. He throws in an extra $25, repelling her even more. So, he sweetens the deal — it’s $100 now, his final offer. Empowered and emboldened she slowly grasps a fundamental American lesson.
Kane’s performance is delicate and nuanced, earning her a well-deserved Best Actress Oscar nomination. Keats is fine too as a loud, crass stumbling go-getter. The acting all around is noteworthy, including those playing smaller roles, not least Doris Roberts as the intrusive, yet protective and likable yenta.
Hester Street has a hint of the fable. Some sections are overstated and feel stagey but function splendidly within the context of a parable. Jake works way too hard at being a “real Yankee Doodle Dandy.” Mamie’s outfits suggest wealth she couldn’t possibly have. And the outdoor scenes overflowing with horse-drawn carriages and hawkers selling textiles and notions and foods from broken down pushcarts look as though they were shot in a Hollywood studio though ironically enough they were shot on location. Either way, the flaws become virtues.
What you’re left with is the complexity, the cost and joy of assimilation. Now married to Mamie, Jake is determined to move forward as an American. So too is Gitl, though for her being an American does not preclude a connection to her past. She strolls down the street arm in arm with Mr. Bernstein, her young son in tow. They are all forging new paths for themselves — their choices perhaps divergent, but equally inevitable.
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