England's Alan Rickman, star of stage and screen, is here with his gift, My Name Is Rachel Corrie, so that we can all hate Israel together.
That play, which Rickman co-wrote, directed and championed, is now running off-Broadway with Megan Dodd as its only performer, so there's no room for Vanessa Redgrave or Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. It's all about this American woman, a member of the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), who got run over by an Israeli bulldozer.
Apparently, she was trying to stop the demolition of Palestinian Arab homes in Gaza - homes that are frequently used to conceal tunnels that traffic in bombs and suicide bombers from Egypt (or anywhere) into Israel. Jewish children are specific targets of these terrorists and ISM wants no child left behind. This is a London-based organization, with worldwide membership, and its primary goal is to "end the occupation" (without mentioning the end of Israel).
ISM members frequently and proudly operate as human shields. They shielded Yasser Arafat so that he could continue his wonderful work. These devotees of "non-violence" shielded jihadists who went on a murderous spree and who then went into hiding inside the Church of the Nativity, which, incidentally, the jihadists used as a latrine.
Rickman's play was a smash in London and elsewhere around England. He got an award for best director. This is not surprising.
All of Europe is a changing neighborhood. Mosques already outnumber synagogues. Churches are next. Two thirds of all British men and women - based on those surveyed - believe that Israel is a threat to world peace. Thousands of British academics are in favor of boycotting Israel. They prefer Hamas. (Melanie Phillips tells it well in her book Londonistan.) This play, then, had a ready audience in England.
Rickman prefers that we forget about Israel being the only democracy in the Middle East, the only place over there that does not practice apartheid (try going to church in Saudi Arabia), and never mind that virtually every offer of peace by Israel is met by war. Rickman prefers that we adopt European-style Hate, Actually. (Yes, Rickman was fine in that movie Love, Actually.)
It's not enough that Europe has rediscovered its inner Hitler - Rickman wants to share this bad blood.
Will America buy this imported propaganda now playing as My Name Is Rachel Corrie? Unlikely. We don't do blood libel. That's a European specialty. Works of "art," however, can be dangerously persuasive - and never mind that it's "only" a play or "only" a movie. First came Leni Riefenstahl's 1934 film Triumph of the Will and then came Auschwitz.
It's all about conditioning people to join the grudge against Israel one generation at a time. Here and now, the play's the thing.
Europe has a tradition of staging blood libels for pleasure and for export, like Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice.
This is Rickman's bet - that we'll respond to his handiwork as Europe did to Shylock.
No thanks.
Keep it in Londonistan.
Stay home, actually.
(Addendum: It appears that the play is drawing some sympathetic crowds even here, in New York - proof that you can fool some of the people some of the time.)
Go here to get the latest installment of The Bathsheba Deadline - Jack Engelhard's latest novel and Amazon.com's first serialized novel. Part 11 is due out in the coming days. Haven't started reading it yet? Click the link and scroll down - all previous installments are there and ready to be downloaded.
That play, which Rickman co-wrote, directed and championed, is now running off-Broadway with Megan Dodd as its only performer, so there's no room for Vanessa Redgrave or Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. It's all about this American woman, a member of the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), who got run over by an Israeli bulldozer.
Apparently, she was trying to stop the demolition of Palestinian Arab homes in Gaza - homes that are frequently used to conceal tunnels that traffic in bombs and suicide bombers from Egypt (or anywhere) into Israel. Jewish children are specific targets of these terrorists and ISM wants no child left behind. This is a London-based organization, with worldwide membership, and its primary goal is to "end the occupation" (without mentioning the end of Israel).
ISM members frequently and proudly operate as human shields. They shielded Yasser Arafat so that he could continue his wonderful work. These devotees of "non-violence" shielded jihadists who went on a murderous spree and who then went into hiding inside the Church of the Nativity, which, incidentally, the jihadists used as a latrine.
Rickman's play was a smash in London and elsewhere around England. He got an award for best director. This is not surprising.
All of Europe is a changing neighborhood. Mosques already outnumber synagogues. Churches are next. Two thirds of all British men and women - based on those surveyed - believe that Israel is a threat to world peace. Thousands of British academics are in favor of boycotting Israel. They prefer Hamas. (Melanie Phillips tells it well in her book Londonistan.) This play, then, had a ready audience in England.
Rickman prefers that we forget about Israel being the only democracy in the Middle East, the only place over there that does not practice apartheid (try going to church in Saudi Arabia), and never mind that virtually every offer of peace by Israel is met by war. Rickman prefers that we adopt European-style Hate, Actually. (Yes, Rickman was fine in that movie Love, Actually.)
It's not enough that Europe has rediscovered its inner Hitler - Rickman wants to share this bad blood.
Will America buy this imported propaganda now playing as My Name Is Rachel Corrie? Unlikely. We don't do blood libel. That's a European specialty. Works of "art," however, can be dangerously persuasive - and never mind that it's "only" a play or "only" a movie. First came Leni Riefenstahl's 1934 film Triumph of the Will and then came Auschwitz.
It's all about conditioning people to join the grudge against Israel one generation at a time. Here and now, the play's the thing.
Europe has a tradition of staging blood libels for pleasure and for export, like Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice.
This is Rickman's bet - that we'll respond to his handiwork as Europe did to Shylock.
No thanks.
Keep it in Londonistan.
Stay home, actually.
(Addendum: It appears that the play is drawing some sympathetic crowds even here, in New York - proof that you can fool some of the people some of the time.)
Go here to get the latest installment of The Bathsheba Deadline - Jack Engelhard's latest novel and Amazon.com's first serialized novel. Part 11 is due out in the coming days. Haven't started reading it yet? Click the link and scroll down - all previous installments are there and ready to be downloaded.