he's got talent

Michael, my nephew, has always loved TV and movies.

As a child, he could frequently be found dressed in costume, playing some character. His Home Alone re-enactment was more engaging than the real thing.



Even Michael's Bar Mitzvah theme reflected his interest in entertainment.

In college, Michael majored in creative writing. He let me read some of his work and it was really good. There was no need to temper my response when he sought my opinion. 

After graduating from college in 2008, Michael moved to LA. His two older brothers wanted him here in New York where they lived. At the time, they even had a bedroom in their apartment, open and waiting for Michael to occupy. Everyone supported Michael's ambition, despite secretly hoping he'd remain in New York. It would have been easy for Michael to stay. But he didn't. 

Michael relocates to the west coast.  He works hard, finds an agent, raises money, and then writes, directs and stars in his first feature film.  This Thing With Sara is released in 2013. And soon he's on to his next project. And his next. And now another movie, The Escort. I watched it last night and loved it. And I'm not alone. 

ScreenRelish, in an online review, says:

"What we do witness, is two impressive performances from Slocombe’s leads who not only share a believable – and beautiful – chemistry, but who both deserve a long and successful career within the film industry."  

Decide for yourself.  

It's available on iTunes and OnDemand.

Purchase on iTunes: http://radi.al/TheEscort

Hashtag: #TheEscort

Twitter Handle: @EscortMovie

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdNCiS1cTU8&feature=youtu.be

Michael is a talent worth following.  And I'd say that even if he weren't my nephew, and one of the best people I know.

once there were three; now there are none

There were three synagogues in Brockton Massachusetts when I was growing up: Agudas Achim, the orthodox temple, Beth Emunah, the conservative one, and Israel, the reformed.  

Most of my friends were members of either Temple Israel or Beth Emunah. That's where my family belonged.  In fact, my parents were among its first members when their doors opened in 1952 on Cottage Street. Much of my social life centered on the Jewish community. 

I attended Hebrew School two days a week plus Sunday morning. It was there I became good friends with both Vivien and Amy. All the students were known by their Hebrew names. I was Temmi, a name I think my parents made up to reflect their second choice secular name for me, Tammy — hardly an improvement over Linda.  Outside of Hebrew School, my friends and I would often refer to our classmates by their Hebrew names. Schlomo Slomka, for example, was a much better descriptor than just plain Steven. And the handsome David Slutsky sounded more exotic as Daveed.

The rabbi at Temple Israel was the beloved Rabbi Erhmann. His son David and I still keep in touch. Being less strict than Beth Emunah, Temple Israel always seemed the more fun temple. Plus, there were fewer Hebrew School requirements, arguably making it the better place for a pre-teen.

My friends and I could regularly be found at temple. We always attended the Jewish holiday services, if for no other reason than to be seen in our new fall clothes. There were temple dances, though none come to mind as memorable. And Bar and Bat Mitvahs filled our calendars around the time we became teens.

And while I am not religious — I  don't even belong to a synagogue now — strong Jewish roots were established at Temple Beth Emunah, under the watchful eyes of Rabbi Liberman and Cantor Gluck.

This week, Temple Beth Emunah announced it's leaving town. It had been the only Jewish congregation still standing in a city that once supported three. My memories, looking back, are all positive. 

Vivien (bottom row left), me (bottom row second from left), Amy (top row second in from left),
and Bonnie Dumanis (second in from right, bottom row).

Though at the time, it doesn't look like Vivien, Amy or I were all too happy attending Hebrew School. But at least Bonnie Dumanis  (the DA of San Diego since 2003) seems to have been having a good time.

creative pricing

If you live in Manhattan, you've probably shopped at Eli's. 

Inspired by the food halls of Europe, Eli's offers all kinds of specialty foods, as well as baked goods, prepared meals, packaged items, their own brands, and everything in between. Eli's products are generally excellent.

When I was on the Cape, I bought a cranberry loaf at Maison Villatte, a French Bakery on Main Street in Falmouth. It costs about $6, and is indescribably delicious.  I've been looking for the same here, and think maybe Eli's will carry it.

Eli's is near me, but I rarely shop there. I imagine their pricing strategy goes something like this.

Owner:  Everyone (addressing his store managers), listen up.  How much do you think we can get by charging for this bottle of ketchup?

Manager Al:  I dunno. They're selling it at D'Agostino for $3.99.

Owner:  Okay, so let's try $5.99 and see how it goes. I think a 50% mark-up is fine; most of our customers probably wouldn't step foot in a D'Agostino.

Next we have this small fruit salad. Fairway is selling something similar for $5.

Manager Bob: Ya, but everyone knows our fruits are fresher than Fairways. Let's try to double the price on this and ask $10.

Manager Chuck:  Gee, I don't know Bob. $10 seems a little high for that.  What about half way, say $7.50.

Owner:  I agree guys, $10 does sound high. But hey, let's try it, We can always lower the price later if it doesn’t sell.

Remember when we priced those small tangerines or tangelos or whatever the hell they were at  $15.99 a pound and people bought them?

Al, Bob and Chuck: (big smiles all around).

I go to Eli's today and ask if they sell cranberry loaves. They do. YES! I'm directed to the homemade bread section.

And guess what? I find them.. They don't look quite as good as the crusty baguette loaf at Maison Villatte, but Eli's would definitely be worth a try.

Until I see this:

$16.95 for a full loaf? I'll wait 'til I'm back on the Cape.

humbled

In 2002 I am talking to a casting director I know; her daughter and Alexander are 3rd grade classmates.  

"You should really join BAFTA (The British Academy of Film and Television Arts)," she says. "It's equivalent to the Academy Awards and Emmys combined."  I had never even thought about it.

"If you become a voting member, you get invited to all sorts of screenings, and at the end of the year, you get tons of DVD's s of movies the studios want you to watch before you vote." "Are all the movies British?" I ask.  "No, " Adrienne responds. "They just have to be shown in the UK. So basically, about every movie."

So I join, and am accepted as a full-voting member. I had been in television for many years, and even worked with BBC America when I was at Discovery.

Over the years, my interest and involvement with BAFTA NY has increased. I joined the Screening Committee in 2011 and started working directly with some major studios.

This summer I am elected to the Board.  And then...

I get a phone call from the new BAFTA NY CEO. She asks if I'll take over as Chair of the NY Screening Committee. It's a big job with lots of responsibility and no pay. I tell Julie I'll think about it.

And I do.

Last week I meet with Julie and Lisa (previous screening committee chair and now COO), two dynamic woman with whom I love working. BAFTA NY is an incredible organization and I am humbled to be asked to take on a leadership role. I know the people on the committee, and they are all hard-working and talented. And, I get to choose my Vice-Chair. 

After the meeting I call Melinda and ask her if she'll work with me, and miraculously she says yes. I am thrilled. A little of my fear in taking on this important role is dissipated.

So today the announcement goes out.

I am following in some very big footsteps; I hope I don't trip.

small injury, big pain

I'm watching The Today Show the other day and the hosts are making vegetable chips. They (the chips) look great.

Then I notice that Siri the cook (not to be confused with Siri the iPhone genie) uses something called a mandolin slicer. Her chips are all uniformly cut. I picture making all kinds of perfectly sliced vegetables, maybe even potatoes.

After a diligent internet search, I find the Rösle Adjustable Handheld Slicer. It's sleek, small, durable and easy to use, according to the Amazon reviews. I use my Amazon Reward Points and buy one.

The slicer arrives today. How can you not love Amazon Prime? I ordered it yesterday and it is delivered today, Sunday. I had bought fresh zucchini at the Farmer's Market, then picked up an uncooked stuffed branzino at Agata's.

My new slicer comes with no instructions, and I ask Alexander if he can figure out where the blades are. He turns the little side wheels and the razor blades lift.  The reviewers on Amazon boast of the blades sharpness.

I begin slicing and immediately love this little gadget. Uniform pieces of zucchini begin to accumulate; I stop paying attention, and the next thing I know,  I'm bleeding. A lot. About a quarter of my right thumb nail has been sliced off. It looks a lot better than it feels.

It really really hurts. 

Alexander helps me get bandaged and neosporinized.

The zucchini is great. But hardly worth the pain it took to make it!

choosing right

Zelia is not a girly-girl. She once confessed that she felt bad for her daughter.  "I don't care about fashion and make-up.  Poor Victoria."

So I shouldn't have been surprised when after making plans with Zelia to see Trainwreck tonight, she calls.  "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was a romantic comedy. I really hate those kind of movies." Instead she suggests a documentary called The Wolfpack, about six NYC brothers who were pretty much raised inside their small NYC apartment, and rarely allowed out. It's playing at one theater on the lower east side.

I want to see the movie too, but not enough to spend $19 and about four hours of time (when you factor in transportation). 

Because The Wolfpack is a small indie film, I wonder if it's on PPV. While I'm on the phone with Zelia, I do a quick search, and there it is for $6.99. Perfect.

Around 8:30, I go to Zelia's, a few blocks away.  

I'll just say this. PPV was by far the smarter choice. Flexible start time. No need for the subway. Allows for personal commentary. Much cheaper. And so much closer.

I'm home by 10:30. 

wake up call

I'm up late again watching Breaking Bad with Alexander. 

The show is addictive.  Honestly, I have never watched anything on TV as good as this. Smart writing, gorgeous cinematography, beautifully developed characters, and small story elements that are never expected. It's a show that is totally unpredictable. Not like, "OMG, I would never have suspected him." No, the plot twists are far more subtle and interesting. And seemingly inconsequential introductions can develop episodes later into pivotal show-altering situations. We are beginning Season Three, and of 22 episodes so far, we have not watched one weak one.  Not one that Alexander would characterize as filler, as he often did with episodes of Homeland or 24.  Every single episode of Breaking Bad advances the plot and characters in important ways; there is no waste.

I try to sleep but can't. Thoughts of Skyler, Walt and Jesse keep me awake. Finally, I drift off, only to awaken again at 1:30. I think I'll have steak for dinner so I take one out of the freezer to defrost. Now I'm wide awake. It's after 3 before I fall asleep again.

10:20 this morning. 

Alexander marches into my bedroom clanking together two big aluminum pots, shouting, "Get up. Get up. Get up"  I smile. He's mimicking me when I had to get him up for school. Now he's more responsible. 

He pulls my covers off me, still shouting, "Get up. Get up. Get up."  I did that too.

And then when all else failed, the dripping water.

Alexander remembers that too, and returns threatening me with water.  "If you don't get up now, I am going to pour this on your head."  I would just let a few drops dribble onto his forehead, and that was always as a last resort. He would probably have dumped the whole bottle on me had I not gotten up. He doesn't do much in moderation. Plus, it would have delighted him to do it.

"What have you done so far today?  It's almost noon and you've done nothing."

"The day is already half gone," he continues to shout.

"Make you bed."

"And you left your water bottles all over the living room."  

I listen to my words come out of my son's mouth. Please tell me I don't sound like that!