Beloved supporting players Jason Schwartzman and Carol Kane grasp the chance to play leading roles in this delightful riff on Harold and Maude from indie maven Nathan Silver. In his ninth film, and with easily his most high profile cast, Silver skilfully addresses various tropes of Jewish humour and screwball comedy in a loose, relaxed narrative that isn’t afraid to leave things up to the viewer.
Ben Gottlieb (Schwartzman) is the cantor at his local synagogue, but has lost his voice and his faith after the death of his wife a year previously. He spends his time with his two mothers, Meira (Caroline Aaron) and Judith (Dolly de Leon), as they fuss around him and try to set him up with the daughters of their friends at synagogue or, weirdly, an appointment for plastic surgery. After getting punched in a bar after a bout of self-pitying drinking he’s helped by Carla (Kane), his former music teacher at school. Before long, he’s accepted her as an adult bat mitzvah student, beginning an odd friendship.
Schwartzman and Kane are playing characters that are firmly in their respective wheelhouses, but manage to imbue their characters with enough individual personality to feel distinct from what they’ve one before. Part of this is down to their push-me-pull-you chemistry as Ben and Carla, as teasing depth and warmth from each other. Schwartzman has dialled down his officious, supercilious mode from the likes of Rushmore, and Kane feels more keyed in to her 70s New Hollywood era than her recent overtly eccentric roles. Together, they form a touching and mutually supportive friendship.
It is this grounded quality that helps keep Between the Temples in the realms of plausibility; heightened for sure, but with characters who are more than ciphers. De Leon in particular is wonderful as the perennial overbearing, interfering Jewish mother. It’s just in this case she’s a zealous Filipino convert who’s playing that role, her wife Meira being notably more laidback. Madeleine Weinstein also offers strong support as Rabbi’s daughter Gabby, a potential love interest for Ben on the grounds that she’s ‘also a mess’. A darkly funny scene in which she seduces Ben using the erotic voicemails his late wife used to leave for him is weirdly sexy and indicative of the delicate balance between the outlandish and believable that Silver employs so well.
Further nods to Harold and Maude, apart from the obvious age gap, are in the impeccable music choices that feel intrinsic with the narrative. There’s no Cat Stevens here, but a selection of Yiddish and Hebrew songs that couldn’t fit more perfectly. Visually, the decision to film in 16mm, Silver’s regular medium, also gives warm, soft-edged tactility that harks back to the idiosyncratic, offbeat days of Ashby, Altman, Bogdanovich et al.
It’s a delightful story, culminating in a brilliantly chaotic dinner scene that leaves the frayed strings of several relationships open. It’s a testament to how enjoyable this raggedy, low-budget indie is that you’re left grasping for clues for what could possibly happen next. It’s not the type of film where te protagonists ride off into the sunset, but these are lived-in, rounded and lovably flawed characters, all beautifully performed.
Screened as part of Sundance Festival 2024
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