Barbara Streisand's Yentl
The 1983 film is finally being released on DVD.
A peddler pulls a cart full of books into the ramshackle main square of an Eastern European shtetl.
"Storybooks for women," goes his mantra-like call for customers, "sacred books for men." The careful divide--scholarship for men, frivolity for their wives and daughters--is never to be breached. The time and place is "Eastern Europe, 1904"--no specifics, please! And Yentl, the lone daughter of the scholarly Reb Mendel, is chafing at the limits of her constricted mental universe.
Imprisoned behind the bars of the synagogue's balcony, forbidden to enter the men's study hall, Yentl is a bird whose wings have been clipped before she has even had the chance to take flight.
A Unique Blend of Musical, Comedy, & Drama
Based on Isaac Bashevis Singer's classic short story, the Barbra Streisand-directed, much-loved, and much-lampooned 1983 film has only now received its much-belated DVD release, in 2009. Alternating madly between screwball comedy, full-throated MGM-brand musical, and drama, Yentl never entirely settles on a genre, or a tone. It seems content to leave things that way.
The irrepressible Yentl (Streisand) dreams of devoting herself to the study of the Talmud, but finds herself barred by her sex. "They're talking about life, the mysteries of the universe," she complains, "and I'm learning how to tell herring from a carp!"
So Yentl learns Torah by following along with her father's lessons to the town's boys,--where she mutters (and occasionally shouts) the answers to the questions proffered--and in late-night study sessions with her father, conducted with the windows closed and the shades drawn. When her father sleeps, Yentl takes out his tallit and wraps herself in it, the light from the lamp behind her revealing an unmistakably feminine silhouette under the ritual garment.
Hiding Her True Identity
After her father's unexpected death, Yentl flees to another town, cloaked in the soft black cap, glasses, and tzitzit (fringes) that mark the unmarried religious scholar, in order to be granted the masculine privilege of learning Torah, and escape the feminine burden of crushingly boring domestic work.
On her journeys, she falls in love with Avigdor (Mandy Patinkin), a hearty fellow student who takes an immediate liking to the frail, seemingly pre-pubescent boy. Yentl, now having taken the manlier name of Anshel, is accepted at Avigdor's yeshiva and taken in by the family of Avigdor's fiancée Hadass (Amy Irving).
Avigdor is not just a compatriot; he is the man of Yentl's dreams, the mate and intellectual partner she yearns for. Yentl's dramatic scenes are fairly restrained, but Streisand knows no restrain as a singer. Like diary entries, Yentl's songs offer a glimpse of the private, unfettered sentiments of her life in hiding. But arriving like clockwork every 15 minutes or so, the film's musical interludes (written by Michel Legrand, with lyrics by Alan and Marilyn Bergman) seem recklessly over-the-top, leaping from crescendo to crescendo.
Like the circling seagulls Streisand enjoys cutting to as symbolic counterpoint, Yentl is now free as a bird. Yet, she is forced to stay in the air, sacrificing all corporeal heft. Her obsessive pursuit of the intellectual pleasures in Jewish scholarship have denied her access to the tangible pleasures of life. While the other yeshiva bochurs (boys) clap each other heartily on the back, share beds, and bathe in the nude, Yentl shrinks in the corner, desperately wishing her body away. This proves to be trickier than anticipated.