Thursday March 8, 2007
‘Shvitz’ DVD provides steamy look at vanishing institution
by michael fox correspondent
An affectionate, albeit bittersweet, homage to the once-ubiquitous New York steam bath, “The Shvitz” was pretty well steeped in nostalgia when it debuted on the festival circuit in the early ’90s. You can imagine how it plays now.
Jonathan Berman’s wonderfully vibrant documentary, which opened the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival back in 1994, was conceived at the time as a look at the dynamic and ever-changing New York cityscape through a very specific lens. But this luminous film has gained poignancy and power in the ensuing years; it may have been intended as a work of sociology, but now it stands as history.
“The Shvitz” has been released on DVD by Docurama, and it’s ideal for winter viewing. In truth, regardless of the season, it will be the rare viewer who does not crave the comfort and camaraderie of a shvitz by the end of the film.
Most of the documentary is shot in black-and-white in two locations — on the boardwalk in Brighton Beach and inside one of the few remaining shvitzes. In the outdoor scenes, a number of older Jews (singly and in groups) recount how the bathhouse began in Russia at a time when few people had bathtubs. When tens of thousands of Russian Jews migrated to New York, they brought along many of their traditions, including the shvitz.
Berman augments his interviews with wonderful old footage of the shtetl, Ellis Island and the crowds that once thronged the Lower East Side and, on weekends, Coney Island. The home movies are in color while the present is in black-and-white, an aesthetic choice that is not merely ironic, but fixes the shvitz in our mind as a part of the past.
The current shvitzers, interviewed with or without their towels, describe their weekly visit as a ritual. Health is just one of the benefits they cite, along with relaxation, socializing, escape and male bonhomie. Of course, any activity that begins with an optional shot of vodka is bound to have a variety of effects, not all medicinal.
This lovingly probing portrait does not overlook women bathers, past and present, and it matter-of-factly debunks the perception that the shvitz was purely a man’s place. At the same time, there’s a lot of male banter and horsing around, so a macho sensibility inevitably pervades the film. (If you think “macho Jews” is an oxymoron, check out “The Shvitz” and then buy a ticket to New York, Chicago or Detroit.)
The film doesn’t come out and say it, but the gradual decline of the steam baths coincided with the postwar exodus of young Jewish families to the suburbs. The nationalities and ethnic groups that came to New York in subsequent decades — many from the hot-weather climes of Latin, Central and South America — did not view a shvitz as remotely pleasurable.
Some of the facilities carried on with great success by catering to a gay clientele seeking something other than shvitzing and kibitzing, one interviewee notes. But the outbreak of AIDS in the ’80s resulted in the closure of several bathhouses.
At 47 minutes, this marvelous slice of life doesn’t overstate its themes, overwork its points or overstay its welcome. As a bonus, some Yiddish is sprinkled in while the words “sauna” and “spa” are never uttered once.
Since “The Shvitz” is less than feature-length, Berman and the distributor have included two short films that offer different and complementary takes on the big city. Neither “The City,” made for the 1939 World’s Fair, nor Carson Davidson’s “3rd Ave. El” speak to the Jewish experience in New York. But in Berman’s view, all three works comprise “a celebration of urbanity — a place for the overexcited, messy and yet strangely compelling life of the city.”
“The Shvitz” is available on DVD at Amazon.com for $23.99.
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