Loosely based on Isaac Bashevis Singer’s story, ‘Yentl: the Yeshiva Boy’, director Barbra Streisand’s Yentl (1983) is a whimsical, often intense and moving melodramatic pop opera, charting a young woman’s journey of self discovery at a time and place when women were expected to merely be decorous appendages to their male counterparts. Set in a tiny Jewish eastern European community in 1904, the story opens with Yentl (Streisand); a determined, enigmatic and loving daughter to Reb Mendel (Nehemiah Persoff).At age 28, Yentl is a spinster too old to marry, though her father continues to have his hopes. Mendel is a patient, kind and benevolent patriarch who coddles his daughter’s thirst for knowledge by teaching her life lessons from the Holy Scriptures, thus making her the intellectual equivalent to any man. This progressive concept does not bode well with the townsfolk. Hence, upon Mendel’s death, Yentl crops her hair, dresses in her father’s clothes and leaves home in search of her destiny.
Almost immediately, Yentl finds solace inside a nearby seminary where she is befriended by two scholars; Shimmele (Allan Corduner) and Avigdor (Mandy Patinkin). Both men presume Yentl to be a prepubescent boy named Anschel. At first, Yentl revels in the luxuries afforded her in a man’s world.
But then she begins to have affections for Avigdor, who is engaged to marry Hadass (Amy Irving); the daughter of Reb Alter Vishkower (Steven Hill). Unable to qualify or even share her emotions with Avigdor, Yentl agrees to help Avigdor in his plans to see Hadass after Reb Vishkower discovers that Avigdor’s brother has committed suicide – thus, branding Avigdor a bad prospect for Hadass to marry.
From here the story only becomes more complex as Yentl is married to Hadass. Unable to consummate the marriage, Yentl instead begins to educate Hadass. Believing that Hadass and Avigdor will eventually find a way to be together, Yentl is instead shocked to learn that abstinence has made Hadass fall in love with her instead.
Encouraging a ‘man’s outing’ with Avigdor away from Hadass, Yentl confesses her secret identity to Avigdor – and furthermore – that she has been in love with him for quite some time. At first understandably incensed, Avigdor realizes that the bond he has shared with Yentl has indeed transgressed from male friendship to genuine male/female affection.
Avigdor offers to marry Yentl. But she sends him back to Hadass, departing for America instead for an even more uncertain future – determined, as Yentl herself puts it, not to settle for “just a piece of sky.”
At the time of its release, critics generally lauded the film as groundbreaking. Yet, more than two decades removed from its original theatrical release, the imperfections of the piece seem to stand out. The last act of the film, quite frankly, makes little sense.
Yentl manipulating Hadass into believing that she cannot consummate their marriage until Hadass rids her mind of impure thoughts about Avigdor reeks of some self effacing and wicked manipulation; the comedy that results only seeming to underscore what a cruel trick Yentl has made of both her affections for Avigdor and the meaningful relationship that might have been between Avigdor and Hadass.
Even more of a mystery is why Yentl – having confessed her undying love to Avigdor after revealing herself to him as a woman – should just as easily spurn Avigdor’s genuine reciprocation of love for her and send him back instead to Hadass.
These miscalculations in construction within the Jack Rosenthal screenplay (co-authored with Streisand) are counterbalanced, if not blind-sided, by a first rate musical score sung to perfection by Streisand. There is longing – a note of genuine sadness and, even more remarkably, a ray of hope - when Streisand sings ‘Papa Can You Hear Me?’ and the ‘A Piece of Sky’ finale. As director, Streisand is on even more solid ground. Her production has genuine weight in merit of its staging with Roy Walker’s production design, Judy Moorcroft’s costuming and Tessa Davies set decoration all contributing to a very palpable middle European feel.
Streisand is indeed in her element as hero/heroine, honing her fine gifts both as a songstress and director. She conceived Yentl’s journey as a series of lakes, rivers and finally – an ocean – to be crossed in her attempt to quench her thirst for knowledge. Though one can hardly – if ever - mistake Streisand to be the prepubescent male everyone else willingly sees, she carries off the machination of playing at a man’s world enough to be tolerated, if not accepted, in the part.
Amy Irving sleepwalks her way through the part of Hadass, but Mandy Patinkin is quite effective as the world wise and prudent scholar who is torn emotionally by all of the romantic confusions that surround him. In the final analysis, Yentl is hardly a perfect entertainment – but one with much to admire in its exposition of the drama celebrating that human spirit longing to break free and rejoice.
After an overdue absence on DVD, MGM/Fox Home Entertainment at last brings us Yentl in a 2 disc edition. Yet, the results are hardly stellar. Image quality is merely middle of the road. Though David Watkins’ cinematography incorporates sepia like washes, much of this transfer seems to be bathed in an overly yellow hue. Flesh tones fluctuate almost within the same scene from relatively natural to an unhealthy jaundice color. Fine detail is often lost in lower contrasted night scenes, particularly during ‘Papa Can You Hear Me?’ where Streisand’s head (framed in the limited glow of a single candle) seems to float in a muddy ether of undistinguished brown/black nightscapes.
MGM/Fox has afforded us two versions of Yentl on disc one: the original 1983 theatrical cut put out by United Artists and Streisand’s ‘re-envisioned’ director’s cut that is barely ten minutes longer. Unfortunately, rather than restore this footage for the ‘director’s cut’ so that it seamlessly blends with the existing footage, MGM/Fox has merely dumped these rough cut segments into the finished film. The rough sequences are marred by excessive age related artifacts and a general degradation of consistency in color or rendering of fine details. Disc One also contains a brief intro from Streisand and some additional deleted scenes.
Disc Two is hardly a comprehensive look back, as one might expect. Rather Streisand makes small talk during several abbreviated intros that bookend some left over footage haphazardly thrown together. We get to hear two deleted audio recordings of songs cut from the film, accompanied by storyboards of the scene that might have been. There’s also a bizarre tribute to the cast and crew – basically, behind the scenes footage strung together with an overlay of music from the film’s end credits.
FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)
3
VIDEO/AUDIO
3
EXTRAS
3



