The Jazz Singer

I just listened to the radio adaptation of "The Jazz Singer". It was done with Al Jolson on Lux Radio Theater in 1936. (You can download it here, if you're interested.) It was common for popular Hollywood films to be broadcast on the radio. This film, though, I think translates to radio better than most. (In fact, I would say that this is MORE successful on radio than on film.)

(Side-note: I'm listening to the radio adaptation of "Pinocchio," and it isn't nearly as good.)

At risk of giving away the ending to an 81 year-old movie, at the end, Al Jolson's character sings Kol Nidre in place of his father, who died earlier in the night.

I cannot speak for Jolson's connection with the music, but for me, this has a tremendous meaning. And part of it is the way he sings it. It reminds me of when Kol Nidre was the most meaningful and powerful thing in the Jewish liturgy to me and would make me cry. It makes me miss the days when it meant something.

I remember the last time Cantor Candler -- the man who lent me his name for my middle name in Hebrew -- sang it. It was Yom Kippur 1999. I was months shy of 14 years old. I remember looking out the large windows onto the newly-flowered rotary, beautifying the town of Brookline in order to usher in The Ryder Cup to The Country Club as I stood waiting for the service to start. Everybody felt it would be Cantor Candler's last Kol Nidre -- he was nearing 100, after all, and the upstairs service -- the one he sang that night -- was standing-room only. (Ironic, in a way, since the prayer is recited stood in its entirety.)

Cantor Candler's voice was never operatic or truly magnificent as far as singers go, but there was a power and meaning in his voice -- it was the perfect voice for prayer, and while it may not have been the perfect voice to listen to, it was certainly the perfect voice to be overcome by.

It's amazing how months away from any holiday of significance, I remember back to how nice it felt to be overcome with that kind of emotion. I don't think I've felt it since that -- nor am I particularly looking for it. There certainly is a void where it once was, but I don't think it will be filled by religion again -- or at least not any time soon.

It's amazing the power of radio -- even 72 years after the fact.