I want to skip ahead for a second, because against everything I experienced previously while watching Hallmark's nonsensically titled holiday movie "Hanukkah on Rye," I cried at the end. There's a moment where the romantic leads' grandmothers realize they have a deeper connection than the plot contrivance of their respective deli behemoths, and I was, in spite of my better judgment, touched. Images of diasporic Jews finding each other after lifetimes apart will always carry with it a certain bittersweet resonance, even when it comes after 80 minutes of regressive vapidity. Ya got me.
To watch "Hanukkah on Rye" is to experience a racial othering in real time.
