The Refiner’s Fire: Television

The Patriarchs On Prime Time

“Time is ripe like a fig and there is only one fruit on the tree.” With these words Rebekah convinces her son Jacob to trick Isaac into giving him the blessing—and she does so on prime television time. Time, it seems, is also ripe for television networks to give religion prime-time airing.

Such programs as “Catholics” (CBS), the “Religious America” series on NET, and the Waltons with their homespun Christianity have had wide publicity and good reviews. And now ABC plans a two-hour special, “The Story of Jacob and Joseph,” for Palm Sunday, April 7, at 8:30 P.M. Filmed by Screen Gems and produced by Mildred Freed Alberg, the story closely follows the biblical narrative. Ms. Alberg at a preview screening in New York last month explained that “The Story of Jacob and Joseph” begins with the assumption that the patriarchs were real people, that the events described in Genesis actually happened, and that the Lord God moved in their midst. These beliefs are evident in the film. Nevertheless, the script-writer not only added imaginatively to the biblical story but altered it in a few places. The emphasis on its factuality is good, but the tampering with the biblical record is not.

The agony of Rebekah’s labor, begun in the heat-scorched fields, opens the film. The viewer is plunged immediately into the misery of a long barren woman who now feels too old to bear children. In her despondence she cries out against God, who tells her of the two nations in her womb. (The film departs from the Genesis account by moving this scene up to the time of labor.) To portray such despair without seeming melodramatic is no easy task, and Colleen Dewhurst as Rebekah does not quite succeed. But subsequent moving portrayals compensate for the weak—or perhaps too emphatic—beginning.

Alan Bates in his narration succinctly explains God’s command that all living creatures be fruitful and multiply. God’s blessing is seen in the fertility of cattle, and sheep, and goats—and wives. This point explains Rebekah’s agony and gives focus to the jealousy between Leah and Rachel.

For dramatic purposes author Ernest Kinoy depicts Esau’s anger as immediate and violent when he discovers his brother’s deception. In the film Esau (Julian Glover) does not intend to wait for his father Isaac’s death before killing his brother, as he does in Genesis. Nor does Isaac know of Jacob’s leaving, when at his mother’s suggestion he runs away to Laban. Taking this liberty with the biblical narrative does not seem to violate the spirit of the story.

The same cannot be said for a few other liberties taken with the scriptural text. On the way to Padanaram, Jacob (Keith Michell of “The Six Wives of Henry the Eighth” fame) dreams of the ladder of God and receives the promise that his descendants will be as numerous as the dust of the earth. The production fortunately does not try to show the dream, nor do we ever hear God speak; we learn from the visitant the words of God. But unfortunately, perhaps because of a time limitation, the scene at Bethel is combined with that of Jacob’s name change when he returns to Canaan twenty years later. Jacob takes the name of Israel for himself; he does not even report that God gives it to him (“I shall call myself Israel”).

In Part II, “Joseph and His Brothers,” Potiphar is portrayed as homosexual; his whole appearance is too reminiscent of that of Herod in the film Jesus Christ Superstar. The man is flabby with a pasty complexion. He is greedy and lacks nobility as well as intelligence. When we first see Potiphar he is petulantly complaining that he paid for forty fowl but received only twenty. Joseph’s ability to read and write—he explains to the pouting Potiphar that the problem was one of bookkeeping only—brings about his promotion.

The portrayal of Potiphar as a homosexual is meant to justify his wife’s numerous attempts to seduce Joseph (Tony Lo Bianco). “I was ten when I was married to him” she explains, “and he cannot use me.” Genesis offers no such excuse for her; neither should we.

Touches of humor contribute to a sense of realism. The bargaining of Laban and Jacob is such a scene. In words, tone, and body movements, Laban is a shrewd but amusing bargainer. Without approving his shrewdness, the film provides Laban (Hershel Bernardi) with a quasi-ethical justification for giving Leah to Jacob first. The bargain, Leban reminds the irate Jacob, was that Jacob would work seven years to earn Laban’s daughter (no names mentioned), and in that country, the elder always gets married before the younger. “But the hair was the hair of Rachel!” exclaims Jacob. And then, remembering his own trickery, he shouts, “O Esau, Esau!” To placate Jacob, Laban lets him marry Rachel in return for another seven years of work. “Can I dishonor one daughter by asking less for her than I did for the other one?” asks Laban with a shrug.

The reunion between Esau and Jacob, while slightly inaccurate (no servant goes before Jacob with presents for the injured brother; instead Jacob offers him “all I have,” which Esau obligingly refuses), mixes pathos with humor. After they weep on each other’s shoulders, Jacob brings forward his wives, concubines, and eleven children (Benjamin has not yet been born). An amazed Esau asks, “Are all those yours?” When Jacob replies, “Yes,” Esau exclaims, “Little brother!” and begins hugging him again.

“The Story of Jacob and Joseph” also makes real the nomadic nature of the early Israelites. Jacob is a rich man, yet he still sleeps on hard desert ground in a tent and wears rough-woven clothing. With authenticated costumes and artifacts the film brings the viewer the sense of period, and the filming on location gives the right feeling of place (the latest Arab-Israeli conflict interrupted the production but did not force the film crew to leave the country).

Several scenes stand out among the many exceptional ones in the film: Jacob at the well with Rachel, Rachel’s agony at her barrenness (her words are taken directly from Scripture, as is Jacob’s reply), Jacob’s mourning at the tale of Joseph’s death, and Joseph’s emotion-torn blessing of Benjamin, given before the eleven brothers realize who he is. Such spots balance the weaker ones, as in the rather staged quality of Joseph’s visits to the court of Pharoah. (The formalistic scene is another unfortunate reminder of Superstar—its scene in which Jesus is brought to Pilate’s throne.)

Perhaps the best scene of the film is the last, which is understated, yet powerful. Pharoah’s words of joy for Joseph fade into the face of Jacob and his sons traveling to Egypt: “For the best of all the land of Egypt is yours.” After the trials of the last two hours the leading of the progenitors of eleven of the twelve tribes to Egypt in full blessing (Joseph was, of course, already there) shows the goodness of the Hebrews’—and our—God.

The striking portrayal of the character of the Lord God is one of the strongest features of the film. God is unseen and unheard, but certainly not unfelt. He is as real a character in the narrative as is Joseph or Jacob.

ABC should be congratulated for providing prime-time viewers with a forthright declaration that this part of Genesis is fact and not fable. And if the producer is right, “The Story of Jacob and Joseph” will be the first in a series of Screen Gems-filmed Bible narratives. We welcome the Old Testament to prime-time television and hope for similarly well done treatments of the New. The fruit is ready.

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