Fictional Date: ranging from 1914 (briefly) to the 1960s; primarily late ’40s to ’50s

Score:

If DINER is the series’ heart in the way it captures the comfortable charm of friendship and camaraderie, AVALON is its spiritual center. In its depiction of the strong bonds of love and tradition that carry one Jewish family through generations, AVALON shows us how the forces of progress lead to the disintegration of that family and its necessary evolution into a more decentralized, less harmonious collection of individuals with different dreams and ideals.

While some of the movie feels a bit too real and honest in its portrayal of this family, it never seems unflattering or lacking in affection for the culture that shaped Sam Krichinsky and his relatives. In fact, of all the movies in the Baltimore series, this one eerily echoes a lot of similar details from my own family’s history, suggesting that the Baltimore Jewish experience of my parents’ and grandparents’ generations was much the same from one family to another.

There are, for example, the very familiar repetitive conversations around the dinner table that review old tales told so often they have spawned accompanying jokes for the younger members of the family. The family circle meetings (every Jewish family in Baltimore must have done this) are also too real, usually degenerating into arguments while trying to establish group activities and where to give to charity for that year.

The entire family lives in one big house as all European immigrant families seemed to do. The advent of television entrances the young (they’re willing to stare at the Indian chief on the test pattern for hours) and mystifies the old. In fact, most of the family dialogue and structure is so painfully real and close to home it’s hard to watch, but definitely not in a bad way.

There’s also a strong similarity between the young men of AVALON and the tin men of the previous movie. The recurring theme about salesmen who can sell anything and just move on to other gigs returns to the philosophy of BB’s partner Moe in TIN MEN. Levinson must have had quite a few salesmen in the family.

The joyous cacaophony of a huge family around the table at Thanksgiving is slowly contrasted with the silence of a small family huddled around a tiny kitchen table years later, the small TV (a huge symbol of progress and familial disintegration here) droning away in another room as the remains of the Krichinskys eat quietly.

AVALON is about the end of one generation and the beginning of another, and with beautifully simple shots that carry us through the years, we watch as an old world sensibility gives way to a modern independence.

The Krichinskys become the Kayes and the Kirks, and old Sam Krichinsky can only watch as the world, the Baltimore, and the family that he knew vanishes before his eyes as if it never was. The poignancy of Sam’s final scene is so acutely drawn that it’s tear-inducing, but some glimmer of memory remains, suggesting that future generations may retain the knowledge of what came before even if they don’t quite understand it.

Cars: While loving shots of period cars once more play a role in AVALON, there’s no real central theme to their appearance. They’re just set dressing for the story in this case.

Music: Sam owned a piano bar once, not quite the burlesque houses of the other films, but featuring some of the same bluesy music. A lousy lounge singer turns up again, and there’s even another awkward dancing scene echoing that of Shrevie and Beth at the close of DINER.

Baltimore Geography: Plenty of Baltimore to be seen here, including some (recreated) glimpses of the turn-of-the-century city that so captivated a young Sam Krichinsky upon his arrival in America. The Bromo Seltzer tower, the Washington Monument, and the cobblestone streets of Fells Point and elsewhere show up for some time in the spotlight. The rowhouses of the late ’40s sport the faddish painted screen doors that were all the rage then, and the marble steps are as distinctive a bit of Baltimore architecture as the houses themselves. We visit Frock’s Farm (a popular getaway and site of some of my own family’s circle meetings before I was born), and we spend some time at the Druid Hill conservatory and zoo with Sam and his grandkids. The Senator Theater (right near where I work in Towson) turns up briefly, but most importantly, the single most significant Baltimore landmark in the series makes a surprise cameo. Young Michael spies construction workers lowering THE diner itself into place as he watches from the back of the car!

That Tabakin Touch: Ralph is back, this time as the straight-laced principal who finds Michael outside his classroom, having been put in the hall to contemplate the nuances (heh heh) of the difference between “may” and “can.” When Sam arrives to defend his grandson, the back and forth between the unwavering Tabakin and Mueller-Stahl’s English-challenged Krichinsky verges on becoming a linguistic version of the “Who’s on First?” routine.

Next: We wrap it up with a look at LIBERTY HEIGHTS.

ATB