From Paul Federbush: “Roberta was one of the most passionate and talented professors ever to walk the halls of Tisch Graduate Film. She lived an inspiring life. She learned visual narrative story-telling from her early career as a script supervisor on Elia Kazan’s films ON THE WATERFRONT, BABYDOLL and two of my favorite films, Kazan’s A FACE IN THE CROWD and Scorcese’s KING OF COMEDY. She also wrote and directed films herself before sharing her brilliance as a tough yet devoted professor at NYU graduate film school.Roberta was quite a force to be reckoned with. She was incredibly intimidating and demanding, yet tender-hearted. She was was a dynamic professor – rigorous, engaging, and very often harsh. Roberta was not politically-correct and she made her class favorites annoyingly obvious (Nelson Hume), but through it all her brilliance shined, and shined on all of us.I was lucky enough to be assigned to class 1A, and was inspired by her brilliance which no doubt changed the course of my life. Roberta is in a large part responsible for my career in this industry, for which I would In turn thank her and blame her over the years. My classmate Jenniphr Goodman and I (both to varying degrees afflicted with first-child syndrome) bonded over the pleasing, placating, accommodating, and ameliorating that having a relationship with Roberta demanded. And I did keep in touch. In fact, over the better part of this last year, my established COVID routine had me calling Roberta several times a week. I loved her, and I know I will always feel an abiding connection to her, my classmates and our collective lives, relationships, friendships, shared experiences and memories, from film school and beyond. I am sending my deepest gratitude, and sympathies, and poignant memories.”
To Paul:I am learning about this by your post, so am hit now by sadness, but what you’ve written reveals her and is beautiful, Paul. And I’m so moved that you kept in touch more consistently than probably anyone outside of her family–you and Jenniphr I bet. For me it was a visit about every 6 months and maybe a few phone calls in between. Every time I saw her you both were very much part of the conversation, so I knew you were close to heart.I last saw her on a visit I fit in in March (luckily just before Covid), and last spoke to her about a month ago. The far-ranging conservations from crazy politics to what’s on TV, to Israel, to Hirschfeld to cats to Kazan to Brando to Peter Falk to film school memories; endless swells of consciousness came out of her unpredictably. She had a flawless memory about so much (right to the end); even about MY life. It was uncanny what she remembered, and I know this must have been true of all students she got to know well.
I think she was the most remarkable teacher I’ve ever had–remarkable because she didn’t “teach” anything directly. It was somehow by intuition. I don’t think she necessarily even had an elaborate plan about how or what to teach . She believed in instinct, and believed you should too. I told her as much once, or mentioned that, to me, she resembled a Zen master that way, the kind of slap-your-face to give you enlightenment kind of Zen master. I think she rolled her eyes, but smiled as she looked away in the middle distance and took that in. She definitely played favorites, so I don’t think everyone was able to benefit from her teaching in the same way I was lucky enough to. But since I pretty much never hit it off so well with ANY other teacher in my life (or let’s say felt that kind of connection), I really treasured Roberta’s support.
The day I met Roberta, we were invited one-by-one into her office at 721 Broadway. I sat down and she said “SO…What you are you in this for?” No hello, no niceties. “Why do you want to do this? What do you want to make films about” Very brusque, steely-eyed, yet almost bored. It kind of got my hackles up and got me on the defensive, like she was trying to convince me to quit film school before it even started. I told her. “Well. I guess I like looking at how families work (or don’t)…and… um…danger?” Phrased as a question—if I’m remembering right. I hadn’t given 2 seconds to even considering why I wanted to make film, and I therefore kind of marveled at what came out of my mouth, and was instantly and sheepishly remorseful. Why the hell did I say “danger”!? Yet she looked at me and just nodded, a barely perceptible nod of approval, and that was the extent of the interview. I next saw her in class. Craziest first meeting I’ll never forget.
I’m glad Roberta made it to my wedding upstate 22 years ago, and got to know my family, and so glad my kids got to know her just a bit through various visits with her (out to Brighton Beach when they were teeny right on up to ages 16 and 20.). As it happened, I screened “King of Comedy” for my kids a few weeks ago, and told them of the Roberta connection to that film, which made it more meaningful (I hope.). Still need to watch “On the Waterfront” with them. Saving it.Ugh. I knew Roberta couldn’t last forever, but in some sense I needed her to, so this is a big wave of sad. Loved her a lot. I hope we can properly memorialize and celebrate her life some time soon this year. It would be great to hear others’ stories in person.
