Couched in the past: ''Divan'' filmmaker leaves Chassidic world to discover herself

Once upon a time, a young girl with the unorthodox urge to discover and impact the world beyond her Brooklyn Chassidic community adopted Barbra Streisand's activist character in "The Way We Were" as a role model.

In her irreverent first-person documentary, "Divan," the grownup Pearl Gluck uses a clip from the Streisand film to illustrate the period in her life when she first realized that Chassidic life was too confining for her curiosity and ambitions.

By the end of this fast-paced and deftly constructed film, it's apparent that Gluck has more in common with the actress than frizzy curls. She also has la Streisand's chutzpah, as well as a little bit of the control freak.

"Divan," which played the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival last year, opens Friday, Aug. 13, for a one-week run

at the Opera Plaza Cinemas in San Francisco and the Act 1 & 2 in Berkeley.

A modern and welcome spin on the Jewish roots documentary, "Divan" employs wall-to-wall music that stretches beyond traditional Chassidic songs and up-tempo klezmer riffs to fuzz-toned electric guitar. Unfortunately, it's often mixed so loud that it submerges the dialogue or narration.

The center of Gluck's movie is the ancient family divan, the couch upon which — legend has it — several great rebbes chanced to sleep long ago in the Old Country.

Awarded a Fulbright grant to spend a year in Hungary compiling Yiddish oral histories, the twentysomething Gluck devotes part of her trip to tracking down (and, hopefully, bringing home) the oversize relic.

That entails bestowing kosher chocolate and other gifts on the cousin who's in possession of the divan. In turn, he takes her on a fascinating road trip to her great-great-grandfather's padlocked small-town house where the object of her obsession has resided for decades.

The couch, of course, is a metaphor for the filmmaker's roots and identity, and a device through which she connects the past with the present. Since she left the Chassidic fold more than a decade ago — the young Pearl went with her mother after "the miracle of my parents' divorce" — Dad has never fully understood nor accepted her secular pursuits.

The treasure hunt for the divan is as compelling as any good story, but it intentionally lacks the tension of a great mystery. Woven through the film is a Greek chorus of witty and warm friends and artists who also left the strictures of Chassidic life — all interviewed after Gluck's journey, sitting on the divan in her apartment.

Their recurring theme isn't rejection of Judaism or family, but of the need for independence to achieve self-fulfillment. Even the limited tolerance of fundamentalist Jews isn't a target of criticism.

In a film full of wry digs, Gluck takes pains not to make Chassidism the butt of anything other than the gentlest jibes. Indeed, she respectfully acknowledges the power that comes from ritual and tradition.

"In today's world, everyone's looking for their roots," says a Brooklyn Chassid on a pilgrimage to pray at a rebbe's grave in Hungary. "We know our roots."

The Chassidim, including her father, aren't so accepting of Gluck's lifestyle. When Pearl visits Borough Park for family dinners, the talk is about her returning to Chassidim and taking a husband.

While the warmth between father and daughter that gradually emerges in "Divan" feels genuine, Gluck's interludes on the subject of marriage seem contrived. I half-expected her to include a snippet from another '70s movie (with Jewish actress Jill Clayburgh), "An Unmarried Woman."

One's enjoyment of "Divan," which even at a brisk 77 minutes feels a tad stretched out, depends to a degree on how much one likes Gluck. She narrates in a cutesy, fifth-grade-teacher voice, which seems condescending once you catch on to just how assertive and clever she is in real life.

And if Gluck's crafty intelligence has somehow eluded you to that point, the nifty ending cinches the case with a twist that Barbra would admire.