Nina Litvak on ‘Guns & Moses,’ Reinventing the Jewish Hero, and Why She Left the Studio System Behind
“Every single time you see a Jewish man on screen, he’s either dating or falling in love with a non-Jewish woman… That’s a terrible message for Jewish women and girls. And it doesn’t reflect the reality of our community at all.”
I had the pleasure of talking with Nina Litvak. Nina is an American screenwriter and digital content creator known for her work in independent film and Jewish educational media. Based in Los Angeles, Litvak has co-authored a number of feature films with her husband and creative partner, Salvador Litvak, while also co-managing the popular online platform Accidental Talmudist, which shares Jewish teachings, history, and humor with a global audience.
Raised in the SoHo neighborhood of New York City, Litvak grew up in a bohemian household shaped by the artistic pursuits of her Argentine father and American mother. Though her upbringing was secular, Litvak has described feeling a deep, if unstructured, connection to her Jewish identity from a young age. She attended Columbia University, where she earned her degree in English and first began exploring screenwriting as a career. Shortly after graduation, she relocated to Los Angeles with a completed screenplay and ambitions of breaking into Hollywood.
Early in her career, Litvak held a position as a creative executive at Disney’s Touchstone Pictures division, where she evaluated scripts and worked on studio productions. Despite the prestige of the role, she found the corporate studio system to be creatively stifling and ethically compromised. After less than two years, she left the position to pursue independent writing and filmmaking.
Litvak’s breakthrough came with When Do We Eat?, a low-budget comedy she co-wrote with Salvador Litvak. Released in 2006, the film centers on a dysfunctional Jewish family during a chaotic Passover Seder. While critically divisive — receiving both praise and harsh criticism — the film found an enduring audience and has since gained a reputation as a cult classic within certain Jewish communities. Litvak has spoken candidly about the impact of negative early reviews, including a particularly harsh response from The New York Times, but credits the experience with reshaping her priorities and deepening her Jewish spiritual journey.
Her next major project, Saving Lincoln, marked a notable departure in tone and style. Co-written with her husband, the historical drama recounts the relationship between President Abraham Lincoln and his bodyguard and best friend, Ward Hill Lamon. The film is distinguished by its use of “CineCollage,” a technique that composites live-action performances with authentic Civil War-era photographs. Though modest in budget, the film is used as part of the American history curricula in schools across the country.
Litvak and her husband continued developing original projects with Guns & Moses, an action-thriller about a rabbi who becomes an unlikely protector of his community in the wake of a violent attack. Inspired in part by real-life incidents, including the 2019 shooting at a synagogue in Poway, California, the film combines elements of suspense, faith, and community resilience. Slated for release in summer 2025, the film features a cast that includes Mark Feuerstein, Neal McDonough, Dermot Mulroney, and Christopher Lloyd.
Parallel to her filmmaking, Litvak plays a leading role in the Accidental Talmudist platform, a nonprofit initiative she co-founded with Salvador Litvak to share Jewish wisdom and culture. What began as a social media experiment has grown into a global network reaching over a million followers across more than 70 countries. Through articles, videos, and live-streamed content, the platform offers accessible teachings on the weekly Torah portion, profiles of historical Jewish figures, and discussions of contemporary spiritual themes.
Litvak also serves as co-founder of Pictures from the Fringe, a production venture aimed at developing original, character-driven stories outside the Hollywood mainstream. Her work often draws from her own spiritual evolution, as well as broader questions about identity, community, and justice. She has articulated a particular interest in portraying religious characters — especially Orthodox Jews — in more nuanced and authentic ways than typically seen in popular media.
Her personal and professional partnership with Salvador Litvak has been central to her creative output. The two met in Los Angeles in the late 1990s and began writing together soon afterward. Their collaboration is shaped by complementary strengths — Litvak focuses on character and emotional depth, while her husband often takes the lead on structure and dialogue. Together, they have chosen to operate outside of the traditional studio system, prioritizing creative autonomy over commercial scale.
Litvak has become a vocal critic of what she views as narrow and often stereotypical portrayals of Jewish life in mainstream entertainment. She has expressed concern over depictions of Jewish men as neurotic or unappealing, as well as the near-absence of strong Jewish women in romantic or heroic roles. Through both her films and digital outreach, she aims to counter these portrayals with stories that emphasize Jewish continuity, strength, and unity.
In her public commentary, Litvak often returns to the theme of accessibility — both in religious practice and in storytelling. She describes herself as someone who came to Jewish observance later in life and remains mindful of the barriers that prevent others from engaging more deeply. Her work, both online and on screen, is oriented toward bridging those gaps, particularly for Jews with little formal background or connection to religious life. While Litvak maintains an active role in media production, she emphasizes that her ultimate aim is not commercial success but cultural impact.
Yitzi: Nina, it’s a delight and an honor to meet you. Before we dive in deep, our readers would love to learn about your personal origin story. Can you share with us the story of your childhood and how you grew up?
Nina: I grew up in New York, in SoHo, and my parents were both artists. It was an unusual upbringing because there weren’t many other kids in the neighborhood and it was a very bohemian vibe. My father Jaime Davidovich, of blessed memory, was a conceptual artist and video art pioneer from Argentina. My mother Judith Henry is a multimedia artist living in Brooklyn. I inherited the artistic gene, but my medium is writing rather than visual arts. I was lucky in that my parents always encouraged my creative pursuits. They never tried to push me into a conventional career and I’m very grateful to them for that.
On my mother’s side, I’m a fourth-generation American. My family’s story is the story of so many Jewish Americans; with each successive generation, the family became more and more assimilated. I was raised completely secular. My father would go to the lower east side on Sunday mornings to get traditional kosher deli food, but that was pretty much the extent of our Jewishness. I knew that I was part of an ancient tribe and I wanted to know what that meant but I didn’t have anybody to ask. This was pre-Internet, pre-campus Chabad Houses. Most of my friends were Jewish, but nobody lit Shabbat candles or went to synagogue, there was a pervasive belief that as sophisticated, educated people, we were above all that. This is still the dominant ideology of the urban elite, that religion is for bigots and morons, and has no relevance to modern life. But I just never bought into that lie. I always believed in God, and it didn’t make sense to me that for thousands of years my ancestors were bigots and morons. So that’s where my Jewish journey really began, being Jewish and wanting to be more Jewish but not knowing how to do that.
The other thread of my story is that I’ve always been a writer. I started reading very early and spent my childhood with my nose in a book. And I always loved movies. When I was 8 years old, I was watching a movie and I noticed in the credits “written by…” and I realized, “Oh, someone writes these. I can do that!” That’s when a light bulb went off — I knew what I wanted to do with my life: write movies.
From then on, that was my single-minded goal. As a kid, I wrote short stories and watched tons of films. My favorite movie of all time is The Wizard of Oz. Back then, things were different. Every Sunday, The New York Times would print a section with the upcoming TV schedule and I would check it every week to see if The Wizard of Oz was going to air. It only played once a year, and you never knew when it would be. Now, of course, you can watch anything, anytime. But back then, it was an event. That movie, and the whole magic of storytelling, really inspired me.
I went to college at Columbia, where I studied English literature and American history. As soon as I graduated, I moved out to L.A. with my first screenplay in hand, thinking, “Okay, this is it. I wrote a script — look out, Hollywood!”
Of course, I’ve since learned that nobody’s first script is particularly good, and it’s a really tough business to succeed in — to put it mildly. I started off at the very bottom as a set PA, then worked my way up until I was hired as a creative executive at Disney. They had a movie division called Touchstone — now long defunct. Suddenly, at 26 years old, I had a fancy office, my own secretary, and an expense account. My job was to find the best scripts for our studio to produce. That meant a lot of schmoozing with agents, meeting with writers, and making sure that whatever the hot script was, it came to us.
Once we acquired a project, my role — along with other creatives — was to give notes and try to make the script better. But the truth is, it wasn’t what I really wanted to be doing. It was a great job on paper, but honestly, it was also a horrible job in many ways. Now that I’ve spent time in the Jewish world, I can really see the difference — Hollywood, especially the studio world, just doesn’t operate with good values. It was political, cutthroat, and from a creative standpoint, my job was to tell writers, “No, this isn’t how it should be,” or “Can you change this character?” I often thought, who am I to be telling these writers what to do?
In a lot of studios, people feel the need to justify their positions. So even if a writer turned in a great draft and I thought, “This is ready to go,” well, my job would seem unnecessary. So people would invent notes just to have something to say. And even though these writers were very well paid, they were often just jumping through hoops. I wasn’t proud of any of the movies I was working on.
I lasted in that job for less than two years. I realized I didn’t want to be a corporate executive, sitting in meetings, dealing with egos and hierarchies. It was the kind of environment where people would kiss up to whoever was above them and treat the people below them terribly. Assistants were yelled at, cursed at — and then those same bosses would do anything for someone higher up the chain. It just wasn’t a world with integrity.
So I left. I started doing temp work and whatever else I could to get by while I focused on my writing, because that was always the dream.
I’m not used to talking this much about myself — Sal is the professional speaker, so this is a switch for me. I’m probably all over the place. But anyway, around that time, Sal and I met. We met at a non-kosher restaurant — so we were both totally secular at that point. The curiosity I’d had about Judaism when I was younger, growing up in New York, faded once I moved to L.A. and got into the movie business. There was no part of my life that had anything to do with Judaism.
And when you work in the movie industry at a studio, your whole life is the job. You’re working 14 hour days during the week, then on Saturdays you open your front door and find a box of scripts — the “weekend read.” There was even a saying at Disney: “If you don’t show up on Sunday, don’t bother coming in on Monday.” It was a nonstop, seven-day-a-week job.
Anyway, jumping forward a bit — I was no longer working there. Sal and I met at a non-kosher restaurant on New Year’s Eve, going from 1996 into 1997. It’s kind of a funny story. I was there with a friend — just the two of us — starting the night with margaritas at this fun Mexican place before heading to a few New Year’s parties. This was back in the days before everyone had cell phones. There was a payphone in the part of the restaurant where we were sitting, and I wasn’t paying attention, but apparently Sal had been standing nearby for a while, waiting to use the phone — and eavesdropping on our conversation. Eventually, he came over and introduced himself. It was kind of a “Hello, ladies” moment. He invited us to a party up in the hills.”
He gave the address to my friend, who was married, and walked away. She said, “Oh, he really likes you” and I remember thinking, “Okay, random guy in a restaurant — whatever.” But it was New Year’s Eve, and we were already planning to hop around to a few parties. The first one wasn’t great. Then we went to the next party — and as it turned out, it was the same one Sal had invited us to.
We walked in, and Sal came running up, totally surprised. He said, “Oh my gosh, I didn’t think you’d show up!” I didn’t tell him until later that we had already planned to go to that party — it wasn’t because of his invite. It was one of those classic Hollywood parties in the hills: packed with beautiful people, huge infinity pool, super glamorous. To this day, neither of us knows whose party it actually was. We just both somehow ended up there.
We quickly realized we had a lot in common. We both came from South American families — my dad was from Argentina, and Sal is Chilean. We were both struggling screenwriters. As we got to know each other, both romantically and creatively, it just worked.
As a writer, I’m the type who’ll rewrite the first page a thousand times trying to make it perfect — which, realistically, you can’t do. Sal really balanced that out. When we started writing scripts together, our strengths ended up complementing each other. I’m all about character, we’re both good with story, and he’s stronger with structure and dialogue. We share a creative vision, and thank God — thank you, Hashem — it’s been a true partnership. I’m half a screenwriter on my own, but together, I think we’re pretty solid.
So we started writing together, and it was a very long, difficult road — full of twists and turns, ups and downs, the good, the bad, and the ugly. We started off writing a Lincoln movie because I’ve always been a lifelong Abraham Lincoln fan. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved him. Someone once gave me a book called The Wit and Wisdom of Abraham Lincoln. I remember flipping through it — it had these little illustrations along with fascinating stories and anecdotes about one of our greatest presidents.
There was one line from the Lincoln-Douglas debates that really stuck with me. Lincoln said, “My opponent has called me two-faced. If I had two faces, would I be wearing this one?” I just thought that was hilarious and I’ve been a Lincoln buff ever since. But there had never been a truly great Lincoln movie — one that really captured our 16th president leading the nation through its greatest trial and freeing the slaves. So Sal and I started talking, and we came up with some ideas.
The thing about Lincoln is, there’s just so much there — you need an angle. For example, one of the more well-known Lincoln films is Young Mr. Lincoln, which focuses on his early days as a lawyer and a young congressman. That’s great, but it’s not about Lincoln leading the nation through the Civil War. That’s the Lincoln story we wanted to tell.
Early on in our career, Sal and I made a decision. We wanted to make movies, but on our own terms, with full creative control. If you’re a writer working for a studio, you might make a ton of money, but the movie that ends up on screen is almost never the one you actually wrote.
Studios often bring in multiple writers. Even if there’s just one or two names on the credits, there are usually several uncredited writers — script doctors — who come in to polish scenes, add jokes, or change entire sections. So as a writer, you lose control of your own work.
For Sal and me, the most important thing was to be able to execute our vision — not the vision of some executive in a studio office in Burbank.
So we had this crazy idea. Who were we, really? We weren’t part of any major studio or big conglomerate that could bankroll a $200 million Civil War epic. But we were still young and optimistic, and we thought, “Let’s just write a really great Lincoln script. Then we’ll find someone to finance it and make the movie.”
We knew we needed an angle — something unique. So we came up with a concept and called it Lincoln’s Hat. The idea was that the story would follow Lincoln’s iconic top hat. The hat would appear in every scene — sometimes Lincoln would be in the scene, sometimes not — but the hat would serve as the throughline. It was a narrative device that let us explore Lincoln’s life and character in a fresh way.
We threw ourselves into the research, which I absolutely loved. I learned so much about the Civil War. We even drove across the country, visiting Civil War battlefields, Lincoln’s home in Springfield, Illinois, and other historical sites. We were committed.
We wrote the script — worked incredibly hard on it — and we were proud of what we’d created. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it felt special. I’ll never forget, we were in the car — I can’t remember exactly where we were coming from — but we had finished a draft, and our agent at the time read it and said, “This is fantastic. I’m taking it out to the studios. I really believe in it. I think this could be a great movie.”
We were thrilled. We thought, “Amazing! Everyone’s going to want this. There’s going to be a bidding war.” But — of course — right then, that very week, Steven Spielberg announced that he was doing a Lincoln movie.
And in Hollywood, Spielberg is the absolute top of the food chain. He was back then — this was almost 20 years ago — and he still is now. Once Spielberg says he’s making a Lincoln film, you’re dead in the water. That’s it. No one wanted to touch another Lincoln project. Nobody would even read our script. Lincoln was officially off the table. Spielberg had it cornered.
So we thought, okay, maybe this was unrealistic anyway — trying to make a big-budget Civil War epic. Let’s write something we can actually produce ourselves on a low budget. That way, we wouldn’t have to wait around for some studio executive to say yes or even return a phone call.
In Hollywood, it’s so much of that — trying to get people to respond, trying to get noticed. You submit a script and it just disappears into the void. You take a meeting, and it seems great, but one thing I learned early on: meetings are meaningless. So many people come out here and say, “I had a great meeting with so-and-so,” and I think, yeah… that’s not going to lead to anything.
Anyway, we decided we wanted to make a movie that didn’t require anyone else’s green light. That’s when we made our low-budget, wacky Passover comedy called When Do We Eat? As with all our movies, we wrote the script together and Sal directed and produced it. We thought it was really funny. Irreverent, yes — but with a feel-good ending. We were proud of it. We truly didn’t expect the viciousness of the critics. It was over-the-top.
The New York Times review was especially harsh. One thing we learned is that a lot of other critics look to the Times — they set the tone. So when their review came out, you could see other publications just parroting what they said. We did get a few good reviews, but that one from the Times — written by a non-Jewish critic — called the film anti-Semitic and offensive. The Washington Post, also a non-Jewish critic, said the same.
At that point, Sal and I were in the middle of our spiritual journey. We weren’t fully religious yet, but Judaism was already becoming a meaningful part of our lives. So to be observant Jews making a Jewish film, and then have someone who’s not Jewish tell us it was anti-Semitic — it was surreal. And it really hurt. Roger Ebert hated When Do We Eat? so much that he broke the cardinal rule of film reviewing and gave away an important plot twist.
It felt like public humiliation. During production, our daughter was a baby. When the movie came out, our son was a baby. So thank God I had other things going on in my life — I didn’t have all my self-worth wrapped up in being a successful screenwriter. But still, it was painful.
You wait for that New York Times review, you’re nervous but excited, counting down to when it drops… and then it just slams you. It was one of the most painful experiences I’ve ever gone through.
But the fact is, looking back, I really believe it was all from God. At the time, we didn’t understand why things were happening the way they did, but now it’s clear. If When Do We Eat? had been a big hit, we would have been in demand — studios would’ve come to us with tons of money to write Jurassic Park 7 or whatever blockbuster they were pushing. But when you’re working in that world, you can’t raise your own children. You need full-time help, you’re pulled in every direction, and you’re surrounded by values that are, frankly, upside down. So many kids grow up in broken homes or are raised by nannies, and in that environment, you inevitably start to become like the people around you.
So when that door closed, we regrouped and dove more deeply into our Jewish journey — and thank God we did. We were able to raise our kids in a warm, Jewish community, surrounded by people with good values — not Hollywood values. That shift also led us to create our Accidental Talmudist platform — our Jewish wisdom and outreach project — which really took off.
It’s something we fully control. We get to create the content we believe in, and that’s huge for me, especially coming from a totally non-religious background. I consider myself an am ha’aretz — meaning, I don’t have any formal Jewish education. And as you know, Judaism is unlike other religions. It’s not just a religion; it’s a people, a tribe, a way of life. But the religious side of it sets a very high bar for entry. If you want to join most other religions, they make it easy for you.. In Judaism, not so much.
Even if you’re born Jewish, if you didn’t grow up religious, walking into a shul can be incredibly intimidating. You don’t know what’s going on, what page we’re on, what people are doing — and no one announces it. That feeling is still very real for me. So one of the key things I’m committed to in the content we create is accessibility. I never want people to feel stupid or like Judaism isn’t for them.
That’s something Chabad and Aish and other great outreach organizations do so well — they meet people where they are. We try to do the same. Because the tragedy is, so many Jews are raised with what I call fake Judaism, and then they reject it. And I don’t blame them.
The metaphor I like to use is this: if you’ve never had sushi before, and your first experience is sushi from 7-Eleven, you’re probably going to say, “Ugh, sushi is terrible. I hate it.” But that’s not sushi. That’s a distorted version of it. And that’s what happens with Judaism. So many people are raised with something soulless, watered-down — Judaism stripped of meaning, joy, beauty — and of course they walk away from it.
That’s what happened with my own family. My mom grew up with the classic version of Reform Judaism and she hated it. And honestly, I’ve thanked her since for rejecting that. Because what she walked away from wasn’t authentic Judaism — and if she had passed that on to me, I probably would’ve rejected it too. Then I might never have discovered the richness of real Yiddishkeit.
So that’s a huge part of our mission. There’s a lot of inauthentic Judaism out there, sadly. And on a personal level, I want to make movies that uplift people and touch their hearts. On a bigger level, I feel it’s essential for those of us who are connected, who are observant, to reach out and help bring back our lost brothers and sisters. Because they truly don’t know what they’re missing.
Yitzi: You’re an amazing storyteller. That’s so inspiring. So please tell us the story behind your latest project, Guns and Moses.
Nina: Guns and Moses — I guess the germ of the idea came after a terrible shooting at a Chabad in Poway, California, a few years ago. The rabbi, Rabbi Goldstein, had his fingers shot off, and a woman named Lori Gilbert Kaye was killed. It was horrific. It happened in San Diego, not far from here. Sal went down, met the rabbi, attended the funeral — it just hit really hard. We’re not Chabad ourselves but we love the Rebbe and are blessed to have many Chabadniks in our lives, and with it happening so close to home, it was deeply personal. That was one piece of the puzzle.
Another piece was when I read the autobiography of Sholom Rubashkin — a Chabad rabbi who owned a kosher meatpacking plant in Iowa and was railroaded by a corrupt justice system and imprisoned for a long time. I think he ended up serving eight or nine years. His autobiography was incredible — his story of surviving prison, helping other inmates. I thought, “This would make a great movie.”
Sal happened to meet him and told him we wanted to make his book into a movie. Rabbi Rubashkin was into the idea. We were seriously thinking about it. But then there were some bumps in the road and we weren’t sure there was enough of an audience. For various reasons, it just didn’t seem like the right story to move forward with.
But we really liked the idea of centering a Chabad rabbi in a movie. And, combined with what happened in Poway, it sparked something. I don’t even remember exactly how it came about, but it was definitely Sal who had the idea to make the rabbi a detective.
We started building the story, and I thought it would be really interesting if this rabbi detective was actually fighting for someone who should be his enemy. In the movie, the main suspect is a young Nazi, but the rabbi is the only one who believes he’s innocent. I liked that complex relationship — two people who should be enemies, but the rabbi is committed to truth and justice. Even if someone’s not on your team, if they’re the victim of injustice, you fight for them.I loved that relationship, and the redemption arc that comes with it.
And so we jumped in and started writing it. I guess it was around the beginning of COVID. Everything takes a long time, so we wrote the script. Sal raised all the money himself — it’s a low-budget movie, and he raised every penny, which is not easy. I never thought such a big part of my life would involve asking for money. We raise money for our Accidental Talmudist nonprofit, and Sal’s always looking for investors to make and release the movie. Everyone hates getting calls asking for money, and now, being on the other side of it, I get it — it’s really hard. It’s hard to ask for donations for AT, and it’s hard to pitch for film funding.
But thank God, Sal raised the money. We got a great producing team, a great cast, and we filmed the movie at the end of 2022.
Something that was very important to me — this is kind of a personal pet peeve — is that Jewish men in movies and TV are always portrayed as nebbishy, whiny, complaining, annoying. Woody Allen has been doing that character for 50 years, Larry David’s been doing it for 20. And invariably, these whiny, annoying Jewish men never end up with Jewish women. Never. Every single time you see a Jewish man on screen, he’s either dating or falling in love with a non-Jewish woman. Right now, there’s a TV show where a Jewish rabbi falls in love with a non-Jewish woman — which is unrealistic to the point of absurdity. There’s also a new indie film about an interfaith romance.
Enough already! As a Jewish woman, I find it really insulting. The message in all this content is that we’re not good enough. Like, of course the Jewish man wouldn’t want to be with a Jewish woman when he could get a “better” non-Jewish woman. That’s a terrible message for Jewish women and girls. And it doesn’t reflect the reality of our community at all.
I’m also sick of Orthodox Jews always being portrayed as crazy fanatics — out of touch, stuck in the past, figures of mockery. The Hollywood establishment will only depict Orthodox Jews from the perspective of someone who left the community. But the reality is, in the Orthodox world, the vast majority of people don’t leave. Yet the only stories being told are from the small minority who did, often because of a bad experience. That happens, sure — but where are the stories about what’s great in the Orthodox community?
Most people in America don’t know any Jews. They may have never even met a Jew. So what do they think of when they think of Jews? They think of the nebbishy Larry Davids or the evil Harvey Weinsteins and Bernie Madoffs. Those are not the images we want out there.
It was really important to us to create a truly lovable Chabad rabbi — because that’s a realistic portrayal. They pretty much all are lovable. And we want that to be the image of the Jew in American culture — not these tired, overdone stereotypes that have nothing to do with who we really are.
Yitzi: So tell us why we have to watch it.
Nina: Why do you have to watch it? Okay, first of all, Guns & Moses is what I call a popcorn movie. It’s a fun, entertaining thrill ride. It’s not a remake or a sequel but a totally fresh and original story with fresh, original characters. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll gasp, you’ll cheer. It’s got something for everyone.
It’s about regular people who step up when their community needs them. It reflects traditional values as opposed to so many Hollywood movies that are overly explicit and vulgar. There are a lot of people looking for something more uplifting — something they can watch without feeling like they need a shower afterward.
It’s an entertaining movie with a good message. I truly believe this is a film that can bring America together. What’s interesting is, when we’ve tested it with audiences, we found that two groups — who don’t usually overlap — both really liked it: Jews, often from coastal, liberal, secular backgrounds, and Christian conservatives. Can you think of another movie that appeals to both of those audiences?
I think it’s a movie about redemption. It’s about how, when you get to know someone — maybe someone you initially dislike — you might realize you were wrong about them. In most Hollywood movies, the only people with guns are either the cops or the bad guys. But we do have a Second Amendment in this country, and sadly, we’re living in a time when people need to be able to defend themselves. More and more Jews — who would never have considered getting a gun — are starting to explore that option.
We filmed the movie in December 2022. We knew the story would always be relevant, but we had no idea what kind of world the movie would be released into. I wish it weren’t so relevant, but it is. And we think it’s important for people to know: Jews are not a soft target anymore — we fight back.
At the end of the day, you can have whatever message you want — whether it’s “this is what real Jews are like” or “Jews fight back” — but if the movie isn’t entertaining, you’ve failed. Movies have to be entertaining. This one has suspense, action, humor, twists and turns. At a time when so much of Hollywood content feels stale or out of touch with the audience, we believe this is a film everyone can get behind.
Yitzi: This is our signature question. You must have learned a lot in your experience as a screenwriter. Can you share five things you need to write a highly successful movie script?
Nina: If you want to write a successful movie script, the first thing I would ask you is: is there anything else in the world that would make you happy? Because if there is, do that. When people ask me for advice getting into the movie business, I say, is there anything else that will make you happy? Do that. Because it is really hard.
But if you’re someone who’s like, “Nope, this is who I am, and this is what I’m going to do,” then I’d say, first of all, just start writing. Your first script, your second script — probably your first five scripts — are going to be terrible. You just have to get something on paper.
The way that Sal and I work is that we hammer out every beat of the story before we start writing. You have to be able to tell the whole story to somebody. Don’t just jump in on page one until you know exactly where the script is going. So I guess number one is: don’t do it, go back home, stop. Number two: okay, you’re going to do it — figure out the whole story beforehand.
Also, know who your audience is. Don’t just write it for your own therapy. You have to make sure there’s going to be an audience who wants what you’re selling. I’d also say, don’t judge yourself too much. Don’t make the mistakes I’ve made, which is rewriting the same scene over and over again. Just keep moving forward. You might have to write a few scripts.
Another thing is, maybe get a partner or join a screenwriting group or support group. It’s very helpful to have someone to talk through things with — whether that’s your actual writing partner or just someone to bounce ideas off. Writing doesn’t really happen in a bubble. You need to understand how it’s coming across to someone else.
Write something fresh, and it’s got to be entertaining. One mistake a lot of new screenwriters make is overwriting dialogue. Their characters give big speeches. But when you read a screenplay, there should be a lot of white space on the page — not big chunks of dialogue. And in real life, people don’t say what they’re thinking. A rookie mistake is having characters say exactly what they’re thinking. No — people don’t do that. There has to be subtext.
I got a valuable piece of advice once from someone who went to the Yale School of Drama: when you’re creating a character, in every moment, in every scene, every character has to want something. You have to identify: what do they want? What’s their plan to get it? And what’s the backup plan if that doesn’t work? That’s one of the ways you build character.
For me, if you don’t have good characters — characters that are complex and real — it doesn’t matter what else you have. And I’ll add one more thing, which is something I call the “inner contradiction theory” of creating characters. A great character has an inner contradiction — something surprising about them. That’s how you avoid clichés.
For instance, in Casablanca, the Humphrey Bogart character, Rick, his whole thing is, “I do not get involved.” It’s a World War II-era movie, and he says, “I stick my neck out for no one.” But the truth is, he does get emotionally involved. He realizes he can’t stay distant. He has to take a stand. In every great movie and with every great character, there’s something contradictory about them that makes them interesting. Otherwise, you just have a cliché or a stereotype.
So, don’t give up. It’s a cliché, but it’s true. Keep writing. Keep cranking out scripts. But make sure the characters are fully developed. For every character, you need to know: who are their parents? How did they grow up? What’s their internal conflict?
Also, everybody sees themselves a certain way and thinks others see them a certain way. So for every person — or character — there are several levels: how they see themselves, how others see them, how they think others see them, how they want others to see them, and who they really are. There have to be all those levels to create a real character.
And one more thing, I hate movies with sad endings! Life is tough enough. If I’m going to spend two hours watching a movie, I want to feel good afterward.
So: happy endings, complex characters, don’t give up, and just love movies. Watch a ton of them. Read a ton of scripts.
Yitzi: Nina, because of your great work and the platform you and Sal have created, you’re a person of enormous influence. If you could put out an idea, spread an idea, or inspire a movement that would bring the most good to the most people, what would that be?
Nina: I think it would involve bringing non-affiliated Jews closer to Hashem, closer to Torah, and closer to their fellow Jews. Every frum person should regularly invite secular Jews to their Shabbos meals. Jewish unity is the solution to our problems. We need to push back against the tragedy of Jews rejecting something they don’t even know they’re rejecting. So anything I can to further that goal, that’s my mission.
Yitzi: So Nina, how can our readers watch Guns and Moses? How can they support you and your work?
Nina: Come see Guns and Moses in the theater! It’s opening nationwide this summer. We want to have a big opening weekend to show that people are ready for this kind of movie. Hollywood movies aren’t doing well these days because people don’t want what they’re selling. So show up! You’re going to love the movie, and you’ll also help send a message that people want more films with good values and authentic, likable Jewish characters.
Also, check out our Accidental Talmudist platform. We have a website, an app, Facebook, Instagram and a YouTube channel. Since Sal is so busy getting ready for the movie release, I’ve been creating most of the content lately. I do multiple posts every week on the Torah portion. We also profile forgotten heroes including many Righteous Gentiles.
So check out our content. On the nonprofit Jewish outreach side of AT, there’s something for everyone — Jewish or not. Whoever you are, you’ll find some wisdom that can enhance your life. And if you’re looking for entertainment — a movie that will make you feel good, make you think, and make you feel more connected to Jews and to humanity — see Guns and Moses, preferably on opening weekend!
Yitzi: Thank you for this amazing conversation. I wish you continued success.
Nina: Thank you so much, Yitzi. It was great talking to you!
Nina Litvak on ‘Guns & Moses,’ Reinventing the Jewish Hero, and Why She Left the Studio System… was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.