Q2 2026

Emirates Stadium

May '26, North London (photo via Google Images)

To those who are receiving Noah’s Culture Quarterly (NCQ) for the first time: welcome. This newsletter keeps you updated on my creative projects and recommends entertainment worth your time.

Due to an event invite and producing duties, we did not send a full NCQ last quarter. So, a thick one for you today, including: a premiere recap, sunshine flick, summer read, and Premier League wrap-up. 

Nobody film cast + crew
Bryn Mawr Film Institute, March '26 (Credit: Tracie van Auken)

First, I want to thank those of you who attended the premiere of my short film, Nobody, at Bryn Mawr Film Institute in March. Getting to show my work in front of such a terrific crowd is a privilege that I don’t take for granted; each opportunity is a gift. You made that evening the success that it was. Thank you. 

Please head over to my website for behind-the-scenes and premiere photos if you missed the show or couldn’t stay for the reception. Photographer Tracie van Auken captured the evening for us with typical aplomb. (We have Tracie to thank for most of the photos on my website.)

To the unbelievable cast and crew who, despite my best attempts, actually made the film: I am so grateful to have worked with you. I hope we get to do so again.

Our host institution, Bryn Mawr Film Institute, could not have been more accommodating and gracious.

The gentlemen at Star of David kosher restaurant came through with a terrific, catered Middle Eastern cuisine, as they always do.

The premiere of Nobody marked the conclusion of a 13-month sprint for me, beginning with planning and executing a comedy and theatre showcase at the Arden Theatre in Old City last year.

Documentary film producer and friend of the family, Frank Petka, saw my short play Har Jehuda at the Arden. Frank introduced me to Pat Taggart, filmmaker and founder of SkyBlue Creative, who helped me turn Har Jehuda into the film Nobody.

I’m lucky to know Frank and Pat. They made Nobody possible.

As I turn to film festival submissions, I think we’ve entered a new era here at NCQ.

I’m grateful that you are along for the ride.

Palm Springs

Photo via IMDB

Robbed of its proper theatrical release due to covid restrictions, the romantic comedy Palm Springs remains one of the most successful film launches in Hulu’s history. Understandably so.

Our two main players are Nyles, a cynical, carefree slacker portrayed by the charming Andy Samberg, and Sarah, the sharp-tongued and chaotic bride's older sister, well-played by Cristin Milioti. Stranded together in a day destined to repeat infinitely, these two strangers are forced to choose between the safety of endless comfort and the uncertainty of risking failure to live the unknown.

This installment of the classic time-loop genre delivers plenty of laughs while offering fresh takes on existential questions, nihilism, and agency against a backdrop of a desert wedding.

Shoutout to JK Simmons, who turns in a hilarious performance as Roy, a vengeful wedding guest with an axe to grind.

A perfect summer watch.

Highest of recommends. 

Breathless by Dean Koontz

photo via Google Images

It was a happy accident, picking up Dean Koontz's 2019 novel Breathless. July 4th, 2025. The air thick and chewy with heat, laced with pollen, tinged with manure — noticeably absent of urban smog. Lancaster.

My son Hugh, five months old, had not yet mastered sleep. Alone, he produced 25-minute naps. Cradled by a family member, he could go two hours or more.

Preparing for duty, I scoured my in-laws' home for reading material. Under the coffee table, I spotted it — a glittering yellow hardcover. The yawns and whines were flowing freely by this point. I swiped the book, slipped the little man into his sleep sack, and settled into a second-floor bedroom.

Thankfully, I’d plucked an interesting one. 

Breathless is a sci-fi and spiritual thriller anchored by Grady Adams, a military veteran turned carpenter whose quiet mountain life is upended by the appearance of two extraordinary, unclassifiable creatures.

Brisk chapters and multiple storylines propel forward a debate between evolutionary and intelligent design.

Online critics blast Koontz's grasp of science and plotting; so what? I devoured it with Hughey snoozing by my side.

Reccomended for a quick, engaging read, without fussing over the details.

Schoenberg men

May '26, North Broad

The Arsenal have won the Premier League for the first time since 2004. This is a major event in my life. Not just mine. Hughey’s also.

At 16 months old, the micro man has already seen the Eagles win a Super Bowl and now Arsenal capture a domestic title -- a feat that has taken other living fans of both teams 28 years to achieve.

When I told Hugh how lucky he is, he replied: “ball.”

That's some front office potential.

But overlap between The Arsenal and The Eagles does not stop there.

The scenes of Gooners pouring wildly into the streets and celebrating outside Arsenal’s stadium in 2026 echoed Eagles fans doing the same on Broad Street in 2018. I was one of those Philadelphians. 

(One key difference between the victory celebrations: as far as I can tell, there have been no football-related casualties in North London.)

On that remarkable night when the Birds finally lifted the Lombardi, I watched the game at the now deceased Irish Pub in Center City, having secured a banquet table at 8:00am for a 6:30pm kickoff. It was a trying day.

I’d arrived when Irish Pub opened and would be staking the territory alone until my comrades arrived — but at least, I figured, I’d enjoy three windows of Premier League action: 7:30am, 10:00am, 12:30pm.

How naïve I was.

The barman refused to put any of the games on because, as Plato once said, “Dude, Birds."

“Are not on for 10 hours”, I noted.

On we went like this, my counterpoints growing more vigorous.

Eventually, fearing expulsion and failure at 8:09 am, I slunk back to my 12-person table, where I broke out the monopoly board and engaged in a four-way battle against myself. The contest ended in stalemate.

That day, I endured 10 hours of Super Bowl pre-game punditry.

We all contributed to the title.

Life has changed for Colleen and I since Nick Foles rose to the occasion. 

When Arsenal were crowned champions last week, I was feeding Hugh a pouch as we watched the fleeting moments of the deciding match on my phone.

As the final whistle blew, I squeezed out the last drop of applesauce for Hughey. He then lifted his little arms and declared: “All done.”

Yes, my son. It’s all done.

Arsenal are champions of the Premier League for first time in 22 years.

And for you, Hugh, a lifetime of football fandom joy, agony, and glory, has just begun.

North London Forever.

A few weeks ago, Jews around the world celebrated the holiday of Shavuot, which commemorates when Moses received the Torah from G-d at Mt. Sinai. A biggie.

On Shavuot, it’s traditional to gather and study Torah overnight. For a couple of years, I planned and executed a 300-person Shavuot program at the Weitzman Museum.

I'm glad I don't anymore, but I’m thankful for the experience and the people I met through it.

This year on Shavuot, I read (a little) Torah and thought a lot about The Arsenal.

I can’t say for certain that, in addition to the Torah, G-d gave us football. But He might have.

He definitely gave us Leo Messi.

Messi is very likely playing in his final World Cup, which is taking place this summer in North America.

If you can, tune in to watch him.

It might be your last chance to see the genius in an Argentina kit. 

If you’d like to send me comments or your own recommendations, please do so through my website.

I encourage you to forward this newsletter to anyone you think may be interested; they can sign up for NCQ via: subscribe.

Until the fall, my friends. 

June 6 is D-Day, the date when U.S. and Allied troops began landing on the beaches of Normandy in 1944.

I’m reminded of Mr. Gross, of blessed memory, who crawled onto one of those beaches the first night of the Allied invasion to recapture Europe. He is the very definition of a hero.

I know of Mr. Gross through his son, Billy, who is the executive producer of my film Nobody.

Yolanthe Schoenberg, my grandmother, recounted for me seeing the silver reflections of U.S. airplanes flying overhead and dropping bombs in and around Bucharest, where she lived during the war. 

Billy Gross and I are linked by more than film, because of his dad’s extraordinary bravery and my grandmother’s determination to leave Europe after the war and begin again in America.