June Zero: Israel, 1962

During Adolf Eichmann's trial, Israel mandated that only Sephardic Jews could serve as his prison guards, because his victims were overwhelmingly Ashkenazi. Originally indigenous to the Middle East, North Africa, and the Mediterranean, anti-Semitic protestors regular deny the very existence of the Sephardic Jews. “Go back to Poland” is a hateful threat directed at Jewish students you often heard screamed on college campuses in recent weeks. Given the alarming rise in hate crimes targeting Jews, like last weekend’s violent attack on a Los Angeles synagogue, Jake Paltrow’s June Zero resonates differently than when it started its festival screenings. A young Sephardic boy experiences a unique vantage point on history in June Zero, which opens today in New York.

David Saada has mild klepto impulses, so his father decides to scare him straight with a part-time job in the factory owned and operated by Schlomi Zebco, a still-feared former anti-British Zionist revolutionary. Zebco does not owe his father anything, but he sees some possible use for the scrappy kid. He happens to have a big job coming in that will require small hands and an understanding of mechanics.

Zebco has been hired by the state to create a crematorium for Eichmann. They intend to cremate him, so his grave could not become a pilgrimage site for Ivy League faculty members. (They were really thinking of Nazi thugs, but here in 2024, they are largely one and the same). In a supreme irony, they provie vintage schematics from Topf and Sons, the German engineering firm that had a lion’s share of the concentration camp contracts and was later nationalized by the East German Communist regime.

The job came to Zebco through an old crony, Haim Gori, a Moroccan Israeli overseeing Eichmann’s prison detail. Despite being Sephardic, Gori is horrified by his prisoner, but also mindful of his responsibility. Frankly, the section focusing on Gori bears some similarity to horror films, because the unseen Eichmann seems to disturb his jailers in ways comparable to a Hannibal Lecter or Michael Meyers. Yet, Paltrow never shows the monster directly, using clever framing akin to that of Michael Jordan in Air, to prevent humanizing him to any extent. Instead, he is pure bogeyman.

The intertwined narrative strand focuses on Micha Aaronson, a member of the prosecution, who is now giving a guided tour of the Warsaw Ghetto, where he barely a savage flogging. There seems to be a mutual attraction percolating between him and Ada from the local consulate, but they also have very different perspectives on Israel should express its collective memories of the Holocaust.

This is an important segment, because it reminds viewers Israelis are not monolithic. They debate and disagree, just like other nations. However, it is also important for viewers to remember, with their post-10/7 hindsight, all Jews (Israeli or not) will be treated alike by Jew-hating terrorists, who happily murdered Israeli peace-activists at Be-eri.

Indeed, there are powerful scenes in each section of June Zero (a reference to the tabloid that opted not to date its Eichmann execution issue). Weirdly, the film might have been even more successful if it was a more sharply defined triptych, with characters only crossing over to maintain a sense of continuity.

NYJFF ’23: Exodus 91

In late 1984, the IDF, the Mossad, and the CIA commenced one of greatest humanitarian rescue operations in history, evacuating thousands of Falasha Ethiopian Jews (the Beta Israel) to safety. Operation Joshua was the smaller sequel that soon followed. When the Marxist Mengistu regime lost its Soviet sponsor, a window of opportunity opened for an even larger but less covert operation. Israeli Ambassador Asher Naim was the man appointed to manage the risky negotiations. The heroic efforts of Naim and his colleagues to execute Operation Solomon are chronicled in Micah Smith’s documentary Exodus 91, which screens during the 2023 New York Jewish Film Festival.

The attempted assassination of Ambassador Meir Joffe, depicted in the film’s shocking first scene, created the vacancy Naim filled. He had just returned from a stressful posting in Finland, which at the time was a home for Soviet Refuseniks seeking asylum in Israel. He would be doing similar work in Ethiopia, but on a much greater scale, in a hostile country.

Combining archival video and dramatic recreations, Smith nicely conveys the chaos of the period. The rebels were closing in on the capitol, so thousands of Ethiopian Jews flocked to the Israeli embassy, living in squalid make-shift camps on the surrounding grounds. Disease ran rampant, but the embassy still encouraged more to come, suspecting an opportunity for a large-scale evacuation might arise suddenly and close quickly.

The most intriguing figure who emerges from the film is probably Kassa Kabede, an Israeli-educated Mengistu loyalist, who is appointed the regime’s point person on Jewish immigration issues. In addition to Shai Fredo’s portrayal in recreations, Kabede himself sat for on-camera interviews, shortly before his death. He is definitely a complicated, ambiguous figure. However, Fredo proves you can still do serious acting in docu-re-enactments, especially his final negotiation with Naim wherein he discusses his school days in Jerusalem.

Unfortunately, Naim died before production started, so his brother portrays him in contemporary interview segments. Docu-purists and Israel haters might object to this choice, but at least it is clearly identified as such during the film (unlike the controversial Tony Bourdain voiceovers, for instance). Clearly, there is no intention to fool anyone, because Smith frequently pulls his camera back at the close of re-enactments, to reveal the behind-the-scenes cameras and back-drops.

That also adds a strange hyper-real vibe to Exodus 91 that can be a bit distracting, but also makes it quite stylistically distinctive. Erez Aviram’s score (featuring Israeli jazz musician Eden Bareket on sax) also adds sophisticated and evocative textures. Most importantly, the film tells a remarkable story.

Black Notebooks: Ronit

If you have only seen the very top Israeli films to reach American distribution deals over the last twenty-five years, you will probably still recognize the late Ronit Elkabetz. She starred in The Band’s Visit, Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amasalem, and Late Marriage. She also happened to be the daughter of Jewish Arab parents (originally from Morocco), so her prominence challenged stereotypes both inside and outside Israel. Her greatest collaborator was her brother Schlomi, with whom she co-wrote and co-directed the Viviane Amasalem trilogy. The surviving Elkabetz sibling pays tribute to his sister and documents the final years of her life in Black Notebooks: Ronit, which opens today in Los Angeles.

When watching the extensive behind the scenes footage of Gett, representing about a full third of Elkabetz’s documentary, viewers might be tempted to draw a casual relationship between his sister’s exhaustingly intense performance and the lung cancer she ultimately succumbed to, two years after the film’s release. Frankly, Gett so dominates the documentary, viewers who have not seen it might be confused by the Kafkaesque scenes that unfold.

Although Israel is in many ways the model of a progressive legal system, divorces remain the jurisdiction of antiquated rabbinical courts, regardless of petitioners’ religion. Gett was very definitely a passionate protest against that system.

Very little of Elkabetz’s other work is incorporated into the doc, which is a shame, considering how wonderfully luminous she is in The Band’s Visit. However, we see her as she really was. Her brother was perfectly positioned to document her, since they shared a Parisian flat together, when not supporting Gett’s tour of the film festival circuit, including Cannes.

King Bibi, on Chai Flicks

From the standpoint of his nation’s security, Benjamin “Bibi” Netanyahu is probably the most successful world leader of the 21^st Century, so far. During his recent tenure, the so-called “Iranian Nuclear Deal” was nullified, the US finally moved our embay to Jerusalem, and several Arab states formally recognized the State of Israel through the Abraham Accords. Arguably, the last comparable Israeli Prime Minister would be Menachem Begin. Yet, throughout his non-consecutive terms in office, Netanyahu contended with a highly critical press corps. Dan Shadur chronicles Netanyahu’s life and political career in King Bibi, which premieres today on Chai Flicks.

To understand Netanyahu, you rather logically need to start with his family. His father was a conservative scholar who was essentially forced to seek employment in America, by Israel’s socialist establishment. His brother Yoni was the heroic IDF commander, who died during the successful rescue mission in Entebbe. His brother’s death was the catalyst for his leadership in the study of terrorism prevention, which also brought him to prominence in America too.

Yet, Netanyahu still endured long periods of Churchillian wilderness-style political ostracism. His peace-through-strength policies were definitely out of step during the euphoria of the Oslo Accords. However, he was ready when reality set in, even if the traditional Israeli was not.

Nesher’s Image of Victory, on Netflix

For the Israelis, the Battle of Nitzanim was their greatest loss during their victorious War of Independence. For the Egyptians, it was a tactically meaningless victory, but it was carefully documented by a newsreel crew, to distract from the sting of losing the war. Despite their differences, both losses brought great national trauma. The battle and its surrounding circumstances are vividly brought to life in Avi Nesher’s Image of Victory, which starts streaming tomorrow on Netflix.

Residents of the Nitzanim kibbutz are keenly aware of its precarious location, so they constantly petition the military for greater defenses. Of course, such resources will be stretched thin after the Declaration of 1948. Both the residents and the garrisoned military personnel are about as rag-tag as it got in Israel’s early days. Many among the Defense Force had recently enlisted their way out of prison, joining several Holocaust survivors, both within their ranks and living at the kibbutz.

Mira Ben-Ari is the free-spirit of Nitzanim, but the European émigré is also a true believer in the kibbutz system. She has control of Nitzanim’s sole radio, so when Avraham Schwarzstein, the garrison commander, wants to run an operation, he has to take her with him. However, she can shoot.

Literally yards away, virulently anti-Semitic (CUNY calls it “anti-Zionism”) Egyptian journalist Mohamed Hassanein Heikal is embedded in a hostile Arab village, first with a squad of volunteer militia, and then with the official Egyptian army, once it declares war. The real army could take Nitzanim at any time, but such small potatoes are not worth their time and resources—until it becomes clear Egypt will lose this war—embarrassingly badly. King Farouk demands a “victory” Hassanein’s crew can package into face-saving propaganda for the Egyptian public. That was Nitzanim, but something about the way Ben-Ari conducted herself defending her home haunts Hassanein up until the in media res opening, set during the Camp David Accords.

Image is not unjustly described as an “anti-war” film, but it is somewhat unusual in that it critiques the war from both Israeli and Egyptian standpoints. Arab supremacists like Hassanein clearly wanted to pursue war to prosecute their prejudices, regardless of the human costs. Similarly, some of the Israeli hardliners (often “political officers” modeled on their Soviet counterparts) were too willing to sacrifice isolated settlers, like the Nitzanim kibbutzers, for “the greater good.”

Golden Voices: Refusenik Cineastes

Some call it an artform, even though most cineastes can’t stand the practice. Nevertheless, Victor and Raya Frenkel enjoyed a small sliver of prestige as the top film dubbers in the bad old Soviet Union. They were also Jewish, so their positions were always a little complicated. When the Soviets finally allowed the Refuseniks to immigrate to Israel, they decided to get out while the getting was good. However, adjusting to a new country and a new way of life will be more difficult than they expected in Evgeny Ruman’s Golden Voices, which opens tomorrow in New York.

For many Soviets, the Frenkels were the voices of international films in Russia. However, Russian dubbing is not an obviously marketable skill in 1990 Israel. Yet, due to the large influx of Russian immigrants, Raya manages to find a job requiring Russian fluency. She tells her husband she is tele-marketing. Her boss considers it phone sex, but they way she practices it, she is more like a voice in a chatroom for lonely men like Gera.

Meanwhile, her husband finally thinks he has found an outlet for his talents with a couple of low-rent Russian film pirates, but they just don’t have his commitment to quality cinema. As they try to go about their new lives, Israeli society keeps on rolling, while preparing for potential chemical weapons attacks from Saddam Hussein.

That part was no joke. If you lived through the lead-up to the first Gulf War, you should recall how George H.W. Bush insisted Israel not retaliate against any potential Iraqi attacks, so as not to jeopardize his international coalition. One can only imagine how intense the atmosphere was in Israel, but Ruman and co-screenwriter Zev Berkovich do a pretty good conveying the vibe.

Although it is billed as a comedy, Golden Voices is thoroughly bittersweet in tone and generally much more serious than whimsical. Mariya Belkina gives an extraordinarily accomplished performance as Raya, especially in her acutely sad and sensitive scenes with Alexander Senderovich, who is also a standout as the nebbish Gera. Vladimir Friedman is achingly dignified as Victor Frenkel, but there is also more than a little sentimentality in his ardent movie love.

Happy Times, from Israel

You're invited to a dinner party. They are serving hot death and cold bile on the menu. It starts as a social gathering and turns into a frenzy of murder. That might sound unlikely, but it all goes down in Brentwood, O.J.’s old neighborhood, so maybe it sort of makes sense. Regardless, you better steel yourself for a little bloodshed in Michael Mayer’s Happy Times, which releases this Tuesday on VOD and DVD.

Dodgy Yossi is much richer than the rest of his guests and he is not about to let them forget it. It is why his trophy wife Sigal puts up with him. The Israeli ex-pats are hosting Michael, a resentful actor not making it in LA and his awkwardly not Jewish girlfriend, Aliyah, as well as snobby tech executive Avner, who still suffers from service-related PTSD and his neurotic wife, Hila. They will also be joined by divorced contractor Ilan, whose business depends on Yossi’s meager patronage and his New Agey girlfriend Noya, as well as Maor, Yossi’s young employee, who rather unsubtly carries a torch for Sigal. Plus, their Rabbi will eventually roll in to collect the couple’s latest reluctant donation.

Alcohol and [un]controlled substances will exacerbate pre-existing tensions and instant dislikes. Initially, the violence is accidental, but it quickly and deliberately escalates. Unfortunately, Sigal and Yossi’s house could serve as the set for a revival of Ira Levin’s Deathtrap, because there are all kinds of antique firearms, crossbows, and gold old fashion carving knives lying around, just waiting to be put to ill-use.

Happy Times is not for the faint of heart, but if you do not mind a little gore, it is wickedly amusing. The film will inevitably be categorized as horror, due to the volume of blood and the mounting body count, but it is really just a dark comedy—real dark. Yet, Mayer is a master at pulling off each successively over-the-top one-darned-thing-after-another.

Oxford Virtual ’20: Army of Lovers in the Holy Land

Tel Aviv is home to one of the largest Pride celebrations outside of the West and is widely recognized as one of the most LGBTQ-friendly destination cities in the world. It also happens to be in Israel. All of these reasons make the Mediterranean city feel like home to Jean-Pierre Barda. Documentarian Asaf Galay follows the “lead vocalist” of Swedish disco-dance band Army of Lovers as he makes Aliyah and happily settles in Israel during the relatively short (just over an hour) but entertaining film Army of Lovers in the Holy Land, which screens during the Oxford Virtual Film Festival.

Barda and his Army of Lovers bandmates Alexander Bard (the founder) and Dominika Peczynski are the first to gleefully admit they do not play instruments and never really even performed their own vocals. For them, the band is really about dramatic stagecraft, elaborate (and risqué) costumes, and fab hair and makeup. The latter was also Barda’s responsibility. For a while, the band was positioned as the natural successors to ABBA and they nearly reached that level of popularity in Continental Europe (but fell considerably shorter in the US and UK).

Raised in Sweden by his naturalized French-Algerian parents, Barda initially held conflicted attitudes towards his Jewish faith and heritage. However, an Israeli tour provided a new, positive context to relate to his Jewishness. He seemed like he was “home,” so he stayed.

Eran Riklis’s Shelter

It is impossible to claim the civilized world is winning the war on terrorism when Hezbollah is part of Lebanon’s ruling coalition. Frankly, most of the West now follows the “Obama Doctrine:” go easy on Hezbollah to curry favor with their Iranian masters. Israel still fights the good fight and it will continue to protect those who fought with them. Mona is a particularly sensitive example. As the ex-mistress of a high-ranking Hezbollah terrorist/Lebanese government official, she provided extensive intelligence to the Mossad. When she was exposed, her handlers smuggled her out of the country and into a Hamburg safe house. It will be Naomi’s task to protect her while she recovers from plastic surgery, but her assignment will be considerably more dangerous than promised in Eran Riklis’s Shelter (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

This will be Naomi’s first field work since a devastating personal tragedy caused her to take an extended leave of absence. It is supposed to be an easy way to get back into action, so initially, she is not even supplied a gun. It will be her job to masquerade as a nurse, tending to the bandaged Mona while she recuperates from plastic surgery. Eventually, she will be resettled into a new life, with a new identity. Yet, there are things Mona has trouble letting go, like the son still held in the custody of her very former lover, Naim Quassem.

Of course, there is friction between the two women at first, but respect and eventually friendship slowly but steadily develops between them. Not surprisingly, it turns out Quassem still holds a grudge against Mona. Quelle surprise. As Mona bonds with her charge, her instincts become hyper-aware of the danger swirling around them.

If you want to understand why the Mossad is the most successful intelligence agency in the world, watch Shelter. They protect their assets instead of burning them. In contrast, the German BND comes off looking pretty bad and it is rather clear our agencies would not have acted much differently. Riklis’s handling of Mona’s motivation for working with the Israelis is also smart and satisfying—it is deeply complex, yet profoundly simple.

It should be noted Riklis has bent over backwards to be sensitive to the circumstances of Arab Israeli women (who chose to political identify with the era of the British Mandate of “Palestine”) in previous films, such as The Lemon Tree. Indeed, empathizing with a strong Middle Eastern woman like Mona necessarily involves a critical rejection of militant terrorists like Hezbollah.

Israeli Neta Riskin and the Iranian-born, Paris-based Golshifteh Farahani (who has obviously given up all hope of returning home until there is a decisive regime change) are quite extraordinary together. Riskin is icily reserved, but clearly conveys how wounded and vulnerable Naomi is inside. Frankly, Farahani’s performance is genuinely brave in many ways. Arguably, she is just as fragile (if not more so), yet she vamps up the silk robe and surgical bandages better than even Bette Davis could have in her prime.

With its main characters confined to the claustrophobic flat, Shelter definitely shares a kinship with the classic films of Hitchcock and Polanski, but it engages with wider geopolitical issues. Frustratingly, it is likely to be overshadowed by Brad Anderson’s Beirut, but it is a vastly superior film. In fact, it is the best espionage-counter-terrorism film of the year thus far, and Riklis’s best since The Human Resources Manager. Very highly recommended, Shelter opens this Friday (4/6) in LA, at the Laemmle Town Center 5, Monica Film Center, and Ahrya Fine Arts.

Samuel Maoz’s Foxtrot

Let’s be frank, the so-called BDS movement is anti-Semitic, through and through. Its real goal is to weaken the State of Israel, so that it can be easily toppled by its neighbors, who resent its progressive policies of LGBT rights, equality for women, religious liberty, and environmental protection. Predictably, the Israeli Film Festival in Paris was on the receiving end of BDS calls to boycott, but this year it was also shunned by Israel’s culture minister, for its choice of opening night selection. It is an odd spot for the festival to find itself in and it is all over a scene that probably doesn’t need to be in the film in question. It is so rife with controversy, it will be hard for many to dispassionately consider all aspects of the film (but that is what we are here for) when Samuel Maoz’s Foxtrot opens this Friday in New York.

It is clear IDF bereavement officers have done this grim task many times before by the smoothness of their response when Daphna Feldmann collapses at the door. Her husband Michael is conscious, but nearly in clinical shock at the news of their son Jonathan’s death. While his wife sleeps under sedation, he goes about the grim business of making notifications, almost out of misplaced passive aggressive anger. And then there is the first of two closely-related game-changing revelations.

Maoz than rewinds to show what transpired over the last few days at the sleepy check-point Jonathan had been stationed at. Discipline is so slack among these bored young enlisted men, they make the characters of Zero Motivation look like crack commandos. However, something will happen.

In the case of Foxtrot, the tri-part structure actually makes organic sense. However, the scenes with Jonathan in the desert have nothing like the power and intensity of the bookends featuring his grieving parents. Yet, that is where all the controversy lies, because some object to its depiction of a wrongful border shooting that the top brass subsequently cover-up. Granted, Maoz is playing with notions of fate and karma, very much in the tradition of Greek classical tragedy, but there could have been other ways to ironically tempt destiny without handing ammunition to Israel’s haters. In fact, the overlong mid-section is the weakest link, in terms of narrative and drama.

On the other hand, Lior Ashkenazi gives an achingly arresting performance as the anguished Feldmann father. He has a lot of fire and fury in the first act, but the quiet resignation of the third act will be what gets most viewers. There is something acutely poignant about the way he can sit and calmly talk with Sarah Adler’s Daphna Feldmann, even after everything that has transpired between them. They most definitely deliver awards caliber work, with the third act sealing the deal.

Maoz has served up some of the most incisive cinematic critiques of Israel’s militarized mentality, but you would think he would also inclined to criticize the violent ideological extremism they face as well, given the Foxtrot was initially inspired by his family’s tangential brush with terrorism. Apparently, his eldest daughter was in the habit of asking for cab fare when she was running late for high school, so one morning, to make a point, he forced her to take the bus. Tragically, a terrorist blew himself up on the #5 line she should have been on, but he learned twenty-some minutes later, she was late for it as well. Yes, fate plays a role when the threat of terror is a constant presence.

Divorcing Foxtrot from the current political context surrounding it is a tricky proposition, but it is worth doing, to appreciate the visceral power of Ashkenazi and Adler. What matters about this film is the painfully true to life family drama, not the fictionalized events that did not happen in an unsupervised border crossing. Recommended on those terms, Foxtrot opens this Friday (3/2) in New York, at the Angelika Film Center.

Philip K. Dick ’18: Niggun (short)

It is fitting that we finally officially recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel. After all, it is a city that captures the imagination and it endures all attempts at destruction. In the far future, it will be about all that is left of the fabled planet Earth in Yoni Salmon’s animated short film, Niggun (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Philip K. Dick Film Festival.

The Rabbi and the Archaeologist believe they deduced the location of the mythical Earth from a series of esoteric clues, but they are alarmed when the smallish blue planet does not appear where it should. As they get closer, they find clusters of fragments held together by gravity. The largest asteroid holds the well-preserved remains of what resembles the capital city of Jerusalem. At first, they are disappointed, but there is still much to see. However, it is not quite as lifeless as it initially looks.

Niggun is a strangely rewarding film, because it gives off a whimsical vibe, but evokes a deeper, sadder sense of wisdom and enlightenment. Frankly, it is hard not to be moved by the site of Israel in ruins—still standing as all that really remains intact of Earth.

Salmon’s animation is also quite droll, incorporating hat-tips to Star Trek and Planet of the Apes (with the Statue of Liberty’s torch). The result is a cool and surprisingly successful attempt to reconcile the sacred with the profane and the spiritual with the slapstick. Highly recommended, Niggun screens this Sunday (2/25) as part of programming Block Ten: International Animation/Fantasy, at this year’s Philip K. Dick Film Festival.

NYJFF ’18: The Red House (short)

Louis Sullivan famously wrote: “form follows function” and that was originally true of Łodzia House in Tel Aviv. It looks like an Old World factory plopped down in the outskirts of the city, because that is exactly what it was. Tamar Tal Anati chronicles its history and cultural significance in the short documentary, The Red House (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 New York Jewish Film Festival.

The building at 43 Nahmani Street was originally constructed as a hosiery factory in 1924 by a recently immigrated Zionist. Alas, stockings were not in such high demand during the pre-founding days of Israel. Eventually, they sold out and the business relocated, leaving the building vacant, until it was repurposed as a synagogue. Apparently, it was not a particularly comfortable synagogue, but the unruly neighborhood kids enjoyed playing on its tenement-style external staircases.

The buildings glory days logically came in the 1980s, back when everything was great. A handful of artists turned it into Tel Aviv’s first New York-style loft-scene gallery-complex, which immediately captured the attention of Israel’s media and glitterati, much to their surprise. The building’s last hurrah as an arts space before its long-overdue restoration came when the Batsheva Ensemble filmed their dance short Home Alone in its concrete halls. Just under two minutes, Home Alone showcases some inventive editing, as well as the company’s impressive dancers, so it really ought to screen along with Red House (you can find it here instead).

Tal Anati primarily uses Łodzia House as a way to measure the evolution of Tel Aviv and Israeli culture in general, sort of like the rings of a tree, but it also invites viewers to examine how we relate to space. The building was a not particularly reverent reflection of the industrial architecture of 1920s Eastern Europe, but it was perfectly suited to its 1980s function. Clearly, the Batsheva Ensemble’s video would have had a drastically different character and ambiance if it had been made anyplace else.

Thanks to Tal Anati and her interview subjects, we develop a rather thorough appreciation for the building, in an economical twenty minutes. Recommended for viewers interested in architecture and Israeli culture, The Red House screens with Praise the Lard this Thursday (1/11) and Sunday (1/14) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

One Week and a Day: Never Too Old

Pot is like old age. They both cause memory loss, so Eyal Spivak might as well light up. He has never smoked before, but some medical marijuana happens to come his way, so it would be a shame to let it go to waste. It sounds nauseatingly quirky but the mood is scrupulously mournful throughout Asaph Polonsky’s One Week and a Day (trailer here), which is now playing in New York.

Eyal and Vicky Spivak have just finished sitting shiva for Ronnie, their son of blessed memory when their estranged friends the Zoolers finally show up. Basically, Eyal shows them to the door and their cucumber salad to the garbage. Clearly, they both surviving parents are still struggling with their grief. Returning to the hospice on a dubious mission to reclaim a blanket, old man Spivak is given a bag of you know what by the failing new occupant of Ronnie’s room.

Spivak seeks solace from its medicinal benefits, but his lack of rolling skills forces him to bury the hatchet with the Zoolers’ slacker son, known simply as Zooler. The old grouch and the sushi deliveryman will sort of renew Zooler’s lapsed friendship with Ronnie, by proxy, but Vicky is a different story.

One Week is being marketed as a pot-friendly film, but old Spivak spaces out some pretty important business thanks to his partaking. Granted, this indirectly leads to a humanistic epiphany of sorts, but he would still probably be better off if he had just said no (yes, it turns out Nancy Reagan was right all along).

This is a small film, but it has some rather touching things to say about grief, parental love, and friendship. Shai Avivi (who is described as the “Larry David of Israel, but don’t let that dissuade you) is perfectly cast as the grieving grump and Tomer Kapon is appropriately scruffy but not excessively sticky as Zooler. However, Alon Shauloff is absolutely winning as the young hospice girl the two mismatched stoners take under their wings, while Uri Gavriel completely steals the film with a devastating third act eulogy.

One Week has a great deal of human decency, but it is just desperate for the audience’s love. It is nice, but not essential. Earning a modest recommendation, One Week and a Day is now playing in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

Ben-Gurion: An Epilogue and Another Film

He was one of the least dashing-looking world leaders in history, but he became an iconic symbol of grit and fortitude. He delivered Israel’s declaration of independence, but he never wrote his memoirs. However, the discovery of hours of interview footage recorded during his retirement somewhat serves a similar purpose. That previously unseen footage has been rediscovered, restored, and shaped by director-writer-producer Yariv Mozer and editor-producer Yael Perlov into Ben-Gurion: Epilogue (trailer here), the better of two Israeli-themed documentaries opening today at Film Forum.

You do not successfully guide an embattled infant nation through its growing pains by being a shrinking violet. Indeed, we get a full sample of Ben-Gurion’s forceful personality in these interviews conducted by academic Clinton Bailey, a recent immigrant from America, who would later become one of the foremost authorities on and advocates for traditional Bedouin culture.

Throughout their sessions, Ben-Gurion is relaxed, but surprisingly forthcoming and perhaps less hawkish than some viewers will expect. He admits he may have allowed himself to get caught up in the triumphant euphoria following Israel’s underdog victory in the Arab-Israeli War and sounds generally open to the land-for-peace principle. Yet, he remained an ardent Zionist, who was well-schooled in the Judaic prophets’ teachings. He was also a genuinely modest man, who preferred to be called “David” when performing chores around the Sde Boker kibbutz where he lived out his later years.

Mozer supplements Ben-Gurion’s candid reflections with archival media footage, including a mind-blowing interview conducted by Malcolm Muggeridge (you won’t find that kind of intellect in today’s media). With a running time that barely reaches seventy-minutes (by the skin of its teeth), Epilogue is a tightly constructed film that never outstays its welcome. It should definitely also lead to a greater appreciation for its subject amongst general audiences.

Unfortunately, Shimon Dotan’s The Settlers (also opening at Film Forum, but with separate admissions) is not as insightful. Basically, it represents the Israeli left’s opinions on the Settler movement, in all its snide contempt. Problematically, it never addresses one of the prime motivations for Settlers colonizing in the controversial territories—to provide a buffer zone to discourage terrorism from reaching more populated areas. If you really want to understand this movement, check out Dmitriy Khavin’s eye-opening The Territory (DVDs for sale here). Ben-Gurion: Epilogue is recommended for those interested in Israeli history, but The Settlers is not when both open today (3/3) in New York, at Film Forum.

NYJFF ’17: Dimona Twist

Dimona was (and still is) a modest provincial town in the Negev Desert when large parties of Moroccan and Polish immigrants were encouraged to settle there. Fortunately, the Israelis are good at building quickly. Perhaps you might have heard that already. Despite what the UN and the old Administration thought, this is a good thing. Of course, starting from scratch in the hardscrabble community was not easy, especially for the girls and young women accustomed to a more cosmopolitan environment. Yet, they survived and ultimately thrived, as they explain in Michal Aviad’s documentary, Dimona Twist (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Among the new arrivals, the Poles were Ashkenazi and the Moroccans were Sephardi. Their parents did not mix well, which set up many a Romeo & Juliet-style romance amongst the younger generations. Life was hard regardless in Israel during the mid-1960s, especially for those who did not speak Hebrew. Yet, most of the women Aviad interviews slowly managed to find their place in the Israeli economy and society.

Yes, they also danced the twist. It seems the Moroccan Dimonians came over with particularly hip record collections. Nevertheless, the “twist” in Dimona Twist is probably overstated. In terms of theme, style, and tone DT is much more closely akin to Aviad’s Women Pioneers than a music or style doc.

Regardless, the stories of resiliency are pretty darn impressive. Again, there is a pronounced feminist dimension to Aviad’s latest film. Israel is truly a feminist nation, but in the 1960s, there were pockets like Dimona, where the more patriarchal attitudes from their old homelands (most definitely including Morocco) still held sway.

In fact, Dimona Twist represents Israel’s continuing efforts to come to terms with its complicated past, including the less than edifying aspects. Such self-examination and self-criticism is a unique manifestation of liberal democracy. Yet, viewers should really watch DT for the toughness of its subjects. They ask for no sympathy and express few regrets. Respectfully recommended for those interested in Israeli history, Dimona Twist screens twice this coming Monday (1/23) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

NYJFF ’17: Past Life

Pop music is all very catchy, but it is out of its depth responding to events of great enormity. However, classical chorale music is perfectly suited for grand elegiac concerts. As a composer of such music, Ella Milch-Sheriff would find inspiration within her own family. A somewhat fictionalized version of their story unfolds in Avi Nesher’s Past Life (trailer here) which screens during the 2017 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Sephi Milch (as she is called in Nesher’s screenplay) is a chorale student in an Israeli conservatory who harbors ambitions of composing, but is too mousy to stand up to the sexist dean. During a concert in West Germany, Milch is rather stunned when an elderly woman accosts her, accusing her father, Dr. Baruch Milch of murder. To make it even more awkward, she happens to be the mother of famous German-Polish chorale composer Thomas Zielinski.

For various reasons (including her father’s often excessive discipline), Milch cannot dismiss the encounter, so she takes her sister Nana Milch-Kotler into her confidence. Having an even more fraught relationship with their father, the leftwing journalist assumes there must be some truth to it. With varying degrees of reluctance and enthusiasm, the two sisters start investigating their father’s past. As word of their inquiries reaches Dr. Milch, he offers to reconstruct the lost diary of the years he spent hiding in the Zielinski farm. However, the combination of Milch-Kotler’s lingering doubts and accumulated bad karma might produce tragic results for the Milch family.

The significance of setting the film in 1977 should not be lost on anyone, but Nesher does not belabor the parallels between the thaw with Sadat and the efforts of Sephi Milch and Thomas Zielinski to reconcile their parents. Indeed, it is richly detailed period production that evokes both the good and the bad of the era. For added authenticity, the haunting piece performed during the climax really was composed by Ella Milch-Sheriff.

Joy Rieger is rather remarkable as the initially naïve and submissive Sephi Milch. Her expressive face is like an open book. Nelly Tagar brings more attitude and angst as the razor-sharp but profoundly sad Milch-Kotler. Doron Tavory deftly walks a fine line as Dr. Milch, establishing his severity as a parent, but also a deep sense of his fundamentally decent but scarred psyche. Yet, Rafael Stachowiak might be the film’s X-factor as the constantly surprising Thomas Zielinski.

With Past Life, Nesher further burnishes his well-earned reputation as a filmmaker of great sensitivity. It is also a characteristic example of his affinity for historical dramas that reflect the Israeli national experience through more or less average people (this is particularly true of The Matchmaker). Nesher and his frequent cinematographer Michel Abramowicz (who also shot the first Taken film) have a knack for making a picture look nostalgic, but also darkly moody. Recommended for those who appreciate thematically sophisticated dramas and chorale music, Past Life screens Sunday (1/15) and Monday (1/16) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

On the Map: The Miracle on Hardwood

1972 was the worst year ever for international sports. During the notorious Munich Olympics, eleven members of the Israeli delegation were killed by Black September, a terrorist organization later revealed to be under the control of the Fatah wing of the PLO. At the same Munich Games, the final seconds of the Men’s Basketball Gold Medal match were rigged to allow the Soviets to eke out a one-point victory. In contrast, 1977 was a great year for international sports, for reasons also involving Israeli and Soviet athletes. Dani Menkin chronicles Israel’s unlikely championship run in the 1977 European Basketball Championship and analyzes its historic legacy in On the Map (trailer here), which opens this week in Los Angeles (and early December in New York).

Maccabi Tel Aviv was a scruffy club with a fraction of the resources of their European counterparts. However, they scored a coup when they lured highly touted NBA prospect Tal Brody away from the Baltimore Bullets. His storied career would be interrupted by stints of military service for both the U.S. and Israel, but in 1977, he still had the skills and prestige to attract the kind of local talent and just-missed-the-NBA American players Maccabi needed to compete with the Europeans.

Obviously, Maccabi did well in 1977, because nobody would make a documentary about a mediocre season. Many players and commentators compare their European championship drive to U.S. Hockey’s “Miracle on Ice,” which is particularly apt considering both teams had to win emotionally-draining, symbolically-charged victories over the Soviets just to reach the championship matches, but neither story ended there.

Menkin assembled all the surviving Maccabi players, including Brody, to re-watch their celebrated games. They clearly enjoy each other’s company and the sense of fun is contagious. It is also quite moving to hear from the widow of Jim Boatwright, Maccabi’s leading scorer. Maccabi center Aulcie Perry is also an engaging screen presence, but Menkin really does him a solid by omitting mention of his subsequent issues with drugs and crime. For extra added attitude, Menkin gets some characteristically colorful color commentary from Bill Walton, who sounds like an old school Cold Warrior when discussing the Soviet team.

Maccabi’s 1977 season is a great story just in terms of scrappy underdogs overcoming adversity. It is indeed a David versus Goliath story set in the nation of King David. However, it takes on far greater significance when considered in the context of 1970s Israel, particularly with respect to the Soviet boycott, the lingering pain of the Yom Kippur War and the Munich Massacre, and the resurgence of national pride following the Entebbe Raid. In an era when FIFA and the IOC have become synonymous with corruption, it is refreshing to revisit a time when athletes like Maccabi Tel Aviv could unite and inspire their country. Very highly recommended, On the Map opens this Friday (11/25) in Los Angles at the Laemmle Royale and two weeks later (12/9) at the Cinema Village in New York.

A Tale of Love and Darkness: Portman Adapts Oz

If great writers must be forged in a crucible of suffering, Amos Oz had a good start growing up amid all the warfare and terrorism directed at the early state of Israel by its belligerent neighbors, but his manic depressive mother really put him over the top. The writer’s complicated relationship with his mother and his nation are duly explored in Natalie Portman’s adaptation of Oz’s autobiographical novel, A Tale of Love and Darkness (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Fania Klausner died at the tragically young age of thirty-eight, but it wasn’t a suicide bombing that killed her. She was once the pampered daughter of a wealthy and respected Eastern European family, but she always idealized the settler’s life in what was then referred to as Palestine. Yet, somehow she wound married to Arieh Klausner, an especially bookish librarian. She seems ill-suited to the harsh realities of war-torn Israel, but her love for her son Amos will initially compensate for life’s bitter disappointments. Unfortunately, her depression will grow steadily deeper, dragging her down to a very dark place.

Given its iconic stature and relentlessly elegiac tone, Oz’s book is quite a gutsy property for Portman’s directorial debut. Frankly, it is pretty darned impressive how deftly she brings out the novel’s humanist themes. There is considerable craftsmanship evident in each frame, especially Slawomir Idziak’s classy cinematography. The fact that the film is not a complete and utter downer suggests Portman has some legit talent behind the camera. Despite playing Klausner as a tragic beauty worthy of Joan Crawford, Tale never feels like Portman’s vanity project, which is saying something. In fact, she is often quite poignant in the part.

Still, the relationship between the elegant Mother Fania nee Mussman and Gilad Kahana’s plodding Arieh Klausner remains a one-sided mystery. Although they have believably functional-dysfunctional chemistry together, just like a married couple with long, complex history together, they still look jarring together. Young Amir Tessler has the appropriate preciousness for the young future Amos Oz, but he often seems weirdly aloof, as if he were aware his older self was narrating each scene.

There are indeed pacing issues and rocky patches, but scenes that trace Amos Klausner’s development into Amos Oz (a surname he adopted for its Hebrewness), Israel’s preeminent novelist (translated in China, which is saying something) ring with resonance. Despite Oz’s reputation as a left-wing advocate of a two-state solution (but not a compete pacifist or appeaser), Portman’s adaptation largely avoids political statements. For the most part, it is a highly respectable literary period production. Better than early reviews have indicated, A Tale of Love and Darkness opens this Friday (8/19) in New York, at the Landmark Sunshine.

Tikkun: The Anti-Inspirational Near-Death Film

Haim-Aaron could be the Orthodox Jewish Dannion Brinkley or Betty Eadie, but notoriety is the last thing he wants. He was not seeking grounds to question his faith either, but it happens just the same in Avishai Sivan’s distorted and disorienting auteurist vision, Tikkun (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

This is not your father’s Yentl. Viewers should be able to quickly figure that out from loving attention Sivan focuses on kosher slaughter practices during the opening sequences. Initially, Haim-Aaron is the devoutly obedient son his father always wanted. He studies at the Yeshiva with a zeal approaching martyrdom. Unfortunately, his most recent bout of fasting leaves him so weak a fall in the shower nearly kills him. In fact, Haim-Aaron is effectively dead for forty minutes. Yet, somehow after the paramedics give up, Haim-Aaron’s father manages to revive his comatose son.

Of course, nothing is the same for Haim-Aaron after his death. He seems like the same submissive wet noodle, but he now has trouble stifling his sexual stirrings. Even though Haim-Aaron cannot conceive of a life outside religion, he simply is unable to maintain his previous level of intense devotion. He even starts falling asleep in class. Soon, his father’s sense that something is amiss is amplified by his visions of a talking alligator slithering out of the toilet to chide him for interfering with God’s will. Yes, seriously. In fact, that doom-saying gator gets enough screen time to be considered a significant supporting player.

Shot in a strikingly chilly black-and-white, Tikkun a harshly intimate examination of cloistered alienation, punctuated by moments of absolute madness. Sivan never engages with genre cinema conventions, but the alligator scenes will still inevitably draw some curious midnight movie patrons. Frankly, Tikkun is so uncompromisingly realized, it is hard to say whether they will be disappointed or dazzled by its severity. However, even those closely familiar with Eraserheads and Audition will be taken aback by the film’s climatic transgressions. It is not just the Hasidic community who are likely to be offended by Sivan’s ultimate destination.

The formerly Hasidic Aharon Traitel (who also helped translate Yiddish texts for Sivan) is uncomfortably believable as the emotionally stunted Haim-Aaron. At times, we can almost see his muscle memories guiding his performance. Yet the real soul-plumbing, knock-you-back-on-your-heels performance comes from Khalifa Natour, as the tormented butcher. Despite his problematic decisions and an extreme faith bordering on insanity, he remains a deeply human and perversely sympathetic figure.

“Tikkun” is one of those conveniently ambiguous words with multiple meanings, including rectification and in some contexts, a form of spiritual reincarnation to right a past wrong or complete some unfinished business. However, Sivan’s Tikkun absolutely, positively should not be considered a Judaic analog to 90 Minutes in Heaven. It is a tough, defiantly bleak portrayal of Orthodox religious life and human nature in general. It is recommended on its considerable technical merit for hardcore cineastes, but general audiences should be strongly cautioned. It opens today (6/10) today in New York, at the IFC Center and the Film Society of Lincoln Center.

A Slightly Strange Course of Events

To visit his father at work in a Haifa mall, Shaul Tzimmer must first be wanded by security. It will soon be that way here too. At least it hasn’t hurt business for Shimon Tzimmer’s employers. Apparently they can still easily afford to pay him to putter about. He is delighted to see his somewhat estranged son again, but he is about the only one who voluntarily opts for the sourpuss’s company in Raphaël Nadjari’s A Strange Course of Events (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Shaul Tzimmer is a divorced father who is stuck in a joyless job as a late-night hospital receptionist. The worst part about his life is his full understanding of his loserishness. For some reason, Tzimmer decides to visit the father he has not seen in years, even though he hardly shows any desire to patch things up. Regardless, he is stuck going through the motions when his father introduces him to his New Agey but age-appropriate girlfriend Bati. Shaul does not have much to say to her, but he doesn’t have much charm for anyone. Unfortunately, things will get even more awkward when a freak accident lays Tzimmer up in Haifa.

It is a testament to the stringent reserve of Nadjari and his co-screenwriter Geoffroy Grison that the modest conclusion feels genuinely satisfying. I’m not saying this film is sleight of stature, but it needs a paperweight to keep it from blowing away with the wind. Arguably, Jocelyn Soubiran & Jean-Pierre Sluys’ distinctive, vaguely Middle Eastern-flavored sound track does exactly that, supplying heft and flavor to the light-weight film.

In all fairness, Ori Pfeffer also deserves tremendous credit for his weirdly engaging work as Tzimmer. He is painfully standoffish, yet Pfeffer makes it clear he would like to be more sociable and approachable, but he just does not have it in him. Moni Moshonov is also rock-solid as Shimon Tzimmer, but Michela Eshet is unfortunately annoying as the batty Bati.

It is rather rewarding to watch a downbeat sad sack finally try to take charge of his life, but Nadjari keeps the revelations ever so small and discreet. Frankly, the film would be more aptly titled “A Mildly Diverting Series of Loosely Connected Episodes.” Still, there is value to the work of Pfeffer and Soubiran & Sluys. A Strange Course of Events is a nice little film, but it is as unessential as it is unassuming. Safely harmless, it opens tomorrow (2/26) in New York, at the Cinema Village.