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.