A Film a Week - The Milky Way

 previously published on Cineuropa

Monetising something related to our body is a taboo and always has been. Different “products” sold incur different judgements: cutting hair and selling it is not such a bad thing, but selling “extra” organs is. However, breast milk was always exempt from such rules for practical reasons: wet nurses have saved millions, if not billions, of lives throughout history. The concept was upgraded to human milk banks in the first half of the 20th century, but with the rise in baby formula in the second half of the century, they became somewhat obsolete and their popularity waned.

Now, Israeli filmmaker Maya Kenig takes the concept and gives it a slightly hipster-dystopian twist in her sophomore feature, The Milky Way, which has just premiered at Tallinn Black Nights, in the Critics’ Picks section.

Tala (Hila Ruach) is a single mother and a musician who never attained any significant success. Unable to support herself in any other way, she applies for a job donating her breast milk to the titular company. While she is working, pumping her own milk for rich clients to use, she must rely on the help of the company’s daycare system, led by a judgemental caregiver, or on her own mother’s (Orli Roth Feldheim) assistance, which also comes at the price of having judgement passed on her. When she breaks the company’s strict rules, and gets caught and suspended, she enlists the help of a delivery truck driver (Evgeny Moliboga) to satisfy her curiosity and see where the milk goes.

Realising that her own milk is being sold to a single, very peculiar buyer, she decides to take a look around the person’s house. After a series of mishaps and attempts to get out of trouble, only to get herself into even more problems, she meets Nili (Hadas Yaron), who has an indecent proposal for her. The offer comes with great benefits that could allow Tala to clear her debts and even try to pursue her singing career, but it also entails unclear and ever-changing rules of engagement coming from the bossy and moody Nili…

Although Kenig basically just takes a familiar concept and puts a cold, absurdist and dystopian twist (which seems lifted from Yorgos Lanthimos’s films) on it, she knows how to play with it in order to achieve what she wants in the first place. In this case, it is an examination of motherhood, capitalism and the ever-growing social differences between the “haves” and the “have-nots”, always putting our protagonist on the losing end. The danger of taking the premise in the “misery porn” direction is averted by the director’s choice to deal with such serious topics in a light-hearted way. To do so, she can rely on her main actress, Hila Ruach, whose energetic performance and instant chemistry with the rest of the cast prove to be essential for setting and maintaining the tone of the film.

The aesthetic and craft choices also prove to be sound judgements on the part of Kenig, who, along with writing and directing the movie, also serves as its editor. Kenig opts for a breezy, indie aesthetic powered by the contrasts between the spaces that our characters (coming from different social strata) occupy, and for lively pacing, where the synth music by Tom Armony, Assa Raviv and the lead actress herself gently manipulates and massages the viewer’s mood. The Milky Way hits the right spot as a blend of a serious topic and a gentle touch – something that is increasingly rare at film festivals today.

A Film a Week - The Vanishing Soldier

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

Countless films have been made around the premise of people making a decision that turns out to be wrong, which further triggers the chain reaction of events. But when the army, especially Israeli Defence Force (IDF) is involved, the usual SNAFU (Situation Normal All F***ed Up) quickly goes to FUBAR (F***ed Up Beyond All Repair). That would, in short, be the case with Dani Rosenberg’s (of 2020 dramedy “The Death of Cinema and My Father Too” fame) “The Vanishing Soldier” that has just premiered at the main competition of Locarno.

Shlomi (Ido Tako) is an 18-year-old boy drafted in the army and stationed somewhere in the middle of combat zone. When the action comes too close for him, he uses his wits to lag behind and desert from the front line. Is it a conscious decision? An anti-war statement? Or it is just an instinctive reaction of a young man driven by fear or urges of some kind? We would soon find out, but not before the Army authorities learn about his disappearance. That kind of event has to be put in a narrative framework, and for the Army the most suitable would be that he got stranded from his company and is captured by the enemy.

In the meanwhile, we learn that Shlomi is not a coward, a quitter or a frightened young boy prone to panic, and neither he has a strong anti-war and anti-militaristic sentiment. Actually, he is a driven, resourceful young man that comes from a decent family of Israeli patriots that never defied the state. The reason he ran away more or less straight to Tel Aviv is the relationship with his girlfriend Shiri (Mika Reiss) who is preparing to leave the country and go for studies in Canada. But is there a way back for a silly romantic soul that deserted for the reason of mixed signals, and does Shlomi has to face the consequences of his act?…

One can argue that Rosenberg and his co-writer Amir Kliger rely too much on the clichés of silly young people doing silly things, convenient plotting with mostly predictable twist (some of which, like the whole slapsticky thing with the couple of French tourist Shlomi robs of clothes on his way, are played just for laughs) and that Rosenberg’s direction is simply too showy in order to mask the lack of originality in the idea department. But this is not completely true, since Rosenberg demonstrates considerable skills in both of his roles. He masterfully plays with genres, making “The Vanishing Soldier” partly a heart-warming romance, partly a drama, partly an eloquent satire, partly a broad comedy and partly a thriller, and does so in style that is kinetic rather than simply busy.

On his course, he enjoys the help of the exhilarated actors who gladly go into interplays with one another. While the chemistry between the main couple is palpable, there is still a reality check that the relationships of 18-year-olds are made of misunderstandings, misread signals and the selfish motivations sometimes including grand gestures and nonsensical decisions. However, the film moves into a higher comedic gear when Shlomi encounters his concerned parents (Efrat Ben Tzur and Shmulik Cohen), his semi-demented, but still kindhearted grandma (Tikva Dayan) or the aforementioned French couple.

The technical components are not lagging behind either. David Stragmeister cinematography usually in longer, kinetic and tracking takes serves Rosenberg’s vision perfectly, Nili Feller’s editing keeps the beat up throughout the 105 minutes of runtime, offering breaks only when they are absolutely needed, while Yuval Semo’s music adds to the tension up to the boiling point.

The greatest thing about “The Vanishing Soldier”, however, are not the things that are said, openly shown or even that easy to spot. It is never mentioned, but it works as an exposé of the sometimes lethal contradictions of daily life in Israel. It is not just the matter of the country giving a lot of effort to defend itself from its neighbours, but not enough effort in negotiating some kind of functional peace with them. It is about careless partying that can easily be interrupted by the sirens resounding or, in more extreme cases, bombs exploding, of a uniformed soldier being a common sight on the street and on the beach, and of the fact that drafting the 18-year-old kids that are often lovestruck, and even more often impulsive, is never a good idea.

A Film a Week - My Project X

 previously published on Cineuropa

Serial killers are often the subject of people's professional curiosity, or some hobby- or trivia-like morbid fascination – even obsession. In the case of Michal Wells, born Ben Horin, the protagonist of Limor Pinhasov’s documentary My Project X, the obsession with that character profile is not professional, and nor can it be described as curiosity or fascination; rather, it's deeply personal. For her, they are the gateway to trying to understand someone who hurt her and abused her – her own stepfather, Mordechai “Motke” Kedar, the notorious killer and convict known as “Prisoner X”. The film premiered in the national competition of Docaviv, where it also won the Special Jury Prize.

A good part of Pinhasov’s work is based on Wells’ own footage of prison-set interviews with Charles Manson, whose cult caused havoc in 1960s California; Richard Ramirez, known as The Night Stalker, who raped and murdered more than 15 women; and Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme, the former member of Manson’s gang who attempted to assassinate US president Gerald Ford. In them, they share their theories of what was wrong with society and which circumstances contributed to them following their deviant path, but they never express any guilt or remorse. Michal revisits the footage and comments on it both academically and personally.

The other part of the documentary deals with Motke Kedar’s biography, from his humble beginnings in the town of Kadera, his life as a gang leader, his involvement in a money-truck heist, and the murder of a taxi driver, for which he was incarcerated for the first time. But instead of serving time, he got enlisted in the training programme of the Military Intelligence Directorate Unit 131. The Secret Service thought it could “tame the tiger” and use Kedar’s physical, intellectual and murderous skills for covert operations. However, on his mission in Buenos Aires, he killed and robbed his informant. Once back in Israel, he was convicted to 17 years of solitary confinement, after which he became something of a cult figure on the Tel Aviv bohemian scene for his chess-playing chops, his quoting of philosophers and his interpreting skills. Then he met Michal’s widowed mother, Tamar, uprooted the family and moved to California.

There, Michal’s calvary started, with emotional abuse disguised as homeschooling and rape masked as sexual education. Like all three criminals who are interviewed, Motke might seem smart, charismatic and eloquent, but ultimately, he was manipulative and deranged, and his deeds definitely left her with painful scars. Michal’s journey might seem somewhat futile in the end, since there is no simple closure, but we can understand her need to ask the killers the same questions she could not ask her stepfather.

For us, in the safe and comfortable position of viewers, this voyage is nothing less than fascinating. With Michal as our guide and Limor Pinhasov as the director, who uses Shauli Melamed’s dynamic editing together of many different types of footage, and Didi Erez’s always-fitting moody soundtrack, it is simply riveting. The problems sometimes occur with the newly filmed re-enactment scenes, which might have been the only way to recount some things, but never feel as real as the rest of the footage, especially that stemming from the archives. Luckily, these parts are not tasteless and do not spoil the sincerity of the colossal emotional journey that is My Project X.

A Film a Week - The Child Within Me

 previously published on Cineuropa

Every music scene, whether in terms of location or style, has its own phenomena. Even though the Israeli guitar-based pop and rock scene is not as present or as recognised on the global stage as some other types of music coming from the country, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have its heroes, stars and legends. Yehuda Poliker is certainly one of them, and he is the focus of the documentary The Child Within Me, directed by Eti Aneta Segev and Yaniv Amoday, which has just premiered in the Music section of Docaviv.

The opening of the film, with black-and-white shots from backstage areas morphing into full colour once the star starts playing, is typical and even verges dangerously on the stereotypical when Poliker starts explaining how he becomes another person when he performs. Also, the title, which comes straight out of Poliker’s own mouth as an answer to the question of what keeps him going on stage, could have entailed a diversion into saccharine territory, but Segev and Amoday are more ambitious than that, and they are deft enough in covering their tracks. By the end of the film, the viewer will understand that the child within Poliker, as well as Poliker, the adult, are pretty complex.

The main framework of the doc, also shot in crisp black and white by Itzik Portal, is an extended interview with Poliker conducted by Segev herself from the special vantage point of being his one-time collaborator and his friend ever since. Poliker is a strong presence, a big man with a round face, an undercut and a “man bun” of hair as well as piercingly bright eyes, but he still seems friendly to the interviewer and, by extension, to the audience. The conversation moves organically and fluidly from one topic to another and is illustrated by a variety of archival material, such as home photos and videos, as well as clips from recorded live shows and TV appearances.

The first half is focused on Poliker’s developmental path in music, from taking a guitar in his hands for the first time in naval school to dropping out of school, playing in various bands, meeting Yaakov Gilad (with whom he would collaborate for the lengthiest part of his career), joining the band Benzene and going solo after the break-up of the group. This last move, and changing his music style from a blend of strictly rock influences to an intriguing mix of rock and traditional Greek music, opens up a number of new topics: his close-knit Greek-Jewish family and his parents, who were both Holocaust survivors and settlers in Israel; living with and being immersed in different cultures; his left-leaning world-view; his homosexuality and two-phase coming out (first to his family, and then, after his parents’ death, publicly); and eventually, the inspiration that led him to try painting, focusing on the eye-shaped patterns around him.

The topics that come up in conversation are both numerous and complex, which exposes the film to certain risks: the audience may get lost in them, or the movie may give the impression that it is only superficially touching on them during its 90-minute running time. Luckily, the directorial duo relies heavily on editor Shira Arad, whose work on selecting the material earned her a co-screenwriting credit and who blends the pieces into a smooth whole with a strong sense of continuity. In the end, The Child Within Me serves as a concentrated guide to an amazing music career and the complex, remarkable person that is Yehuda Poliker.

A Film a Week - 1948 - Remember, Remember Not

 previously published on Cineuropa

There is probably no country in the world with a completely spotless history, and yet there is no country in the world that does not try to present its history as being as spotless as possible. Nations are usually forged in wars and revolutions, and their official narratives are based on stories of glorious battles and heroic resistance, while the less savoury acts on the margins of those are usually left out. Maybe the word we are looking for here is ethos, defined as “the distinguishing character, sentiment, moral nature or guiding beliefs of a nation, race, group” by Neta Shoshani in her newest and most complex documentary, 1948 – Remember, Remember Not, which has just premiered in the Israeli Competition of Docaviv. With it, the filmmaker jumps straight to the core of the Israeli ethos, to the titular year, the war(s) that were happening then and the narratives formed around the events by both the regular participants and the decision makers on different sides of the conflict.

The documentary functions as a singular work, but it is divided into two parts. It is based on letters and diary entries illustrated by rare archive material, with graphic interventions that provide a historical context on a larger scale. However, multiple lines of division can be observed in Shoshani’s documentary: one between the different sides in the conflict, one between the past and the present, one between the events taking place before and after the end of the British Mandate (15 May 1948), and the main one – what is to be remembered from the war the country emerged from and what is not.

The first part, titled Remember, deals mainly with the events from the period before the withdrawal of the British soldiers, in the last few months of 1947 and the first half of 1948, with more of a focus on the actual events on the front lines and with a “repercussion” in the present in the form of an Israel Defense Forces (IDF) missing persons unit’s search for the remains of the soldiers who died in battles in the aforementioned period of time. The second part, Remember Not, mainly deals with the stage of the war when it became international, after the intervention of the armies of the five Arab League nations, and the UN’s attempts to mediate in the conflict through its representative Count Folke Bernadotte, with a focus on larger-scale historical events. Its counterpart in the present are the attempts of a group of lawyers to declassify the controversial Shapira Report (made by then-Attorney General Yaakov Shapira regarding the accusations that IDF fighters harmed civilians in the latter period of the conflict, and classified ever since) and the filmmaker’s interviews with government officials who oppose it because revealing it could harm the very “ethos” of Israel.

The written and video material that Shoshani relies on is simply stunning in its sheer emotional power. It is also finely blended with the newly filmed material (lensed by Itay Raziel) and with the graphics that prove to be invaluable for the foreign viewer, while the subtle score by Asher Goldshmit also suits the film well. 1948 – Remember, Remember Not is a very informative and detailed documentary on a historical topic, but its 150-minute running time could prove to be a tad too much for a viewer who is not completely invested in the topic, and some of the information and attitudes stated in it might feel a bit repetitive, so a tighter, shorter cut could prove to be more enticing for international audiences.

A Film a Week - Let It Be Morning / Vayehi boker

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

One of the few good things on the margins of the long-standing Israeli-Palestinian conflict is that there is at least some cultural exchange between the sides, so dissonant tones critical to the official policies can be heard, at least coming from the Israeli side. One of those voices certainly belongs to filmmaker and screenwriter Eran Kolirin whose film “The Band’s Visit” (2007) dared to ask a crucial question how it is for good people at a wrong place, such was the case of the visiting Egyptian band in Israel.

Kolirin’s newest film “Let It Be Morning” is a proper Israeli-Palestinian collaboration, based on the novel by the Palestinian journalist-writer Sayed Kashua, known for the source material of the films “Private” (2004) and “A Borrowed Identity” (2014), and on the topic of the Israeli Arabs and their need to re-assess the identities they have built in the times of distress. Filmed with a Palestinian cast and a mixed crew, it tells a Kafka-esque story about a man’s life getting shattered after he was forced to stay with his family and childhood friends for way longer than he expected, due to the lockdown imposed on his home village.

When we first see him, Sami (Alex Bakri) has all the reasons to be satisfied with himself: he has a good job in Jerusalem, he is married to a beautiful woman Mira (Juna Suleiman) with whom he has an adorable son, and his father Tarek (Salim Saw) wants to add a wing to the family house just for him. The reason for Sami’s visit is the wedding of his younger brother Aziz (Samer Bisharat) and also an attempt to explain to his father that he is not willing to quit his Jerusalem life just yet. The trouble hits him on his way back after the wedding: the village has been put under lockdown by the Israeli army, and the reason for such a development might be the question of “daffawis”, the undocumented West Bank Palestinians who use the village for getting into Israel where they work illegally.

Sami cannot go back, so he has to face all the things he was running from to his job and his mistress for years: his immediate family, dissatisfied wife who senses something is wrong, his over-bearing father, his hopelessly naïve brother, his sister and her husband who is into local politics, the local politics itself full of lies, criminality and corruption, and his childhood friends, namely Abed (Ehab Salami) who did not find his place in life. As the conditions worsen day by day, Sami has to admit that he is no better than the others and that he has been living in a lie.

At a deliberately slow pace, “Let It Be Morning” goes down multiple tracks, exploring various rarely exposed topics from the daily life of Israeli Arabs and other Palestinians, the differences in their status in Israel and even in its Arabic villages and settlements, and switching tone between an absurdist comedy and a serious drama. On the other hand, it is also a film about the family- and even more general societal and human relations in a situation that is certainly out of normal, and that strikes suddenly, even though it could be expected to occur.

The slowness takes a toll on the viewers also, but there is a good reason for that, since both Kashua in his novel and Kolirin in his film are actually exploring an uncharted territory and are set on creating an atmosphere of waiting and helplessness that is quite universal for common people stuck in a situation at odds with authorities. Also, it leaves enough time and space for the characters to develop, which facilitates the job for the actors. Alex Bakri is a domineering presence on the screen with his blend of smugness and melancholy, Juna Suleiman steps in the role of Mira bravely, Samer Bisharat plays the comic relief-type of character with certain grace, while Ehab Salami manages to squeeze sympathy for the little man who never had a lucky break.

Shai Goldman’s cinematography catches the claustrophobia of the cramped village and cramped houses shared by family clans instead of nuclear families, and puts it in contrast with the diverse landscape around the village that seems like a hilly, arid desert from one angle and an oasis from another, hinting that some beauty and peace could be found even in a hopeless place. Maybe it was the original goal of both Kashua and Kolirin. “Let It Be Morning” is certainly more about the journey than about the destination.

A Film a Week - America

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

There is hardly more exploited concept in literature and cinema as it is a love triangle, and there are few filmmakers that could pull it in a new and fresh way. The Israeli filmmaker Ofir Raul Graizer has a difficult task to stir the water in his unique way with his sophomore feature “America” that has premiered in the official Crystal Globe competition at Karlovy Vary. Some sort of a festival tour might be expected judging by the tone of film, its execution and Graizer’s own reputation: his debut “The Cakemaker” (2017) that also premiered at KVIFF went to become the Israeli official entry for 2018 Oscar and a minor arthouse hit.

The title, which later proves to be quite misleading, comes the place where our protagonist Ilay Cross (Michael Moshonov) resides and works as a swimming coach. One day, he receives a phone call from his father’s attorney that informs him that the father has passed away and that Ilai inherited the house. Once he gets back to Israel, we learn that his actual name is Eli Greenberg, that his father was a national hero and a local sheriff, that his mother is long gone and that Eli had a complicated relationship with his family.

In the meanwhile, Eli reconnects with his childhood friend and swimming rival Yotam (Ofri Biterman) who now owns a florist shop and is engaged with Iris (Oshrat Ingadashet). For the old times’ sake, Eli and Yotam go swimming in the creek where they played when they were kids, but, while Eli takes a nap in the sun, Yotam slips and falls to end up in a vegetative state. Ten months later, Eli is still in Israel, refurbishing his house in order to sell it well. Iris’ shop is deeply in debt, so she accepts Eli’s offer to help him with the garden and while doing so, the two get closer and fall in love. When Yotam suddenly wakes up from coma, the relationship dynamics are about to be re-evaluated again…

While the plot description and the film’s structure in four chapters (the last of them serves actually as an epilogue) seem a bit Almodóvar-esque, “America” is actually a film that plays by its own set of rules. Each character we encounter is quite complex and life-like, which is especially true for our central trio whose traits, past and trauma we get to learn slowly through the drips of information Graizer feeds us through his script. Also, each of the central three chapters is centred around one of the relationships in the completely drawn triangle: Eli’s and Yotam’s platonic bro-mance, Eli’s and Iris’ passionate affair coming out of desperation, and Iris’ and Yotam’s rekindled love through which they both survive.

Graizer’s directing style is toned-down and discreet, but also quite tactile. He demonstrated it also in “The Cakemaker”, which also had a queer angle and was more focused on relationship building through enjoying and preparing food. In “America”, Graizer focuses more on the tactile aspect of the intrapersonal dynamics in relationships that always have some physical component, whether they are sexual by nature or not. The only thing that breaks that unity is Dominique Charpentier’s score that is a bit too revealing.

Shot in the colours of the eternal warm season in Israel, suggestively edited and equipped with fitting production- and costume design, “America” is very much competent piece of work. The amount of storytelling control achieved through the fine-tuning process by Graizer actually makes “America” resemble an American film, whether it be a higher profile indie or a smaller studio production.

Graizer’s detailed and layered writing also allows the standout performances in the acting department. Michael Moshonov has the most complex, but also the most thankful task as Eli, a decent man of high ethical standards, but also of strong emotions and deeply hidden traumas covered with a layer of mystery. As Iris, Oshrat Ingadashet gets to play the most emotional and vulnerable part, while Ofri Bitterman has to show the multitude of moods, from joviality to helplessness to determination.

“America” is definitely very well made and very accessible film that could do very well with different audiences. Watching it gives the sense of reading a fine novel. Maybe Graizer just has to follow the footsteps of the protagonist he created and takes a jump across the pond where he could be a reliable “money player”.

A Film a Week - 40 Steps

 previously published on Cineuropa

Hatred is taught, but so is tolerance. An attempt to do so in a very specific situation is the central topic of the documentary 40 Steps, written and directed by Gad Aisen and Manor Birman, which has just premiered at Docaviv, where it also triumphed in the Beyond the Screen Competition.

The title of the film refers to the distance between two schools that share a playground in the Shapira neighbourhood, in the southern part of Tel Aviv. One of them, Shapira Neighbourhood School, is public, while the other, Shorashim State-Religious School is, well, religious. The former is attended by students coming from the ranks of the secular people in the area, many of whom are immigrants and refugees from Palestine, Africa and the former Soviet Union, while the second is attended by the Orthodox Jewish kids who are descendants of the immigrants from the previous waves. The trouble is rooted in the past, specifically some 100 years ago, when Shapira was founded by the Jews looking for cheaper land than that which was available in fast-growing Tel Aviv, and for peace and quiet, which was not the case in Jaffa. Since 1924, Shapira has become home to countless waves of Jewish immigrants and refugees from different parts of the world, but the most recent influx that the neighbourhood has witnessed has brought people who are not religious, or even Jewish at all, whom the “natives” see as a threat.

It is up to the two heads of the schools, Shahar and Elior, to make things work while not betraying the principles that both of the institutions were founded on. They have to find a common language to reconcile both of the opposing cultures, while also dealing with the personal problems of their students and their parents, plus the wider problems of the community, such as the pressure from gentrification and the division of the population along several fault lines (other than the best-known Israeli-Palestinian conflict, there are also tensions between the religious and the secular, the European and the African, and between generations of immigrants), which can result in protests that verge on violence.

The filmmaking duo takes a humanist perspective, which prevents them from being objective or neutral, but nevertheless, they try to provide the necessary screen time for both sides, represented by the two protagonists and a gallery of supporting characters (the students, their parents, and the heads’ own parents, spouses and children) in each camp. Sometimes, they unearth the absurdities inherent in this society (the leader of the organisation behind the protests against the “infiltrators” is a former leftist and peace activist who also belongs to marginalised societal groups, being a woman, a lesbian and a child of Holocaust survivors), but their primary goal is to provide a sympathetic ear for both sides and to convey a message of tolerance.

On the level of its craft, 40 Steps is decent and thorough, while not exactly an innovative film. The semi-observational approach (the subjects rarely talk directly to the camera, which follows them around closely) fits the material. The switches between the semi-close-ups shot by Aisen and the aerial drone shots and 3D graphics add to the dynamics, while the rapid editing by Noga Weizman, which employs a jump cut here and there, keeps the tempo upbeat for the whole of the doc’s 78 minutes.

A Film a Week - The Fourth Window

 previously published on Cineuropa

There is no doubt that Amos Oz was one of the key figures of Israeli literature and also the country’s political life, not just because of his impressive output of literary works and newspaper columns, but also because of their quality in the sense of touching the young nation’s heart and asking all the right questions. Oz was already the subject of a documentary, Masha and Yonathan Zur’s Amos Oz: The Nature of Dreams (2009), and his works also got their own film adaptations (Natalie Portman’s 2015 directorial debut, A Tale of Love and Darkness, based on Oz’s memoir, being the best-known one). This time, Israeli documentarian Yair Qedar, who has considerable experience of directing biographical documentaries about literary figures, as demonstrated in his 2015 works The Awakening and Zelda: A Simple Woman, takes on the task of telling the complete story with The Fourth Window. The film premiered almost simultaneously internationally in the official selection of the Thessaloniki Documentary Festival and on home turf in the national competition of Docaviv.

As stated near the start of the film, Oz’s life was influenced by two tragedies. One happened early on: his mother committed suicide when he was just 12. But the other one occurred just before his death, when his daughter Galia accused him of physical, emotional and mental abuse. The first tragedy is properly explained and leads to a conclusion: that it eventually turned a rebellious Jerusalem boy who did not fit in with the crowd into a writer whose topics revolved around families. Meanwhile, the second one is somehow under-explained, which could be seen as one of the film’s flaws, but given that Galia’s book Something Disguised as Love was published earlier this year, Qedar’s decision to avoid entering a tabloid conflict either for or against Oz was probably a smart choice.

In the meantime, we get to see and hear about the transformation of a boy into a man, a writer and a political activist, and about the social consciousness of Israel. We learn about his moving into a kibbutz, his life and literary beginnings there, his marriage to Nili, his political views evolving along the lines of left-wing Zionism and the application of these ideals in light of the conflicts with the neighbouring Arab nations. We also get to see a temporary fall from grace in the eyes of the public and his comeback, while his friend and biographer Nurith Gertz serves as our guide.

Granted, the phone conversations between Gertz and Oz accompanied by the visuals of a particular Tel Aviv street are the backbone of the film, but we also get to see the interviews with Gertz and other Israeli and global powerhouses in the domains of literature, publishing, journalism and culture, such as David Grossman, Etgar Keret, Nicole Krauss and Natalie Portman, among others. We hear the excerpts from his books read aloud by Dror Keren and set against the various archival footage, with Chris Marker’s Description of a Struggle (1960) being the most recognisable material.

Shot by a small army of cinematographers, with one single dynamic shot near the end of the film, and edited by Nili Feller, The Fourth Window is a well-crafted, respectful and highly informative film that better serves the existing fans of Oz’s literature and politics, while potential new ones might need more time to process the amount of the material they are presented with here.