Roses à crédit

Over the last 20 years, Amos Gitaï has constructed a marvelous career making films that confront Israeli history, politics and memory. Be prepared for something entirely different with “Roses à crédit,” a film shot entirely in France, where evidence of contemporary society appears to be virtually absent (although there is indubitably a message for the present embedded in its tale). Israel is never mentioned; ditto the Holocaust. This is a brave, bold new step for Gitaï and the resulting film feels like the work of a master moving in a new artistic direction.

The film mercilessly but sensitively dissects the materialist, post-war world of the French lower middle-class. It starts with a radio broadcast from the Second World War, a piece of official Vichy propaganda, and soon moves to stirring Resistance speeches of patriotic exhortation. This is the backdrop for a wedding between Daniel and Marjoline, a relationship that we follow over the following years as it waxes and wanes, mirroring in many ways the fortunes of France itself at this time. Marjoline, an attractive but somewhat empty-headed girl, soon turns into a consumer par-excellence, eagerly devouring magazines and ads, looking for exciting new clothes or appliances for her house. Daniel, on the other hand, is more of a dreamer, in love with the roses that were a family business and which he has inherited along with his patrimony.

Gitaï proves extremely adept at following the emotional curves of this ill-fated marriage, as debt and credit begin to overwhelm the couple’s early romanticism. While everyday life plays out against a backdrop of post-war reconstruction and expansion, the ebb and flow of the relationship is beautifully circumscribed. Furthermore, the film is a paean to ’50s décor, clothes and design; as immense efforts have been painstakingly made to assure total faithfulness to the era. But underneath the immaculate surface lies a potent message. [Synopsis courtesy of Piers Handling/Toronto International Film Festival]

Rabin, the Last Day

Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, who died on November 4, 1995, was murdered by a 25-year-old, right wing law student who opposed the signing of the Oslo Accords and the Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank. The assassination of Rabin was a shock to the Israeli public and it has forever changed the politics of the region.

Rabin, The Last Day combines staged re-enactments with actual news footage of the shooting, talking-head interviews (one with former Israeli president Shimon Peres) and rare video of the removal of Jewish settlers from occupied Gaza. But even the fictional deposition scenes were made with direct transcripts from the Shamgar Commission, which investigated the Prime Minister’s assassination.

Words with Gods

In Words with Gods, each director recounts a narrative centered around human fragility, as well as environmental and cultural crises involving specific religions with which each has a personal relationship; including early Aboriginal Spirituality, Umbanda, Buddhism, the Abrahamic faiths, Hinduism, and Atheism. An animated sequence by Mexican animator Maribel Martinez is woven through each of the film segments, with each segment narratively connected as a feature length film.

Ana Arabia

Filmed in one sequence-shot of 1:25, Ana Arabia is a moment in the life of a small community of outcasts, Jews and Arabs, who live together in a forgotten enclave at the “border” between Jaffa and Bat Yam, in Israel. One day, Yael, a young journalist, visits them. In these dilapidated shacks, in the orchard filled with lemon trees and surrounded by mass public houses, she discovers a range of characters far removed from the usual clichés offered by the region. Yael has the feeling of having discovered a human goldmine. She no longer thinks of her job. Faces and words of Youssef and Miriam, Sarah and Walid, of their neighbors, their friends tell her about life, its dreams and its hopes, its love affairs, desires and disillusions. Their relation to time is different than that of the city around them. In this tinkered and fragile place, there is a possibility of coexistence. A universal metaphor.

Carmel

Israeli filmmaker Amos Gitaï offers a look impressionist long history of armed conflict in their nation.