There’s something about the experience of going to the movies that makes magic. The darkened room, the fellowship of audience, the larger-than-life screen all combine to transport us to a different time or place, and to make us believe, at least for the time we sit in the theatre, in the world the director, actors and cinematographer have conspired to create for us.
Today, of course, we see movies not only in grand movie palaces, but in multiplex venues with tiny screening rooms, at home on TV screens, computers and tablets, and even on our phones at the beach. The easy access to movies anywhere and the smallness of many screens has made viewing films less of an occasion than it was decades ago and perhaps also diminished that sense of magic that struck early moviegoers. But the ability to watch films over and over, to replay certain scenes and to zoom in on details can also give us a stronger sense of how movies are put together, what makes them work and how they can be in conversation with one another.
But the ability of a well-made film to make us think and feel in unanticipated ways remains. At the same time that movies bring us out of ourselves and our ordinary lives, they also press us to think about our inner lives, our society, our politics, and to imagine our way into other people’s lives. If this is true of movies generally, it is stunningly true of Israeli movies, a longtime fascination of mine.
For many years, I made it a priority to frequent the wonderful Jerusalem International Film Festival, the special project of the late Lia van Leer, held annually at the Jerusalem Cinematheque with the support of the Jerusalem Foundation. The festival features a dizzying array of films from all over the world, responding to the Israeli thirst for virtual travel and cultural diversity. But for me, the appeal was always the ability to see new Israeli films, many of which would have their world premiere there.
In addition, whenever I am in Israel, I make it a practice to stop at a favourite Jerusalem DVD store whose amazing staff know their stuff. They have pointed me to sleepers that deserve a wider audience, as well as promising new directors and remastered early gems. Back in Toronto, the movies are a way to stay connected to contemporary Israeli culture, up to date on slang and connected to the pulse of the country. And, of course, Jewish film festivals across Canada bring fine Israeli (and other) films to us.
This fascination impelled me to offer a new two-semester course at York University that focuses on the vibrant Israeli film industry. We looked primarily at feature films produced since Israel attained sovereign statehood. All in all, my students and I viewed, discussed and analyzed more than 40 movies.
Putting the course together provided me the impetus to look back on almost seven decades of movies. And listening to my students talk about the films often made me see them new ways. It was interesting to think about which age well and which don’t, in view of the changes in cinematic styles, esthetic sensibilities and social norms. What impresses me most is the sheer talent and daring of the Israeli film industry, from its early years until today. Israeli cinema has functioned as an important vehicle through which to explore questions of identity, immigration, conflict, war and peace, gender, ethnicity, the Holocaust, and the tensions between individual and collective values, offering a valuable – and often critical – window on Israeli society. Israeli directors have been willing to tackle difficult, controversial and complex issues, and Israeli audiences have been eager to see themselves in these challenging cinematic reflections. Perhaps the most magical aspect of Israeli movies is their place in reflecting and also maintaining a diverse and open society.
