When the woeful news of escalating hostilities in Israel, Gaza and Lebanon broke a few weeks ago, I was deeply saddened and concerned for all who are affected by the renewed violence. As director of the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival, which was about to open, I also became troubled from a professional standpoint.
Amidst the grim images of rockets raining down on civilian targets and of bombs destroying vital infrastructure, even the very word “festival” can seem inappropriate, if not downright trivial.
After all, while our colleagues, friends and relatives on every side of this protracted dispute are suffering so acutely, what purpose do we serve, in the comfort of our cinemas, engaging in our annual exploration of Jewish identity and the fruits of Jewish culture? What can a fictional drama say to us when we are glued to the nightly news? Why listen to a filmmaker when we need to hear from diplomats, negotiators, peacemakers?
As I wrestled with these questions, I thought about three scenes from “Free Zone,” a new film by the noted and often controversial Israeli director Amos Gitai. The film is shot almost entirely in Jordan — one of, if not the only modern Israeli feature film ever to have been produced there.
At one point a Palestinian businesswoman, played by Hiam Abbass (a terrific Palestinian actress), turns to her Israeli counterpart (the equally talented Hanna Laslo) and says, “It’s a pity Israelis don’t speak Arabic like Palestinians speak Hebrew. If they do, I think perhaps things will change.” Later, the Israeli woman frantically replies on a cell phone call to the Palestinian woman, “I speak Arabic, I speak English. What language are we speaking?” And later she implores, “Can you help me?”
These scenes reminded me why we are showing “Free Zone,” and why we have brought Gitai to the festival: Sometimes, in the absence of sane voices among statesmen and politicians, we turn to artists for a glimpse of what is possible.
It is precisely when we feel inundated by blaring headlines and relentless 30-second news updates that we hunger for the long view that art can provide. We gather as a community, not only in synagogues or mosques or town halls but, yes, in theaters, to explore together our own deepest concerns, to be reminded of the truly important questions. “What language are we speaking?” “Can you help me?”
We hear them inflected by writers, directors, poets and actors. We question, we argue, we challenge the artists as they challenge us, we find common cause with our neighbors, we may even become confused or upset. But we do gather, before the flickering screen, to gain some sense of one another, a necessary first step in the simple act of getting along.
I am not so naïve as to think that film, or any art, will broker peace between Israel and her Arab neighbors. But I am not so cynical as to doubt that a better peace, and a lasting one, will only be achieved when we know each other’s stories and we re-examine our own. I encourage you to attend the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival, the Arab Film Festival in September and the myriad other culturally specific film offerings we are so fortunate to have in the Bay Area.
We go to the movies in part to escape, but more precisely to be taken somewhere with fellow travelers. In the best cases a film journey — whether a comic flight, a dramatic roller-coaster ride or a documentary immersion into a faraway place — brings us home changed. When the lights come up, the world looks slightly different. And right now, a new perspective on our broken world can only be considered a blessing.
Peter L. Stein is the executive director of the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival.