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Friday July 11, 2008

Family and faith are put to the test in quiet haredi drama

by michael fox
correspondent

A gem of exquisite delicacy, the Israeli film “My Father My Lord” is an intimate, thoughtful study of a small haredi family.

The opening scene quietly informs us that the family rhythm has been thrown off by the loss of a child. The film then picks up a few days earlier, insinuating us into the family and propelling us all toward a profoundly tragic event.

It is as if writer-director David Volach — or God — has shared a confidence with us, and we feel both omniscient and strangely complicit as Rabbi Abraham, his wife, Esther, and their only child, Menachem, head unknowingly toward their rendezvous with destiny.

“My Father My Lord,” which opens Friday, July 11 in San Francisco and Berkeley, is a terrifically artful drama about religious devotion and the preciousness of life. A spare, precise film of few words, most of which are offered in prayer or song, it has something to say to all moviegoers regardless of their level of faith.

Rabbi Abraham (a gray-bearded Assi Dayan) pilots the family, and Esther (Sharon Ha Cohen Bar) manages the domestic tasks, but Menachem (Ilan Grif) is the pride and light of the household. One imagines that the older rabbi and his wife suffered a good deal of torment and soul-searching before Esther bore Menachem eight or nine years earlier.

Because we don’t know when or how Menachem will lose his life, everyday scenes like the boy navigating traffic or Esther slicing a piece of fruit in a moving car are imbued with a palpable tension. The intended effect is not to escalate our dread, as in a traditional thriller, but to force us to experience the act of living more fully.

By giving us a brief taste of Menachem’s absence in the opening sequence, the filmmaker cannily ensures that we never take the boy’s presence for granted during the next 70-odd minutes (it’s a short film). Some moviegoers may feel the presence and absence of God with the same visceral power, while for others that theme will register intellectually.

The filmmaker was born and raised in Jerusalem’s haredi community, but left when he was 25 to pursue a secular life in Tel Aviv. Yet “My Father My Lord” does

not play like an indictment of the ultra-Orthodox way of life, or repayment for a personal injury.

That might have less to do with the resolution of the plot than with the film’s measured tone and the love that is lavished on Menachem. (Abraham insists on an unwavering application of the commandments, but he’s no monster.)

“My Father My Lord” depicts the beauty and serenity of faith, as well as its capacity to inspire. Ultimately, though, the beliefs and practice of Orthodox Judaism play a role in Menachem’s demise.

It is unavoidable that viewers will bring their religious beliefs and biases to this film, and judge Abraham, Esther and Menachem through that prism.

But the great achievement of this movie is that it also impels us to reflect on our own lives and choices. Above all, without shock tactics or shmaltz, it makes us appreciate the gift of life.

“My Father My Lord” opens Friday, July 11 at the Lumiere in San Francisco and the Shattuck in Berkeley.

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