Kadosh

Judging from the number of comments, KADOSH seems to have received more international exposure than many better Israeli films have. I would hate to think that the reason is that KADOSH encourages the audience to feel superior to the Orthodox Jews, because as other comments have pointed out, the film misrepresents the lifestyle of Orthodox Jews in both big ways and small. I understand there is a tiny industry of ultra-Orthodox Jewish video dramas in Israel, and it would be interesting to see in contrast how these people portray themselves; but few outsiders are likely ever to see those productions because of their commercial appeal is nil. The portrayal of the ultra-Orthodox is left to well-intentioned distortions like THE SECRETS (a more recent Israeli film) and to viciously intended distortions like this one, in which the camera moves from a dead body to a shelf of Jewish books and a Jewish candelabrum as if to say "The blame lies here."

Gritty, realistic indictment of religious fanaticism among the ultra-orthodox Chasidic Jews of the Mea Shearim section of Jerusalem, a place so extreme that women are stoned for daring to go sleeveless, cars stoned if driven on the sabbath. The film's exceptionally deliberate, slow pacing and ascetic economy steadily build an unbroken, smoldering, muted intensity, which, along with the fact that it offers a rare, highly detailed glimpse into an insular world, is probably why this modest production was the first from Israel to be accepted for screening at Cannes in 25 years.

The dramatic structure is simple, symmetric: two sisters, one forced out of, the other into marriage, dramatize the severe oppression of this fundamentalist sect. Woman's only function is to procreate, to furnish the legions who will overrun the sect's enemies. In his morning devotions the husband thanks god for not making him a woman. Kadosh, which means sacred or holy, is here used scathingly, bitterly ironically.

The personal needs of the individual--love, privacy, self-determination--are pitted against the demands of society, an old theme. Though this particular sect is unusual, downright medieval, in its absolute adherence to the letter of the law, it is not unlike in kind, if not degree, fundamentalism everywhere else. All fundamentalists view sex with suspicion and dread, all strive to restrict it. Femininity is uniformly degraded, regarded as inherently unclean, the devil's work.

The film's only misstep, the death, occurs at the very end, but it weakens the credibility of everything that preceded it. Though its justice is poetic, its unlikelihood and obvious appeal to emotion belie the restrained realism of the rest of the film, jumping out like an editorial intrusion in a factual documentary, striking as false a note as magic realism would have in this context. It made wonder about the politics and intent of writer-director Gitai.

The majority of Israeli's do not cast a dispassionate eye on their Chasidic brethren. The ultra-orthodox wield a disproportionate power over the life of Israel by virtue of their crucial swing vote in a fragmented multiparty system. Just as no Republican can hope to secure a presidential nomination without the backing of the Christian Right, even though it accounts for only 15% of the GOP, so to no Prime Minister can be elected in Israel without the support of the fundamentalists of Mea Shearim. Because of this they are able to inflict on the nonsectarian majority their sectarian laws concerning the observance of the sabbath, dietary restrictions, divorce, etc., in addition to refusing to participate in the universal military draft. The divisions are deep and rancorous. The purposes of Kadosh may be overly specific, vengeful, political. Though opposite, it may be as drastic as what it condemns. The Chasids, particularly the Rabbi and groom-to-be, are portrayed as authoritarian ogres.

Whatever its faults, however, at least it deals with fundamentalism on a more level playing field than two fundamentalist films released recently, The Straight Story and Color of Paradise, which by no small coincidence were shown in the very same theater. Unlike the latter two, a least it doesn't hold out false promises, hide a sinister heart behind a smiling face. Not surprisingly, the theater was practically empty, as opposed to being nearly full for the other two, escapist, vehicles. (If I were a fundamentalist, mightn't it be too easy to deride film as corrupt, the enjoyment of Philistines?)

There are some thoughtful and well-written reviews both at Amazon and the IMDb and elsewhere in which it is claimed that the type of Jewish Orthodoxy presented here is not accurate. There are quibbles about the unnatural way that Meir puts on his garments. There is criticism of the selection of prayers recited, especially Meir giving thanks that he was not born a woman.

Moreover, there is the assertion that orthodox Judaism does NOT require that a man repudiate his wife after ten years of marriage even though she may be barren. Furthermore, the character of Yossef is said not to be typical of orthodox Jewish men since he takes his wife sexually without love or tenderness, that he hits her when angry, and goes about the streets of Israel with a loudspeaker hawking his religious point of view.

First, it is a shame (if true) that the way Meir dressed and recited his morning prayers was inaccurate, because such details can easily be made accurate with some research. Certainly director Amos Gitai had access to many orthodox people who could have helped him. Putting that aside, the artistic point of the opening scene was to immerse the viewer into a world based on religious beliefs and practices that are strikingly different from the secular world of today. He also wanted to introduce his theme, which is that women in Orthodox Judaism, as in the other two great religions of the Middle East, in their fundamentalist interpretations--this bears repeating: in their fundamentalist interpretations--are not on an equal level with men.

Certainly in a realistic sense, Meir, since he dearly loves his wife, would have chosen something else to recite. However, I think we can give Gitai some artistic license here. The fact that such a prayer exits in the Jewish canon is not to be denied.

Second, the film does NOT claim that Orthodox Judaism requires that a man repudiate his wife after ten years of childless marriage. Instead it makes the very strong point that, from the point of view of Orthodox Judaism, such a woman is not fulfilling her role in society, and that there will be people outside the marriage who will try to persuade him to abandon her. Gitai's screenplay contains several textual pronouncements to that effect. The fact that Meir is torn between his love for his wife and his love for his religion is really the point. How he resolves that dilemma is an individual choice, and that is what the film shows.

As for the unflattering character of Yossef, whom Rivka's sister Malka is persuaded to marry (not forced, mind you, but persuaded) he is a foil and a counterpoint for the loving and deeply religious Meir. The fact that he is not a poster boy for Orthodox Judaism is not a valid criticism of the film, since all religions have their black sheep.

I think a fairer criticism of the film can be made by addressing the question of, was it entertaining and/or a work of art?

Here I have mixed feelings. Certainly the acting was excellent, and the theme a worthy one. Gitai's desire to show the underlying similarities among the conservative expressions of all three Abrahamic religions, through their shared patriarchal attitudes toward women and their estrangement from the postmodern world, was very well taken and appropriate. Where I think Gitai failed as film maker is in his inability to be completely fair to the orthodox way of life--his failure to show the joys as well as the sorrows of its everyday life which would help outsiders to understand why people adhere to such a way of life.

I also think that the film could have been better edited. In the documentary about how the film was made we see scenes that were cut that I think should have been retained, especially the scene in which the omelette was made and the scene in which the mother critiques the life choices her three daughters have made. Instead we have some scenes that ran too long. It is a fine technique that Gitai sometimes employs of letting the silence speak for the characters, of holding the camera on the scene to allow the audience to reflect and then to reflect again. However, I think this can be overdone and was overdone, and that judicious cutting of some of the scenes would have strengthened the movie.

Bottom line: a slow polemic of a movie that nonetheless is worth seeing because of the importance and timeliness of its theme, the originality of some of the techniques, and the fine acting, especially by Yael Abecassis who played Rivka and Meital Barda who played Malka.

One more point: yellow subtitles, please!

(Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon!)

Some have called this movie anti-religious, other argue that it shows Israel is a real democracy, financing movies which criticize all the aspects of its society, probably in a more abstruse way than European cinema today. More than the controversies and even the story, I remember the actors' talent. Especially Meital Berdah. In the movie, she plays the role of Yaël Abecassis' sister. I would think that in real life, she's Jennifer Connelly's sister. She has the same worrying strength on screen, the same charisma. When Connelly leaves her nightmares in Requeim For A Dream, we're both afraid and attracted by her eyes. The feeling is shared when Berdah leaves her neighborhood for a better life, trying to let a bitter marital experience slide, washed down the drinks of lowlifes who hang around the bar where her lover works.

I saw Kadosh in New York last fall and was deeply moved by it. I have no personal experience of orthodox Judaism, but have long been fascinated by its ideas and rituals; most of my "knowledge" comes from reading I B Singer, which may be more folkloric and colorful than accurate. I'm no fan of orthodoxy in any form, and this film only strengthened my feelings. I was weeping for both Malka and Rivka by the end--two strong, strongly emotional characters brought to grief by the strictures of their religion. It's really interesting to read the earlier comments on this page--I am so unfamiliar with the orthodox world, and was so gripped by the sheer emotional wallop of the story, that perhaps I was shaken from my usual critical stance. I hope to to see the film again