Original subtitles

THE FELDMANS

Mrs. Feldman?

Mr. Feldman.

I'm sorry. There's no easy way to say this.

Your son, Jonathan Feldman, was killed tonight in the line of duty.

I'm leaving you some pills.

Take them if you feel any physical pressure, suffocation,

a ringing in your ears or intense headaches.

I don't expect you to eat, but you must drink.

It's important to drink a lot of water.

Is this your phone?

You'll be notified of the funeral time later today.

You don't have to take care of anything.

The funeral officer will come by this afternoon,

and go over the procedure with you.

Here, Mr. Feldman. Have a drink.

Drink a bit.

Would you like us to help you notify anyone?

A brother, a sister or a friend?

Maybe have someone come over to help out?

I've set your phone to beep every hour.

It'll remind you to drink.

Now try to finish your water.

Mr. Feldman.

Slowly.

Slowly.

That's it.

A bit more.

Take it easy.

Take a deep breath.

It's 8:00 now. Your phone will beep at 9:00.

Then at 10:00 and so on. Drink a glass of water every hour.

Make sure you do that.

Mr. Feldman, I'm leaving you a note with a phone number...

for any issue that comes up, any question.

Or if you just need to talk to someone.

Don't hesitate to call.

The line is open 24/7.

Your wife will remain unconscious for four to five hours.

Someone will examine her when she wakes up.

And don't forget to drink.

Even if you're not thirsty.

That's it, Mr. Feldman. We'll be leaving now.

Are you sure you don't want us to help you inform your family?

Your brother, perhaps? Someone from your wife's family?

A friend from work?

If you change your mind, just call the number I gave you.

They'll help you let people know.

Our condolences, Mr. Feldman.

Michael...

Michael...

Hey, this is Alma. I can't pick up right now.

So either text me, or I'll call you back as soon as I can. Bye.

We have to let people know.

I don't want people coming by now.

DRINK A GLASS OF WATER

I'll tell Mom. You start making calls. I don't want anyone here when I get back.

Come on, Michael. Leave Mom out of this for now.

I need some air, Avigdor. I can't breathe.

Forward, forward, to the right and stop.

Back, back, to the left and stop.

Michael Feldman.

Tuck your shirt in.

Mom, something terrible has happened.

I came to tell you that Jonathan was killed.

You do remember Jonathan?

Of course I do.

Who's Jonathan?

Your son, the soldier.

So you understood what I told you?

Of course I did.

DRINK A GLASS OF WATER

What did you understand of what I said?

That Jonathan was killed.

Avigdor...

Avigdor...

Mr. Feldman.

Second Lieutenant Israel Schwartz of the Military Rabbinate.

My condolences.

I'm in charge of funeral arrangements. We need to coordinate some details,

and I need to brief you.

In private, if possible.

You can wait for me in the study.

"With deep sorrow", yes.

"We announce the passing of our dear son,

Jonathan Feldman, R.I.P., who has fallen..."

What?

No, I'm not the father. I'm his uncle.

Instead of "fallen", can we write "taken"?

"Taken from us prematurely", or "in the prime of his life"?

Ah, if it's a soldier, it has to be "fallen"...

No, just write it in the traditional way.

"Fallen in the line of duty", if that's customary.

The funeral will take place...

Hey, this is Alma. I can't pick up right now...

Enough!

Before we begin, I want to confirm a few details.

Does the deceased have a middle name?

No, just Jonathan Feldman.

"Staff Sergeant Jonathan..."

He's a corporal, not a staff sergeant.

He was promoted posthumously.

It's a traditional privilege for any fallen Israeli soldier.

Jonathan Feldman, son of Michael and... Daphna?

Then he should be a sergeant, not a staff sergeant.

He might be receiving a special honor.

So... the funeral is set for 3:00 p.m. tomorrow.

The command car with the coffin will arrive at 1:00 p.m.

I guess you know that IDF soldiers are buried in coffins.

At 1:20, a bus will arrive, and at 1:30, we'll head north toward the cemetery.

I'll lead the convoy in my jeep.

At 2:00 p.m., we'll arrive at the cemetery.

The coffin, wrapped in the national flag, will stand in the main hall

for 40 minutes.

By 2:45 at the very latest, we'll begin the rending ceremony,

and the rabbi will tear your shirt.

A small tear near your heart.

As written: "Jacob tore his garments and mourned his son Joseph"

when they mistook him for dead.

Genesis 37:34. Then you'll recite your first Mourner's Kaddish.

At 3:00 p.m., the funeral procession will travel to the military plot.

You could help carry the coffin, if you'd like, but I don't recommend it.

You'd be better off supporting your wife.

At the grave, we begin the ceremony of the burial of the coffin.

That's a difficult moment, especially for the mother.

For you too, of course. But after all, you know, we're men.

We'll begin the ceremony with a three-gun salute.

Then we'll recite "May he rest in peace", cover the coffin with dirt,

and say the "Righteous Judgment" prayer. You'll recite a second Mourner's Kaddish.

Then the eulogies.

That's also the moment for doing anything special, for example...

to recite a poem, or to tell a story about him.

That may say something about his character.

Maybe even something a little humorous.

You know, a little smile can help you cope...

and carry on.

Then we proceed to the laying of the wreaths.

Two female soldiers will lay four...

I want to see him.

See whom?

Jonathan.

- My son. - Mr. Feldman, that's... unnecessary.

What do you mean?

A father wants to see his son before burial. What exactly is unnecessary here?

I'm sorry, it's out of my hands...

Then whose hands is it in?

Mr. Feldman,

there are many ways to say goodbye. You could recite something.

Maybe something he wrote...

You could play a song that he liked. We have a great sound system.

Or get his buddies to sing it. You know how it is, there's always...

a friend who plays guitar.

Do you even have a body?

What?

I'm asking you whether there's anything left of him?

Is there going to be a body in the coffin, or are you going

to put bricks in there, just to make me feel I'm carrying...

WITH GREAT GRIEF AND DEEP SORROW,

WE ANNOUNCE THE PASSING OF OUR DEAR SON JONATHAN FELDMAN, R.I.P.

Are you all right?

I don't think they have a body.

He said that?

He won't let me see the body.

May you know no more grief, Mr. Feldman.

Don't obsess over this, Michael.

We're atheists. What difference does it make?

And how was it at Mom's? Did she even get what happened?

She got everything and didn't understand anything.

People want to come over and show their support.

And what are they going to say to me?

"Our condolences"?

They'll tell me what a special kid he was?

They'll say, "Look how strong Michael is, keeping it together"?

Don't insist on doing this alone.

This isn't some project of yours.

Why does she call me Avigdor?

Hello?

When is Jonathan's Hebrew birthday?

Where's his ID?

JONATHAN FELDMAN

Hi, this is Jonathan. I'm at the end of the world and there's no reception here.

But leave me a message, and I'll get back someday.

Hi, this is Jonathan. I'm at the end of the world and there's no reception here.

But leave me a message, and I'll get back someday.

Daphna!

Daphna...

Daphna, wake up.

Daphna, it's me.

Oh, Daphna, Daphna. Wake up! Get up, Daphna!

Mr. Feldman.

There's been a terrible mistake.

The soldier who was killed is named Jonathan Feldman, but he isn't your son.

It's a different Jonathan Feldman.

Your son is alive.

He's safe and sound.

Alma?

Hey, Dad. You called?

Dad?

Can you hear me?

Are you all right, Dad?

Get him up. Nice and slowly.

- Where's Jonathan? - Jonathan's fine.

Come on. Sit down.

Easy.

Daphna, wake up!

Jonathan's alive. Someone else died.

Jonathan is alive, Mr. Feldman. And he has no idea...

- Where is he? - He's with his unit...

- I want to see him. - We'll take care of it...

I want you to get him home immediately!

- Mr. Feldman. - Don't touch me!

What's with you, Michael? Calm down.

I'll calm down when I get my son.

You made me think that he was dead and that there was no body.

Who told you that?

What does that matter now? He's alive! It's over.

How can you be sure? Because they said so?

First they told me he's dead, now they tell me he's alive. Who are they anyway?

They don't even know where he is!

- Mr. Feldman, he's with his unit. - I didn't ask with whom, I asked where!

Mr. Feldman, you're suffering from an anxiety attack.

You listen to me!

You made a mistake!

The administration made a mistake, not us personally.

Your son is somewhere along the border, guarding a supply route.

Nothing combat-related, just a roadblock on some backroad.

Here, Mr. Feldman. Have some water.

It's all right, Michael.

Drink something. Calm down.

Stop saying that!

I'm calmer than you are.

Michael?

It isn't Jonathan. It's someone else.

They made a mistake. It's someone else.

That's it. It's over.

That's it.

Hey...

Enough.

Enough.

He's alive.

It's not him.

It's not him. It's someone else.

It's someone else.

Your son is fine, Mr. Feldman.

You don't have to worry anymore.

Where did you say he is?

At a roadblock, guarding a supply route.

Where exactly is that?

Near the border, a dead zone in the northern sector...

Location.

Give me a location.

I'm not a field officer, Mr. Feldman. I can't point out an exact location.

But I'll see to it that your son comes home as soon as possible.

So you haven't even started seeing to it?

Mr. Feldman, your son will be home as soon as possible...

How soon is "as soon as possible", exactly?

Because the "dead zone", and all that military mumbo jumbo of yours,

it can't possibly be more than a few hours away.

He can't stop everything...

Stop what? Are you on his side or mine?

I'm on your side. I just...

Stop touching me! Why are you always touching me?

Michael, you're right.

Mr. Feldman, you're having an anxiety attack.

But that doesn't mean he isn't right!

Stay out of this.

- Let me give you a tranquilizer... - To drug me like you drugged my wife?

You're still under the influence, that's why you're experiencing euphoria.

Listen to me, that's enough!

Listen to me.

I know you've been through things you haven't told me about. I know that.

These are your demons talking.

Not you.

Why are you talking to me as if I was crazy? Are you with them, too?

Listen, all that matters is that Jonathan's alive.

The rest doesn't matter.

He's alive!

Alive.

Please drop it.

Please, for my sake, just this once.

For me. Please.

We'll have them leave.

Okay? We'll stay here, only you and me.

We'll order take-out, get drunk.

You're stoned, Daphna.

You aren't yourself. They woke you up too soon.

I demand that you bring me back my son!

Not tomorrow, but immediately!

That's the least the army should do.

Just because I'm anxious doesn't mean I don't make sense.

My son was dead for five hours.

Suddenly he's alive, and you can't say where he is.

What's unreasonable about my request?

Tell me, what's so unreasonable?

Why am I even wasting my time...

Get out.

Get out, please.

He's in a psychotic state.

Keep an eye on him.

I'm sorry that this is your attitude.

But I'm not judging you, not in the state you're in.

"Psychotic state", my ass!

A bunch of limp dicks...

Losers. Nobodies.

What happened, Dad? You didn't pick up. I saw soldiers. Is Jonathan alright?

Everything's fine, Alma. I'm bringing Jonathan home. Right now.

It's all right.

- What are you doing? - Hold on.

- Don't do that. - Daphna!

- Hey, hey! Mom! - Don't do it!

Erez? Erez, it's Michael.

I need a favor. It's urgent.

Give me that!

Stop that now!

What's with you?

You said you had some friend.

An army general, Eitan something?

Someone who can solve anything with one phone call?

So this is what happened. This morning I was informed that...

Did you know that the foxtrot is actually a dance?

The foxtrot steps are really easy.

Watch this.

Step forward, forward, to the side and stop.

Back, back, to the side and stop.

Would you like another cigarette, darling?

Your eyes are filled with puppy-love refrain.

But I'm making music to... my heart.

When love goes astray

and the flame dies away...

you walk the lonesome night.

When dreams become old

and the thrill has gone cold...

you walk the lonesome night.

Yes, you walk in the lane

and you search for the lane where you share

in an old love affair.

And you pray that you'll find the little dreams

left behind.

But the lane is gone

and the trees are bare.

You can't help but cry

as the hours go by.

Because you know you can't make it right.

For when love is all through

there is nothing,

nothing to do...

but walk the lonesome night.

The container seems more tilted than it was yesterday.

CANNED MEAT LOAF

Eight seconds.

If it takes less time tomorrow, then the container is shifting sideways.

ONE LAST BEDTIME STORY

The night before I enlisted, my dad came into my room and told me a story.

He said I was officially no longer a child

and that this is going to be the last bedtime story.

He told me about his mom, my grandma.

She was a girl when the Nazis killed her father,

in Auschwitz, during the Holocaust.

Right before they killed him, he gave her an ancient, rare Hebrew Bible

that had been in our family for ten generations.

He said she should give it to her own son when he became a soldier,

and to "never, ever...

sell it."

Those were his last words.

Thirty years later, my dad was 13,

and the Bible that survived the Holocaust with my grandma

was on a little shelf in a Polish china cabinet

with her perfume and jewelry.

My dad knew all about the Bible,

that it was ancient, holy and rare,

that it had been her father's, our family's most precious object,

and we must never, ever sell it.

"When you become a soldier," she told him since he was little, I'll give it to you.

And you'll give it to your son when he's a soldier."

And that's me.

One day, coming home from school, my dad noticed a new store.

It sold secondhand books and magazines from all over the world.

Back then, there were no other stores of this kind, so my dad went inside.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a red magazine...

with a picture of a girl on the cover.

The January 1970 centerfold.

She had X's over her nipples, but he was blown away.

He'd never seen anything like it. He didn't even know that such a thing existed.

She smiled at him.

Mesmerized, he reached out to open it, going right to the centerfold.

So there she was: a double-page spread...

And get this: without X's over her nipples.

He managed to look at her for only a second, until the store owner suddenly appeared.

"Hey kid, no looking. 75 lira!

Buy it or get out."

Back then, 75 lira was a fortune for a kid.

He barely had five lira saved, so he left.

She haunted him.

He couldn't eat, drink, or think about anything else.

He jerked off all day like a junkie, fantasizing about his centerfold.

Miss January 1970, whom he saw for one second on Allenby St. in Tel Aviv.

Next morning, he waited for his mom to leave the house.

He found himself standing in front of her Polish

china cabinet and pulled out the Hebrew Bible.

He knew he was doing something terrible, but he couldn't help himself.

He felt himself being dragged like a zombie to Allenby St., to the store.

He saw himself hand over the Bible

and heard himself ask to trade it for the red magazine.

And just like it took him only a second

to take a look at the magazine and fall in love,

it took the owner a second to say, "Take your magazine and beat it."

So he took the magazine and shared it with all his friends.

Of course, he was king of the school that day.

But when he got it back, the pages were stuck together.

It was beyond repair.

Now get this:

My dad hands me that same magazine from 1970,

an original he bought online just for me, and says,

"Son, keep this magazine safe and give it to your son when he becomes a soldier.

And never, ever...

cum on the pages when you jerk off."

I think he was high.

I think him and my mom... smoke joints now and then.

And what did your grandma do when she found out?

I never asked.

Why not?

It was my dad's last bedtime story. I didn't want to spoil it.

If that's how he wants the story to end...

then that's how it ends.

Seven seconds.

One second less than yesterday.

We're sinking.

What is it we're fighting for here?

What's the purpose?

I didn't notice you fighting, Amikam.

Fighting a psychological war, sir.

Fighting the unknown.

And who's this "unknown" you're fighting?

If I knew who it was, sir,

I wouldn't call it "the unknown".

They're everywhere.

Even here, now.

Watching us.

Following us.

You and me, for instance.

We're being filmed right now.

That's right.

You heard me.

They are filming us.

And recording us.

If you don't know that by now, you'd better wake up, man.

Because everything you see here,

the mud, the roadblock...

It's all an illusion.

You're an illusion too.

Couldn't you have been some hot blonde...

a Pamela Anderson?

Or a Jessica Rabbit?

I bet Roger had one hell of a cock.

Why else would a super-hot chick go for a rabbit?

Jonathan, wake up! Jonathan!

Driver, get out slowly.

Now the lady.

Out of the car.

Go help her.

Let me see your purse.

We'll end up tipping over and sinking.

When it'll happen, it'll happen instantly.

I won't even have the chance to say, I told you so.

So I'll say it now.

Her dress is caught in the door.

Grenade!

Foxtrot to Cornelia: We blocked the sector route.

The road is sterilized. Repeat: The road is sterilized. Over.

Cornelia to Foxtrot: Rhino enters the puddle.

Confirm.

Rhino enters the puddle. Foxtrot here.

I repeat: Rhino is in the puddle.

The way I see it, you acted according to orders.

War is war. And we're at war here, let there be no doubt.

In war, things happen.

Whatever happened, happened.

I don't want to dig too deeply. If I did, you'd all pay the price.

As I see it...

this case was closed before it was even opened.

And if anyone has a problem with that, speak up right here and right now.

Hey, Eitan. What's up?

I see.

Which one of you is Jonathan Feldman?

Get in the supply vehicle. You're going home.

Do you know why they suddenly decided to send me home?

I'm just the driver, man.

ONE LAST BEDTIME STORY

Michael did a terrible thing.

He gave his mother a nervous breakdown.

She was committed.

Despite Michael's unusual appearance, he was popular among his classmates.

He became a combat officer.

And an honor student.

That made an imperssion on a young philosophy student.

And fell in love with her.

They got married.

Michael became a successful architect.

And raised a family.

In the mirror, he saw a handsome man.

He saw a strong man.

He gave himself a hard-on.

He thought nobody could see his X.

Only late at night, when he was fast asleep,

little Michael would come along and help him shed a tear.

Did you find what you wanted?

No.

I asked you not to come here without calling first.

Can you go now?

I thought maybe today...

I didn't want to see you today, even more than usual.

I'm asking you. Get up now, and get out.

Take the notebook, take whatever you want. Just get up and leave.

What?

I'm leaving now, Daphna.

I'm sorry.

Just tell me you're okay in there.

I thought that maybe today...

you know, we'd do something...

together.

I'm sorry I threw away the stuff in Jonathan's room.

I couldn't stand it, how things are losing my child's scent.

Did you start smoking again?

What? No.

Well, then, give me a cigarette.

Of all our apartments,

my favorite was the little rooftop one we rented by the beach.

You could taste the salt in the air.

I remember thinking I was going to be happy.

That it was just the beginning.

Then I found out I was pregnant.

I didn't want it.

I didn't.

Sometimes I'm sorry I didn't have that abortion.

The joy of having a child is something you start taking for granted.

It's not like you're walking around, feeling constantly high because of it.

But the pain of not having him is with me every day.

It's unbearable.

These thoughts, I can't take it...

I loved him more than I love Alma.

What a horrible thing to say.

Lately I'm haunted by horrific thoughts.

Shrinks would have a field day with me, right?

Why couldn't he have died when they first told us?

A normal death. A legitimate death.

Why did it have to be like a punishment? Or somebody taking revenge.

God is getting even with us.

With you, I mean. Sorry, I didn't mean to take credit for it.

You were the one who insisted on them sending him home immediately.

Knowing you didn't mean to kill your son is of no help to me.

I can't stand sleeping with you...

and living with you.

I could live with your wounds,

pretending not to see them, so I wouldn't embarrass you.

I leaned on you to make you feel strong, so you wouldn't feel that I see...

see that you're weak, that you have a secret.

That you're ashamed of yourself.

That your whole life: your office, us, the fancy car,

the "you can count on me" attitude you try so hard to display...

It's all there just to hide your secret, your weakness.

You're weak, Michael.

I see it. Alma sees it.

Jonathan saw it, too.

And Max?

Max feels it between his ribs.

He has constant internal bleeding where you keep kicking him. Did you know that?

I found that among his things.

Do you remember how to roll?

I tore that drawing out of his notebook.

It was the last one.

I think you're the bulldozer and I'm the car.

You're such a pro.

Some things you never forget.

Like the smell of the sea at our rooftop apartment.

Like my child's birthday.

I think it's the other way around:

You're the bulldozer and I'm the car.

Remember what the rabbi told us at the funeral?

Every fallen soldier turns into an angel.

That means Jonathan is an angel...

a sweet angel that all the fairies fight over.

He's probably partying right now, having a spiritual multi-orgasm.

Which reminds me, we're invited to a ceremony at the Ministry of Defense.

They've engraved his name on some wall with the other fallen soldiers.

Yes, that's what they call them.

So, you want to hear?

"You're hereby invited to the unveiling ceremony in honor of your son,

Sgt. Jonathan Feldman, R.I.P, fallen in the line of duty..."

"Fallen", right? He hasn't died, he wasn't killed. God forbid!

He fell. Barely got a scratch!

On the program:

a speech by a Defense Ministry rep, a moment of silence,

the unveiling,

the national anthem... Let's not forget that!

And - get this - coffee and cake.

They're serving refreshments!

Wait, wait, wait. Hang on.

Mom, I'm in a real hurry! Can you make me a sandwich?

Oh, no. A sandwich now?

His text says: "I'm at Nanuchka. You coming?"

I'll call you back.

Hey.

Hi, Alma.

Hey, Dad.

You two are smoking again.

Don't be silly.

- Of course not. - Not at all.

No.

You smoked weed!

- No way! - Weed?

You smoked and now you've got the munchies.

Want some cake?

Come here.

What?

Good?

So... I have to run.

You're beautiful when you're together.

Bye.

Bye...

When the war ended, we drove home in a convoy.

A long narrow road. I was in the lead, I was the commander.

Suddenly I pulled over and signaled to the vehicle behind me to drive around

and to take the lead.

I still don't know why I did it, but a few seconds later,

he drove over a landmine and blew up.

Everyone was screaming, yelling that they were burning alive.

I froze, didn't have the courage to get close.

They screamed for a few minutes. I just wanted them to die already.

I couldn't stand their screaming.

They died eventually.

But that thought haunted me, Daphna.

I woke up with it every morning, I went to bed with it.

Why did I do it? Why did I send him ahead to die in my place?

Then you got pregnant.

I couldn't let you give Jonathan up.

It was like a sign for me.

Like God having forgiven me, like my nightmare was over.

The last time I saw Jonathan was when I dropped him off at the bus station.

He asked me if he could drive, and I let him.

Instead of enjoying my son's driving, I sat there answering emails.

I had no way of understanding...

how much joy there is

in those moments between home and the bus station.

You know...

there's a dance...

that goes like this.

Forward, forward...

to the right and stop.

Back, back...

to the left and stop.

Forward, forward,

to the right and stop.

Back, back,

to the left and stop.

You get it?

No matter where you go...

you always end up at the same starting point.

Like this.

It's simple.

Back, back, to the left and stop.

Forward, forward, to the right and stop.