Original subtitles

AHED'S KNEE

I'm Ahed Tamimi.

Born on January 31, 2001, in Nabi Saleh, Palestine.

At age 16, I was sent to jail for slapping a soldier.

This is my knee.

Your tweet, Mr. Smotrich!

I am very sad that Ahed Tamimi

is simply put under house arrest.

She should have gotten a bullet,

in her kneecap, at least.

That would put her under house arrest

for the rest of her life.

Now I sing?

Eliya Ziv.

16 and a half, Glory Agency.

I'm Bezalel Smotrich.

Minister, member of Parliament,

leader of The Jewish Home.

My childhood.

Your father?

In an Israeli jail.

- His sister? - Shot dead by a policewoman.

- His brother-in-law? - Shot dead by a soldier.

- His cousin? - Shot dead by a soldier.

His nephew?

Shot dead a settler.

Your mother?

I'm 16.

Your mother!

With me in an Israeli jail.

Louder.

Your female cousin?

With us in jail.

The teen challenging Israel in court

Your male cousin?

Shot in the head by a soldier. Then imprisoned.

Where is victory?

In my sacrifice.

And liberation?

Liberation?

You keep silent.

I am very sad that Ahed Tamimi...

Smotrich!

This is your tweet.

You saw Ahed on TV.

It drove you nuts.

I am deeply saddened.

She should've received a bullet...

In her kneecap, at least.

Again!

Thrilled, like a bridegroom.

I'm Bezalel Smotrich.

What did I want?

One bullet in her kneecap.

Here.

Now we smash your knee.

Am I interrupting?

Not at all.

Y.

Filmmaker and video artist. Nice to meet you.

Maayan. Pilot on the Tel Aviv-Sapir, Arava route.

You're shooting a film?

No.

I have a screening of a movie I made.

In Sapir.

At the public library, I think.

I was filming a...

They're combat troops.

On a mission. Something in Gaza.

I'm shooting something personal for someone.

The wing's in the shot.

Can I film from the cockpit?

I won't get you in trouble?

Take a seat.

Thanks.

You made any movies I've heard of?

Just a sec.

Hi.

I hope you had a better night.

I made it to the Arava.

Have a good day.

Love you.

Hello. I'm Yahalom.

Yahalom?

Yahalom David.

Deputy director, Libraries Division, Ministry of Culture.

Right, Yahalom.

Emails Yahalom.

I pictured you differently.

You had a good flight?

All good? Not too bumpy?

It beats four hours on a bus.

You didn't get sick?

No.

I didn't expect to see you. I thought you were in an office

in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv.

Yes, we're based in Jerusalem at the Ministry.

But I came.

I grew up here.

Well, not here exactly.

A village nearby.

But all the local kids went to high school here.

Some grades had practically no students.

Any idea of Arava's population?

No.

I bet you never came.

No, I'm from Tel Aviv.

Born and raised?

Yes.

Awesome.

I did my military service on the Syria-Lebanon border.

When we occupied Lebanon.

I'm old.

So, Arava's population?

You'll never guess.

50,000.

3,000.

3,000 people, that's all.

Incredible. As many as my street.

So there's no one here.

My family lives here.

Parents, some brothers and sisters.

I can see my family and attend your event.

I must admit I really love your films.

Actually, I'm happy to admit it.

You've seen them?

I wouldn't say so otherwise.

Thanks.

Shall we go in?

See your flat?

Nice.

I'm glad you like it. You don't have to be polite.

Any issues, just let me know.

It's an honor for Sapir and the Arava,

and me personally, to have you here.

Thanks.

Water?

I imagined someone older, from your emails.

The way I phrase things? People say that.

And your job.

Deputy director, division of public libraries...

Deputy director, libraries division, Ministry of Culture.

I started out running the library where the screening is this evening.

My evening ended in bed.

It's at five, remember.

Okay?

How did you come to run a library?

You want to know?

It's not much of a story.

I was a big reader as a kid.

All kinds of books, anything I could find.

No idea where I got it from.

My parents didn't read much. The paper occasionally.

But hardly ever.

My siblings read...

WhatsApp messages.

And you? Directing?

Never mind. Keep going.

Father, an art critic. Mother, a playwright and screenwriter.

Aged 4, I was drawing the steps in Battleship Potemkin.

Or the knights in Alexander Nevsky.

You don't know them.

They're films by a Russian director,

a radical genius and fervent communist, gagged by Stalin.

You're right, I don't know them.

I'll look them up.

A Russian filmmaker and communist.

Alexander Nevsky?

Yes.

Keep going.

When they opened Arava's first library here,

I'd just finished military service.

They were hiring a library director but I had to do everything.

Manager, librarian, cleaner too.

Yes, cleaning.

After 3-4 years, our budget was increased.

I'd got people reading

or just visiting the library,

looking at book covers, wondering,

"What's this one about?"

They gave me an intern.

And I became director of libraries, Arava region.

Then the new government introduced its reforms.

You must know the new chief of staff,

always on TV, not the silent type.

Don't know her.

She called a meeting and told us,

"It's you who decide what people consume."

I detest people using "consume" for books and films.

Then she said,

"You'll shape Israelis' culture, beliefs and thoughts,

"what they find beautiful or ugly."

"Basically, who they are."

Suddenly, it seemed huge.

Am I boring you, blabbing away?

No, I'll just freshen up.

A horrible night's sleep.

You want to take a nap?

Who stayed here last?

No idea.

Not an artist.

What sign are you?

Me?

I'm a spring baby.

Aries.

Same here.

You know what they say about Aries...

Keep going, Yahalom.

Two years ago, something happened you may have heard about.

The minister and director had a falling out.

I've no idea...

Actually, I have a good idea.

As you can imagine.

Let's just say it was over an artwork dealing with...

Not a film, not a book...

The director was fired.

It's trendy to recruit from the regions

and I impressed them.

So I headed to Jerusalem.

To the Ministry.

My parents were sad that I was leaving Arava.

They must be proud.

Parents.

I saw that you work with your mom.

That's so moving.

She could have come.

Well...

I'll be going. Pickup at 4:20?

There's the form...

I don't have it with me.

The library should have sent it to you to sign.

Did you sign it?

I settled money stuff with the girl here.

Talia.

Sorry, I tried, but they refuse to cover your expenses.

For me, it's a no-brainer for a director like you.

Anyway, on the form, you specify your topic and sign.

It commits you to addressing a specific subject.

I don't understand.

How can I put it?

There's a list of topics to choose from.

A diverse list.

You check topics you'll discuss, and you can add others.

You're supposed to have signed it,

for us to approve the screening.

Otherwise, we can't pay you.

What kind of topics?

Lots. I'll bring it tonight.

Such as?

The forces of nature, the sea.

Jewish immigration, diversity, differences in society.

Sure, they overlap.

Judaism, family...

Love?

I guess. We can add it.

And sex?

And the abject dumbing-down of this country,

which revels in its own stupidity?

That's actually what tonight's movie is about.

Look, it's not...

I'm not proud of these forms.

Keep going.

Actually, I'm embarrassed.

They're going way further than before.

They meddle in everything,

so only their pet projects get exposure.

They don't like other people's opinions.

No.

Fine.

Tonight, I'll bring the form so...

And everyone else?

Directors? Writers? Lecturers?

What?

They sign?

I haven't seen anyone who didn't.

I won't sleep.

Don't feel like it.

Is there anything to see?

For sure.

I didn't want to pester you

but the Arava is incredible!

Sand and more sand to get lost in.

I get carried away. The must-see is 15 mins away.

It's like a big crevasse.

Outside, head for the big dune.

Go right 700 meters. I mean, go east.

We played there as kids.

The recent deluge filled it up, totally flooded it.

Animals drowned, there may be skeletons.

I never saw it so full. It's extraordinary, unprecedented!

A giant pool in the desert!

A miracle.

Hi.

Thanks for calling back.

No problem.

How are you?

Not great, you know.

I'm getting divorced.

Yeah, you said.

Even when feelings have gone, it's not easy.

Everything's sad.

Dividing up an apartment and everything.

Time erased.

Not erased. Memories remain.

But with the resentment, I don't trust my own memories anymore.

Where are you?

I'm in a...

village called Sapir, in the Arava.

It pays more than the Cinematheque. Out in the desert. Ever been?

I did my army...

Guess Arava's population.

5,000?

Not bad!

I started casting this weird project,

The Knee of Ahed Tamimi.

Because of Smotrich.

Who said we should cut off her leg?

A bullet in the knee.

He was sad she wasn't shot in the knee.

So she'd stay home all her life.

It's still hazy, some kind of video art.

What do I know about video art?

It's experimental? You have funding?

Not yet.

Not yet?

The way things are going, beat it to Paris or New York.

In your case, Paris.

That's why I'm calling.

I'm here for a screening,

and there's this girl, Yahalom,

deputy director of libraries at the Ministry.

I know it sounds...

But with all that's going on,

libraries are becoming cultural hubs,

not just for writers.

I know, there was that whole censorship story.

She was appointed just after. She's a kid from around here.

So, she and her boss,

whoever he or she may be,

on instructions from the minister,

decide which films, books and plays are seen in Israel,

and which...

writers, directors or artists appear, or stay home.

The financial impact is obvious.

Hitting us in the wallet, at the supermarket,

making us buy the cheapest brands,

afraid to check our bank balance.

I got her life story. She's a talker.

And lovely, by the way.

Not exactly sophisticated

but very moved by art.

How can you get mad at someone who fights in 50°C heat

for folks to read books?

Then she brings up this form,

on which you choose your topic from a prepared list.

There are no other options.

No mention of occupation, conflict, or anything.

What is there?

Guess.

Diversity, the army, Jewish history...

Ethnic diversity, religion,

tolerance, Judaism and the diaspora, Jewish holidays,

our national history...

wars, the Holocaust,

anti-Semitism, the Torah, Judaism,

family, father-son, mother-daughter, friends, love,

army, flag, nation.

All right.

Besides that, nothing.

The country's finished.

The amazing thing is, this librarian agrees with us.

She says that the Ministry

wants control over every song, play or movie.

Anyone who dissents is crushed.

And she's from the Ministry,

taking orders from the minister and his vile chief of staff.

- Sure. - We're lost.

For her to say,

"We, Israel's Ministry of Culture, are waging war on art,"

that cannot be erased.

Ever.

Maybe there'll be a miracle.

Right.

You'll publish it?

Okay.

You're not scared?

Sure, but let's be brave.

Worst-case, it's not like the press pays well now.

You'll get her to talk and tape her?

Saying what?

As much as possible.

You can help her.

I'll do it.

Cool.

Film her, too?

Audio will do.

You'll send it tonight?

After the screening.

Happy screening.

Happy divorce.

Mom...

You good? Feeling okay?

How's your breathing? Your back?

I'm in the Arava.

I started casting The Knee of Ahed Tamimi.

It filled me with doubt.

Now I'm in the desert.

They asked why you didn't come.

I'm showing you their wonder.

A big crevasse filled by floods that killed humans and animals.

A good place to die.

See it, Mom?

They told me, "It's a miracle!"

A miracle.

Excuse me, where's the restaurant?

There!

Thanks!

Hello.

Excuse me...

Who are you?

Who are you?

When are you singing?

Day after tomorrow.

I'll be gone.

What's your name?

We do covers.

Great name.

Hi, is this Y?

Yes.

I'm Bar, the actress from the audition earlier.

For Ahed Tamimi.

Sorry to call. Super unprofessional, I know.

I got your number from Hila, the casting director.

She told me not to tell you.

She also thought it was super good today.

Fine.

I just need to say, I feel it's me.

Ahed is me.

I'll go as deep as I can.

Really, I'll...

Sorry.

I read stuff online

and I realized all we did to her.

It broke my heart. Really.

I feel I can go

as deep as you want me to go. Really.

I saw a YouTube video of her with her cousin, who's so pretty.

Actually, Ahed's really pretty, too,

and I felt so inspired. It was so...

What about your father?

No, it's no problem.

Really. He's fine with it.

I read Ahed's scenes to him earlier.

Only him. He won't tell anyone.

I felt so emotional.

So emotional.

My voice was shaking.

I could hardly speak. The words wouldn't come out.

My father said,

"Go on, go on, it's beautiful!"

I sensed that he also...

That my father also...

had goosebumps too.

Really.

His eyes

were moist.

I'd never seen him like that.

I started crying...

Ahed Tamimi doesn't cry.

You were good. We'll see.

Hey, sweetie. Sorry, I was at a funeral.

How did the auditions go?

You're in Tel Aviv?

I read what you sent about The Knee of...

Obviously, count me in. Come hell or high water!

But your project's still...

taking shape.

Do you plan to shoot in Tel Aviv?

The real location in the territories will be tricky.

She's Palestin...

Anyway, we'll need the Army's permission.

Or you shoot in Tel Aviv, everybody unpaid, including you.

That could work,

but we'll all be in trouble if word gets out.

We'll come up with something for when she's doing math

in her cell for her exams.

Somewhere small, no windows, like my parking garage.

But if you want the arrest and her cousin's funeral,

we'll need to find some funding.

What if you show the soldier's point of view?

The soldier who clashes with her.

You wanted to make it personal, right?

Yahalom told me a lot about you.

Library Yahalom?

Our Yahalom.

I married a childhood friend of hers.

Yahalom introduced us.

No...

Thanks.

Despite our age difference.

Any idea of Yahalom's age?

No.

Very young.

She brings lots of shows here.

Last week, the guy who sings

I'll head home on the gravel road.

- Know him. - Bearded guy.

And the actor who went religious

and started singing.

She's done a great job advertising your screening.

Good.

Usually, people come.

What a coincidence.

This song's in my movie.

That's the film's ending.

Vulgarity's victory march.

Stop for her.

Ayalot.

Sapir?

We're going to a movie.

So, what do you do?

I install solar panels.

Here, there's not many people but lots of sunshine.

Competition's fierce.

All of Arava is doing solar now.

After the bell pepper trauma.

Sure. Arava is bell peppers.

It was. In the past.

Summer starts early here.

Two months before Holland, one month before Spain.

The fleshiest peppers in the world.

We all grew them.

World champions of peppers!

You're with me?

Yes, it's interesting.

That's when it hit.

Global warming.

Suddenly, our sun's blazing on Spanish peppers.

We lost the Russian market.

Fields of peppers rotting in the sun.

Worthless.

We all went bankrupt.

Everything belongs to the banks.

We're slaves.

That drives people to suicide.

So I started working with bees.

Apiculture?

I used to make honey, as a hobby.

Then I got tendinitis in this shoulder.

Tried everything, nothing worked.

Pain...

So bad I couldn't speak.

My wife happened to watch a program about bee poison.

No, not poison.

The stinger.

The venom.

As a cure.

I took a bee from the hive and pressed it on my shoulder.

It didn't want to sting me.

I kept squeezing it with two fingers.

It had no choice.

Sting!

Twenty bees.

Since then,

nothing.

So I'm researching the field of bee venom

for healing purposes.

Yes.

They say it works for many different conditions.

Infections, viral diseases,

cancer...

What do they say about cancer?

There are firsthand accounts.

My mother has cancer.

I'm sorry, man.

Now, lots of people recover.

What kind does she have?

Lungs.

Miracles happen.

Hey.

Filmmaker

in the Arava.

They're showing a film I made.

It premiered in Berlin!

Why no photo?

I am

kind of famous.

And you? Why not your face?

I'm married

Interesting!

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Come on!

8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

All good?

Sure.

Narkis, my little sister.

She's shy.

Don't be shy, Narkis.

I'm sorry,

not many people came.

They complain they're bored,

but when something's on, they stay in bed.

They live like plants.

I brought my family as backup.

That's our mother.

Dad behind her, with the citrus platter.

Plus uncles and aunts.

Our brother maybe.

How are you?

Excuse me.

What is the film's rating?

Meaning?

The minimum age allowed?

In Israel, 16. In France, 12.

The youngest is 14. It's fine.

If you have a sweet tooth, try my aunt's apricot cake.

Spectacular.

She's our mom's cousin,

but we call her Auntie.

Auntie...

Take this to your grave!

Is a better cook than Mom.

My old music teacher came.

I used to play piano.

- Weddings? - Classical.

Only me in the village. I was no good but I persevered.

I gave a recital. Rachmaninoff.

I was terrible.

Thank you for the warm welcome.

This film has gone around the world, taking me with it,

but it's my first time in the Arava.

Maybe not the last.

All you're about to see is true.

All the events took place.

All the characters existed.

The repetitive aspect is taken from life.

Just pay attention to the style.

See you afterward for a session of questions and answers.

Although there are no answers.

With you?

Y, sorry...

I'll be moderating.

Good.

My mother, who writes my movies with me...

She's a screenwriter.

She always says,

"At the end, geography wins."

That reminds me of the Arava.

She says it about Israel.

Not necessarily in a good way.

What do I do during the film?

You're not staying?

I love my films but I can't watch them.

I'll come outside with you.

I've seen it twice.

I had some questions about the movie.

It's so unpredictable.

Innovative.

Innovative, I don't know.

But thanks.

It's a film

that reinvents the genre.

The genre?

I'm not so sure.

Where do you get your ideas?

Before, from the wonder of the night.

Now, from the foul taste of morning.

Remind me to get a shot before sunset.

If you forget, I have millions of all these cliffs.

I'd like to tell you a story.

A story no one ever told.

I love secrets.

It's complicated. I'll try to keep it short.

At the end, you'll get why I'm telling it. Me too.

I did my military service on a mountaintop

on the Syria-Lebanon border.

When we occupied Lebanon.

Mom asked me to say I was gay.

Back then, homosexuals were exempted.

I'm not gay. Unfortunately, perhaps.

Wronged by women?

I wanted to be a hero, dreamed of a commando unit.

A health issue disqualified me.

It broke my heart.

No later failure in movies hurt so much.

Anyway, keep it short.

I wound up in an intelligence unit.

15 of us. Only men, no women.

None. Ever.

Hearing the voice of the plump secretary of a general dropping in,

we'd charge into the corridor.

We craved women and we'll never be sated.

Every two weeks,

on holy Friday,

if there was no emergency or alert, we would dance.

Ten guys in an empty room.

And a photo of the Dead Sea on the wall!

We're the murderers of ancient times!

We're the empire of eternity! The kingdom!

We lived in burrows in the mountain.

We'd sworn to protect pointless secrets.

I arrived at the same time as...

Damn! Ants in winter!

At the same time as this other soldier.

You see? I'd asked for a dangerous posting.

I was looking for adventure.

I felt like I was a cowboy.

I've no idea how he ended up there.

Just before, a guy jumped to his death from an antenna tower.

Three months later,

the cook cut his own throat with a razor, screaming,

"Mom! I'm building the Temple!"

Anyway, keep it short.

As new recruits, obviously we got hazed.

Standard humiliations.

Licking armpits, earlobes, boot soles, belly buttons.

Two guys hold you, a third rams his dick in your ear.

Keep it short.

It was tense with the Syrians.

Later, it turned out, it was a complete fraud.

A Mossad agent dreamed up a war to keep his job.

Most likely, he felt old and irrelevant,

wanted to show he could still do something big.

Like a war.

I get that.

Come on!

Again!

20,000 Syrian rifles trained on us around the clock.

Or so we were led to believe.

The Syrian army was our worst nightmare. Commandos, gruesome torture...

Chairs

that snap your spine vertebra by vertebra.

You understand?

It was long ago,

well before their civil war and all that.

I'm labeled a young director but I'm old.

Keep it short.

The evening of our arrival

they called the two newbies

to one of the bunkers.

We crawled through narrow tunnels.

We were sad and lost.

Especially him.

Ever hear of the singing officer?

No.

Sounds like a book.

The singing officer.

An intelligence officer during the Yom Kippur war,

captured by the Syrians.

He had a phenomenal memory.

I did too, but time shows no mercy.

Legend has it, when they pressed an empty pistol to his head,

he cracked, spilled all our secrets.

He showed off with his memory, enjoyed impressing them.

Keep it short.

On his return, he was accused of treason.

At a remembrance ceremony, someone spat in his face.

You have combat trauma?

What combat?

See that Syrian village?

One day, Israeli soldiers will buy cheese

from the village store.

But before, guys even younger than you will die.

This is cyanide.

We all carry it in our pockets.

For the Last Judgment procedure,

when Syrians are scaling the walls,

when it's captivity or death.

Here, we choose death.

We'll all take our cyanide pill.

One after the other.

Nobody will duck out.

Where's the form you want me to sign?

I need to get paid.

Good thing you reminded me.

Stop by the theater, will you? Check the sound's loud.

But open and shut the door nice and gently.

Don't let it slam.

Hi, Mom.

This is the Arava before sunset.

We drove through a field of rotting bell peppers.

I wanted to film it for you.

Just think,

heaps of rotting peppers in the desert.

A metaphor for this country.

We were driving too fast to film it properly.

So just imagine.

Maybe we could use it as the start of a story.

Think it over, Mom.

The screening is in progress.

The dance scene, maybe.

Have a good evening.

Take half a sleeping pill.

You are my treasure.

Recording Yahalom David, deputy director, libraries.

Sapir Village, December 15.

5:45 pm.

Ignore the start of the recording.

Any beautiful animals worth shooting around here?

Besides me?

Bobcats, caracals, wolves, jackals,

ugly striped hyenas,

antelopes, crocodile farms...

- The farm only opens in summer. - Gazelles?

Sign and we'll go looking for gazelles.

Here, a pen.

Wait!

A week, 10 days, after they gave us cyanide,

screaming woke us up, me and the other rookie.

"To the bunker! To the bunker!"

The darkened tunnels.

All is black.

Three times, my head bangs on rocks.

"Don't be scared," I tell him.

It didn't help.

Horrifying reports start coming in.

Syrian tanks headed our way.

Airborne commandos swarming over the mountain.

More commandos converging from Lebanon.

Think about it.

Eyes wide open, like a storm on the ocean,

or I don't know what.

Faces as white as sheets on a line.

Imagine it.

Imagine it.

We call for help but the Israeli army is fast asleep.

Keep it short. It dragged on an hour.

The sergeant's arrogance gives way to fear.

He receives orders over the radio and falls silent.

His eyes bug out.

Last Judgment!

One guy tries to protest.

Let's run, he says, but we know we're surrounded.

They shut him up.

How come you're here?

A miracle?

I can't.

- I can't. - Swallow.

- I can't. - Swallow.

Swallow.

Swallow!

Swallow!

Poor guy, how awful.

Wait...

Shoot me!

You shoot me!

Grab that idiot!

The war, cyanide, it's all a joke. There's nothing.

I know.

Unbelievable!

How cruel!

What a scumbag, that sergeant. A real bastard!

The weirdest thing is, I saw right away he was lying.

They were all lying.

How did you know?

They were terrible actors.

Especially the guy running the thing. The sergeant.

We found out later, it was all his idea.

On the radio, he was like,

"How many? Thousands? Coming up the valley?

Another chopper's landed?"

I could tell it was to no one.

The rhythm was off.

Too rapid.

He couldn't stand the slowness of truth.

"Heart-broken, I must tell you,"

"Last Judgment!"

I nearly cracked up.

And taking the so-called cyanide, the way he swallowed.

The way he yelled, "Swallow! Swallow!"

I wasn't buying it.

I did secretarial work at a missile base.

From my office window, I saw a fence.

Totally pointless.

At least, you got stories out of it.

We all have stories but you celebrate yours.

Actually, your story reminds me of a book I read.

It's very similar.

About the Foreign Legion, maybe.

In Africa?

A two-word title.

Name.

Date, title, copyright holder.

Role in the production. Writer-director, right?

Co-writer? Your mother?

Wait.

Don't you have any questions?

My story needs no further explanation?

Something crossed my mind. Maybe you won't like it.

If you knew it was a game, why let them torment the guy?

You could've spoken out.

I guess it's easy now,

I wasn't there.

I was there, though.

I was wise to their game, not scared. Just the opposite.

I hated the sergeant and his buddies in the unit.

I didn't want to help, just the opposite.

Destroy everything.

Always.

So why do nothing?

Why did I let it go on and on? Why play along?

I could've taught them a lesson.

Demolished years of abuse in a second.

But I swallowed the cyanide.

So, before I swallow this pill,

tell me what I'm really signing.

It's your agreement with the Ministry...

No, wrong.

You specify the nature of the cultural activity...

No.

- I don't know what to say. - The truth.

I'm part of the Ministry, the system.

Read what it says.

- Read it? - Go ahead.

"Activity description: public meeting with..."

Skip that, please.

"Once the activity completed, the invoice will be..."

Come on.

"Confidentiality."

"You must respect the copy..."

Copyright. Come on. "Activity topics."

"Check activity topics from the following list:"

"The Jewish experience,

"cultural diversity in Israel, likeness and difference,

"Jewish identity, Jewish history,

"landscapes and places, my country and I,

"Jewish diaspora, anti-Semitism,"

"ethnicity in Israel, zionism."

More, more.

"Desert and sea, men and women,

"Jewish holidays, childhood, sports, favorite singers,

"Holocaust, Holocaust consequences, new media,

"Jerusalem, city of nations, Jerusalem, eternal capital,

"the Army.

"If none of the above topics are applicable,"

"please specify your subject and angle of approach."

What do you think?

I already told you.

So?

These requirements are new.

Instead of local libraries,

all this is now run by the Ministry's libraries division.

- You. - I'm the deputy.

You receive the forms and approve or reject them.

No.

Not me. We follow the instructions we're given.

By whom?

The minister and chief of staff.

Which instructions?

Come on!

We're losing the light, as we say on film sets.

Not to approve exhibition of works, or invitations to artists,

that deal with inappropriate...

What's inappropriate? Inappropriate, says who?

We do. The Ministry.

I'll rephrase it.

Suppose I want to discuss a nationalist, racist, sadistic, abject Jewish state,

whose sole aim is to reduce the soul, particularly the Arab soul,

to impotence and incompetence,

so it collapses under the state's oppression

and will be completely at its mercy.

A state that is a deadly, congenital or contagious disease for its citizens.

You'd be rejected and blacklisted.

What if the topic is Israelis, in their bestial ignorance,

blind puppets, wretched creatures,

who torment anybody different from them,

and who are obsessed with their possessions and...

Enough!

Hold on!

Any glimmer of light in them was extinguished by their schools,

which commit crimes against their own students,

which murder their spirit and exterminate their soul.

Exterminate...

Which spew out impenetrable spite.

Syllabus as mental illness!

And the parents, who are also terrible ignoramuses,

totally innocent since no one ever opened their eyes.

Just the opposite!

You'll be blacklisted, if you want to know.

I want the truth.

Truly, it's what we'd do.

What if my topic is a state

that vomits out whatever doesn't conform

and never takes it back?

That brutalizes its victims with deepest baseness,

and sometimes even deeper.

Whose morality is a complete fraud,

and to say otherwise would be a lie...

You can tell me but not...

I say,

"A Jewish, nationalistic, racist state."

And they retort, "Not in Israel. And if so, there's no harm in it."

"For the land of Israel is beauty, and its people is worthy."

But beyond their empty rhetoric,

the true nature of the country's rulers is revealed.

Including your minister!

So cowardly, so vulgar, so grotesque.

Their despicable laws prevent fresh air

from penetrating people's brains.

Then those rulers, behind their nationalist exhortations,

can easily tyrannize.

Just ask 2, 3 or 4 questions and demand answers

to expose their abhorrent fraud.

I don't want a debate but...

They shut people's eyes so they forget there's not one people,

there are a million peoples.

Not one country but a million countries.

Each of them, Yahalom, is beautiful and important.

The universe bubbles over with strange beauty.

Just read the books you probably have in your library.

Jules Verne?

Dickens?

Dostoyevsky?

Kafka?

Edgar Allan Poe?

George Sand?

They hide all that from their people,

who think, in their ignorance, the universe begins and ends

in the cage where they live and die.

Say a fraction of that and you're through. No need for...

Secrets?

Military secrets? State secrets?

Do we have bombs of a type...

How many?

At least!

Where?

Here.

Straight on, straight on!

On asphalt, on sand!

Raise the hem of your dress.

The road goes through the mud of hell.

At the main intersection,

hurry, hurry!

Bastards coming through!

I'm a bastard, too!

Straight on, straight on!

- Here! In the desert... - Not here but...

A new generation is rising.

It grows but doesn't bloom.

It wilts.

It rots before buds appear.

Instead of shucking off earlier generations,

it wallows in its own vileness.

Vulgar!

Ignorant!

Cowardly!

Worse than those that went before.

Each generation here is the worst.

And each one produces a generation even worse still.

Every day, monsters will be born here!

- I'm not saying a word... - Jerusalem?

Is Jerusalem a topic?

Is it or not?

I'd love to film Jerusalem.

Sing the praises of its monstrous charm.

A land killing its own!

Putrid historical garbage!

Hideous inhabitants living in hideous beauty.

Over time, they become malicious.

Yet in that city of death, I feel at home.

I wish I could say it had no ties to me.

For I want no ties to it.

But we're tied by an unbreakable bond!

That truth will drag me down to hell.

Puke Israel out of me with a scream,

straight into the face...

Into the face of your minister of culture!

Deranged by malice, he'll crawl on all fours!

Like a cow, he'll graze...

It will soon pass.

Well?

Well what?

What will you do to me?

We'll reject you.

And?

And report you.

So?

So you'll be done.

Labeled a traitor even.

Perhaps.

Finished, destroyed, crushed.

Perhaps.

Don't hide. Say it!

I'm no echo.

It's the truth.

It's the truth.

It's the truth, it's the truth.

You'll be finished, destroyed, crushed.

Who'll finish me?

Destroy me? Crush me?

The libraries division.

Us.

On whose orders?

The minister's.

He said, "Smear the country, and you starve to death."

What do you think?

It's pathetic.

Good.

He's a minister of the arts

who hates art.

Good.

In a government that hates human freedom.

Say it.

A minister of the arts who hates art

in a government...

I'm no parrot.

They're your own words.

If it means so much to you...

He's a minister of the arts who hates art

in a government

that hates all human beauty.

The ugliest of governments.

I agree.

Give me the form, please.

And a pen?

What can I write on?

In topics for discussion...

I'm checking

Family,

Love,

and...

Comrades in arms.

Hi, Mom.

I'm here, far away.

And I can't decide.

If what I did was right.

I have no doubt what you'd have done.

I'm sending you the last minute of today.

Come on, Y.

Come on.

Come on, Y, come on.

Soon you'll be on stage.

I have a question, but be honest.

In your cyanide story, you weren't the guy who knew.

You were the sobbing one who ran away. Right?

The victim?

Who didn't understand and ran for his life?

You're the one who cried. I'm sure of it.

In the story, you run from yourself, but it's in you.

I sense it.

The fear.

The despair.

It's in your films, too.

There's another option.

Which is?

That I was neither the hazed rookie...

nor the observer.

I was the sergeant.

The guy behind it all.

I am the devil.

The tormentor.

Good evening.

Anyone want to ask anything?

To say anything?

Did anyone think anything?

Did anyone think?

Thank you.

The baby in the film, is that you?

Or yours?

I'll never have children.

You have any?

Yes, I'm a mother of three.

Pleased to meet you.

I'm the enemy of families. Hell's little darling.

My mother often says, "There are no survivors here."

No survivors, my friends.

Not me.

Nor you.

I have something to tell you.

I'll shoot my next film soon. The Knee of Ahed Tamimi.

You won't be able to see Ahed's knee

after it is shattered by a bullet.

As for The Knee of Ahed Tamimi,

you won't be able to see it here,

and most likely won't want to.

Maybe you too are sad she wasn't shot in the knee.

You won't be able to see it

because to be here to listen to you keep silent,

I had to fill out a form,

specifying the subject of the film you just saw,

and of the subsequent discussion.

A form of submission.

Servility.

Humiliation.

You're thinking, "How's this about the Arab's knee?

"He's exaggerating, lying."

"Damn right, shut him down."

Hear for yourselves.

It's the truth, it's the truth, it's the truth...

You'll be finished, destroyed, crushed.

- Who'll finish me? - Us.

On the minister's orders.

He said, "Smear the country, and you starve to death."

What do you think?

It's pathetic.

Good.

He's a minister of the arts who hates art.

Say it.

"He's a minister of the arts in a government that hates..."

- I'm no parrot. - They're your words.

What are you doing?

If it means so much to you...

A minister of the arts who hates art

in a government that hates human beauty.

The ugliest of governments.

I agree.

I have just sent that...

- Asshole! - Coward!

To the press, TV, internet, everywhere!

You killed me, get it?

I'm finished!

Yahalom!

Stay back!

Yahalom!

Come back!

Stop!

- No, Yahalom. - Back, Mom!

Your whole family's here.

We all love you.

You know how much we love you?

What's wrong, my child?

My life's over.

Silence!

Everybody's seen it?

The minister has tweeted.

Chief of staff, too.

Shut up, asshole!

Anything happens to her, we'll fuck you up.

I'll rip you to shreds!

Stop, Dad!

Don't be vulgar!

I'll jump.

Don't jump.

Why not?

I'll jump.

I didn't send it.

I don't believe you.

Don't believe me.

Liar.

I didn't send it but I will.

Do it and we'll kill you!

Kill me.

Push me off right behind her.

Son of a bitch!

Haven't you hurt her enough?

You scum! You're scum and a coward!

Anyone comes close, I'll send it.

Could be, nobody cares.

Don't jump.

Delete it, please.

I appeal to your heart. You want to destroy my life?

Like I give a shit.

You know what a scandal life is? And we're helpless.

You know what death is?

I'll jump.

Jump.

I'll die.

Smashed to a pulp. And us just after.

Please.

Please, let her go.

Let her go and take me.

I'll send it. Stay back.

Take me.

Leave her alone.

Take me.

What are you doing?

I want to.

Stay away from him, Narkis.

He's good.

You're good.

Enough.

Don't be angry.

You're good, not bad.

I know.

Go away.

Don't be angry.

Be good and you'll feel good.

You are good.

Everything will be fine.

You are good.

You are good.

I'm on my way home.

How are you today?

Able to stay strong?

Last night, there was the screening.

It wasn't bad.

You see all this, Mom?

Say goodbye to the land of Israel through the clouds.