Friday, Aug 29, 2008
Filmmakers B.Z. Goldberg and Justine Shapiro discuss their Oscar-nominated "Promises," a wrenching and intimate portrait of the children of Jerusalem.
Mar 20, 2002 | Moishe is a 10-year-old boy with a plan. When he becomes prime minister of Israel, he says, his first move will be to get rid of all the Arabs in Jerusalem. For now, he wishes they would just fly away.
One of seven children featured in the film "Promises" -- a strong bet to win the Academy Award for best documentary on Sunday night -- Moishe has never met a Palestinian. Still, he is convinced he can't stand them. Speaking directly to the camera, in his husky, high-pitched voice, he tells us he comes from the West Bank settlement called Beit-El, "a place where people who hate Arabs live."
In the Muslim quarter of Jerusalem, blond-haired, blue-eyed Mahmoud is equally antagonistic toward Israelis. His family owns a coffee shop near the Al-Aqsa mosque, and every day Mahmoud prays for the end to Israeli occupation. Although neither boy can speak the other's language, their rhetoric is almost interchangeable.
"If the soldiers miss their aim it's OK, because they might hit an Arab," says Moishe breezily, while cycling past an Israeli firing range.
"The more Jews we kill, the fewer there will be," says Mahmoud, his baby face clenched in defiance, as he proclaims support for Hamas, the radical Palestinian militia.
In news reports from the Middle East, children usually play a symbolic role: We might see pictures of a Palestinian boy dying in his father's arms, or tiny coffins placed in Israeli graves after the latest bombing. But we rarely hear personal accounts from those growing up in the shadow of violence, where death stalks the land and innocence is often the first casualty.
"Promises" is one of a modest handful of efforts to capture a child's-eye view of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Between 1997 and 2000, filmmakers B.Z. Goldberg, Justine Shapiro and Carlos Bolado traveled into and around Jerusalem, interviewing young people between the ages of 9 and 12. Goldberg, an Israeli-born American journalist; Shapiro, the Berkeley, Calif.-bred host of the U.K. travel series "Lonely Planet"; and Bolado, a film editor from Mexico ("Like Water for Chocolate," "Amores Perros"),combined their diverse talents and perspectives for this finely crafted, deeply moving feature, which has scooped up multiple awards at festivals worldwide. ("Promises" first aired on PBS in December and is currently playing theatrical engagements in New York, Boston and Los Angeles, with other cities to follow .)
Along with Moishe and Mahmoud, "Promises" takes us into the daily lives of Sanabel, a Palestinian girl who lives in the Deheishe refugee camp and whose journalist father has spent two years without trial in an Israeli prison. Sanabel takes part in protest marches and performs traditional Palestinian dances. Faraj, also a Palestinian refugee, channels his frustration into competitive sprinting; in one especially emotional scene, the filmmakers take Faraj and his grandmother to see the land his family fled in 1948.
In Jerusalem, twins Yarko and Daniel, from a secular Jewish family, question the existence of God but still pray at the Western Wall for victory in an upcoming volleyball game. An entertaining and photogenic double act, Yarko and Daniel are more interested in school and sports than in their so-called enemies. But when they ride the school bus, their eyes dart left and right, in fear of terrorist attacks. On the other hand, Shlomo, the bookish son of an Orthodox American rabbi, says he feels safest in Jerusalem, because it is a holy city for both Jews and Muslims.
All these children are neighbors, living only minutes apart, but they live in alternate realities. There is much talk of war in "Promises," and any of these cute kids could grow up to be instigators of violence, but the film's underlying theme is an appeal for some kind of neutral ground. Of course, making a film that calls for peace in this region is itself a kind of political statement, a rejection of the extremist rhetoric in which both sides have engaged. In "Promises," the message comes across more as a prayer whispered between the lines than as a pamphlet shoved into the hands of the audience.
Director-producer Goldberg appears as confidant and mediator in the film, engaging with the children in both Hebrew and Arabic. It's a risky but ultimately rewarding move, for we warm to his presence through the way he relates to the kids. When Mahmoud spits against Jews, Goldberg reminds him that Goldberg himself is a "Jewish boy." The camera zooms in on the boy's hesitant expression, as he wrestles with his mixed feelings for the man he now calls his friend. "You're not a real Jew," Mahmoud finally insists. "You're American."
Goldberg's role is also central to the film's turning point. When he shows Yarko and Daniel a Polaroid of Faraj, the twins ask if they can meet him. Faraj is unreceptive at first, but after Sanabel's encouragement, he invites the twins to his camp. In one of the more touching moments, we see the fiercely proud Palestinian boy in front of the mirror, slicking back his hair and wearing his best shirt, to prepare for his guests. The meeting breathes hope into the film, but it's punctuated by a wrenching scene in which Faraj breaks down in tears because his new friends, including the filmmakers, will soon leave.
Even more painful is the film's epilogue, shot two years later. Sadly, most of the children remain polarized. Checkpoints have prevented Yarko and Daniel from returning to Deheishe. The fire that was burning in Faraj has been dimmed. One look into his eyes tells you everything you need to know.
Particularly in light of the region's present state of affairs, "Promises" can make for wrenching, even heartbreaking viewing. But there are surprisingly hilarious moments, largely thanks to children's natural tendency for slapstick and unwitting humor. The funniest sequence comes one afternoon when Shlomo is walking through an Arab neighborhood of Jerusalem. As if on cue, a Palestinian boy confronts him, loudly burping in his face. Shlomo continues talking to the camera, but after a couple more eruptions, the future rabbi cannot help but respond. The scene rapidly becomes a belch-off, leaving the kids and the audience giggling. Boys will be boys, after all. It's also a suggestive metaphor: How much of the political positioning on both sides of the Israeli-Palestinian divide can be reduced to hot air?
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