Aggression and Self-Reflection through Cinema: Nadav Lapid’s personal rage in Ahed’s Knee.
One of the freshest and unique voices in recent cinema, Nadav Lapid continues his work with a well-deserved Jury Prize from the 74th Cannes Film Festival, Ahed’s Knee (Ha’berech). Lapid, who does not stray from criticizing his homeland of Israel and its social and political issues, goes full berserk with his latest. His Berlinale Golden Bear, Synonyms (2019), made him finally known in the international film scene and was one of the best in 2019, so his latest was one of the most anticipated films at this year’s Cannes. He is also no stranger to Cannes as his second film, The Kindergarten Teacher (2014), was in the Critics’ Week Section (Semaine de la Critique) and also was a critical hit about a teacher’s obsession of a great child poet, which had an American remake in 2018 starring this year’s jury member, Maggie Gyllenhaal (wonder if she had any say/influence on the award). It was no surprise that any viewer, new or existing, would expect anything less than inimitable with Ahed’s Knee.
Y., a filmmaker (stand-in for Nadav Lapid himself), is introduced as a unique individual from the get-go. He is a rugged, leather jacket man, whom appears fed up and tired. He is holding auditions for his next film about the real-life incident regarding Ahed Tamimi, a 16-year-old Palestinian activist protesting the Israeli government and army due to the timely settlements and detention of Palestinians. In 2017, she was arrested and detained by the Israeli forces after she slapped Israeli police due to their involvement of shooting her 15-year-old cousin Muhammed Tamini at a demonstration, leaving him in a coma. The title stems from the Israeli Lawmaker, Bezalel Smotrich, tweeted that in his opinion, “should have gotten a bullet, at least in the kneecap.” Lapid, born in Tel Aviv and moving to Paris after his military service, continues to criticize his country’s views, but in Ahed’s Knee’s case, he used the real-life events to expand his critique on nationalism using his narrative.
The story then follows Y. to a retrospective screening of one of his earlier films at a library in a small town in Arabah, coordinated by Yahalom, the deputy director of the library division, minister of culture of Israel. Yahalom discusses her passion for film in an attempt to impress Y., but in her role for the government where censorship is widespread, Y.’s mind listens and judges. Yahalom, a knowledgeable, but naïve enthusiast of Y. is put to the test of her admiration in a treacherous exercise in which Y. administers. This test stems from a flashback story Y. tells of his past experience in the Israeli Defense Force. The flashback dealt with Y.’s trauma (or experience) of exploitation, psychological mind games, and commitment. Lapid’s brilliant structure of Ahed’s incident, flashback, and present seamlessly concludes by having Yahalom and Y. face a moral breaking point at the end of the screening. Lapid intertwines the past and present, arts and censorship, and lastly, ethics and honor in a furious monologue performed flawlessly by Y.
Formally, Lapid showcases his distinct style from Synonyms cranked to an 11. Lapid’s disorienting camera movement of rotating 360 degrees from Y.’s eyeline, point of view, close-ups, and third person view is all, but conventional. Its sudden moves and oblique camera choices either displaying unusual staging creates an unnerving yet, intentional vision. Lapid does not want to conform to the standard filmmaking in having perfect staging or camera movements, but wants capture the way he sees cinema which is truly singular and new from an audience standpoint. This may throw viewers off with his unusual and “wrong” filmmaking, but to break from the status quo, creating your own voice, and having a personality behind and in front of a film. That is visionary cinema.
