All language subtitles for Aheds.Knee.2021.HEBREW.WEBRip.x264

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.