Michale is a thirty year old woman. She works with her father in a Tel Aviv accounting office providing services to important religious institutions. She divides her time between her child,... See full summary »
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Michale is a thirty year old woman. She works with her father in a Tel Aviv accounting office providing services to important religious institutions. She divides her time between her child, her husband, her work and the man with whom she is having an affair. When Michale learns of the tragic death of her lover, her life is shattered Written by
Noah Harlan
Avanim is a powerful movie. At first glance it's about a married Israeli woman (Michale) living in a Yemeni religious environment who has a furtive affair with a man and is at odds with her father-and-boss and his unlawful activities that favor the financial interests of this religious community. Her lover dies in a suicide attack (we happen to know furtively too), but tears, grief and mourning is impossible. Nonetheless she'll manage to make something of that impossibility and the brewing family crisis: leave her husband eat the shabbat jachnun on his own, take her son, and change her life (we can imagine). At second glance it's the universal tragedy of a woman who tries to liberate from male coercion and a stringent religious community that has difficulties playing by the laws governing a democratic country. Also it's an optimistic story as it shows a multi-layered suffering fueling, not depression, but a dramatic change in destiny. The tempo and sound-track make us quasi insiders of all characters: prolonged shots of religious rituals and cooking alternate with brisk and allusive scenes.
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Avanim is a powerful movie. At first glance it's about a married Israeli woman (Michale) living in a Yemeni religious environment who has a furtive affair with a man and is at odds with her father-and-boss and his unlawful activities that favor the financial interests of this religious community. Her lover dies in a suicide attack (we happen to know furtively too), but tears, grief and mourning is impossible. Nonetheless she'll manage to make something of that impossibility and the brewing family crisis: leave her husband eat the shabbat jachnun on his own, take her son, and change her life (we can imagine). At second glance it's the universal tragedy of a woman who tries to liberate from male coercion and a stringent religious community that has difficulties playing by the laws governing a democratic country. Also it's an optimistic story as it shows a multi-layered suffering fueling, not depression, but a dramatic change in destiny. The tempo and sound-track make us quasi insiders of all characters: prolonged shots of religious rituals and cooking alternate with brisk and allusive scenes.