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Avi Mograbi's family has lived between the 3 countries of Lebanon, Palestine and Israel for generations and witnessed the strife since the founding of the State of Israel. Mograbi ... See full summary »
A woman returns to her village after her father's death, who has never loved. She meets a man who spends his days cultivating the land and writing. Each of their meetings will culminate in a need for them to confront physically.
They never expected Kyra to turn up again. The two brothers and their sister, brought together when their father dies, are stunned by the appearance of their sister. Kyra suddenly vanished ... See full summary »
A documentary filmmaker goes out to document August, since he believes that this month constitutes a metaphor of all that is hateful in the State of Israel. Yet, while making the film he himself becomes August.
A documentary about terrorists, where the criminals themselves confess their sins on camera, with their faces blurred so that no one can recognize them. As an idea, it's actually pretty interesting. But that's all it should have remained: an idea. The finished product, Z32, is confusing, nonsensical and, most of the time, plain boring.
The director, Avi Mograbi, structures the film like this: on one level we have the Israeli terrorist who, encouraged by his girlfriend, tapes a confession where he expresses his regret for killing two Palestinian police officers during a reprisal operation. The girlfriend testifies on camera too, on the condition that her face be unrecognizable. On the other level, we have a series of Lynchian musical interludes, staged by Mograbi himself, which have no connection whatsoever to what's being told and seem to have been inserted simply to extend the running time. There are also additional scenes where the terrorist visits the crime scene with a friend, providing further insight.
Artistically speaking, the director might even have had an interesting point to make with this new, unprecedented approach to the subject of terrorism. Unfortunately, the utter pointlessness of what is said (the "confession" quickly turns into stream-of-consciousness nonsense) and the inexplicable interludes do nothing but alienate the audience: whereas Lynch, who pioneered this kind of scenes with Twin Peaks and brought them to extreme levels in INLAND EMPIRE, uses the surreal digressions as an organic part of the narrative (whatever that may be), Mograbi is unable to make us understand why his hybrid of Munich and The Blair Witch Project has to feature a string of gratuitous, artsy intermissions. It's as if two different, completely incompatible films met at a crossroads and merged without thinking about the consequences.
Granted, this isn't the worst film ever made (those tend to be fully devoid of ideas), but its attempt to bring a new perspective on a done-to-death subject ends up being its downfall. In other words, it's too blatantly weird for its own good.
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