This write-up will be neither as eventful as Jordan Hoffman’s nor as melancholic as Alexandra Zawia’s.
This year’s Jerusalem Film Festival took place from July 10-20. International journalists were encouraged to attend the first seven days, but I made the mistake of picking the last seven days, and in doing so ensured that I would be at an event when there were no events planned for me. I also missed the most inadvertently bombastic incidents at the festival’s opening. Not once did I see a contrail lighten up the sky; never did I hear an air raid siren; no one asked me to move to any shelter.
In comparison, my experience was rather confusing. I wafted through a festival that seemed anything but festive. Not because the people were glum–if anything, the cheerfulness of Jerusalemites during apparent war is eerie–but because the swirling details of real life colluded to make one feel as if sitting in the Jerusalem Cinematheque–the festival centre–and munching on popcorn was inhumane.
The news cycle played havoc with the event schedule to the extent that each new email brought about a drastic change in plans. The Italian Cultural Institute had an event planned to honor Cannes Grand …read more