You wouldn’t be wrong to immediately associate the film Bethlehem with the birthplace of Jesus Christ. But Bethlehem’s namesake is instead the site of violence—cold, calculated and endemic violence that leaves no one exempt from its intoxicating grip.
The film unfolds around the relationship between conflicted Israeli Shin Bet officer Razi and his imperious but fragile teenage Palestinian informant, Sanfur. In deciding whether to protect Sanfur or do as his job and religion dictates, Razi’s moral quandary causes a ripple of tragic events. Their relationship takes shape as the film progresses and enters such intense and confusing territory that I almost felt it to be non-platonic, a testament to director Yuval Adler’s ability to add depth and shades to his characters.
Adler’s nonpartisan and balanced depiction of both sides of the conflict, reflected in his dual Palestinian and Israeli cast, earned him the most prestigious nod at the 2013 Venice Film Festival. The film was chosen as Israel’s entry for Best Foreign Language Film at the 86th Academy Awards, perhaps even more remarkable considering Bethlehem’s cast of entirely new actors.
There is nothing quite as apt as gunshots to start the story. The chilling image of children wielding guns, not quite possessing the machismo of seasoned Shin Bet operatives, sets the tone for the rest of the movie. Adler poignantly demonstrates that there is no redeeming recourse to innocence, only short-lived inexperience. For those not acquainted with the geopolitical dynamics and conflict in the Holy Land, the film provides no informational context, leaving the viewers to get up to speed themselves.
The characters’ moral navigations are as confusing as the web of loyalties. To save a friend, one has to kill his brother—to save a father, one has to befriend the enemy. Even within families, allegiance is divided. The loyalties of each character tear their bonds apart, dooming every kind of human relationship. This film not only blurs the differences between right and wrong, but clouds it until it is obscured.
The nature of the central relationship between Razi and Sanfur takes shape as the film progresses, and enters such intense and confusing territory that it almost feels sexual, a testament to Adler being able to add depth and shades to his characters.
In a film about the danger and trickiness of loyalty, Adler himself stays away from picking a side, which is the ultimate triumph of the film. Both the Israelis and Palestinians are desperate and diabolical in equal measure. Both kill. Both are bad. And yet, both make your heart break. There is an undeniable sense of humanity present in all the characters, and the austere pride of Islam and Judaism shines through, but in a situation when having any shred of humanity is a liability, how can you pronounce anyone a villain?
Adler’s film doesn’t contain scenes of clichéd bloodbaths. His fight scenes are stripped of extraneous effect and spectacle.When there is death, it is significant and often heart wrenching, but never cloying. To his credit, Adler neither sensationalizes violence nor sugarcoats tragedy, giving an honest look into the little town of Bethlehem.
