As in his debut feature, Heder (Room 514) writer-director Sharon Bar-Ziv explores the consequences of a single atrocity to reaffirm the need for Israel’s humanity in war.
A mishandled Gaza operation leaves young Omri in a coma. His parents, sister, friends, comrades, struggle to stimulate him back into consciousness. Wars leave shells of humanity.
At the same time the awake relationships quiver and shift. The parents quarrel. Sis and mom yell at each other. A mate is dating Omri’s unrequited passion. The parents grow impatient with the dedicated hospital staff.
This is an outside-the-soldier version of Johnny Got His Gun, where the insanity of war is summarized in one man’s paralysis, his sentience silenced.
In the saddest scene the grieving parents of his friend, killed in the same operation, swallow their tragic loss and bring Omri a photo of the two boys frolicking in a pool.
Typically, the Israeli soldiers bring the liveliest, sassiest spirit to their visits. Aptly, the l’chaim of a Rosh Hashannah dinner at his bedside prompts Omri’s breakthrough — his own l’chaim (translated here as “Cheers’ but of course meaning “to life”).The film is a profoundly felt reaffirmation of life in the face of war.
In a fatuous pro forma remark, the mayor asserts that the enemy is also suffering. That doesn’t assuage the grief of Omri’s family, nor justify the decades of war — nor the culture in which older sister Hagar, offered her choice of toy at Omri’s birth, insisted upon a big gun.
In a fatuous pro forma remark, the mayor asserts that the enemy is also suffering. That doesn’t assuage the grief of Omri’s family, nor justify the decades of war — nor the culture in which older sister Hagar, offered her choice of toy at Omri’s birth, insisted upon a big gun.
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