Directed by Avi
Nesher
Presented by the
National Center for Jewish Film’s 20th Annual Film Festival, May 4–21, 2017, screens
May 9, at the West Newton Cinema, tickets at jewishfilm.org
Anguish marks
this movie, and courage. It’s not possible to truly understand how Dr. Baruch
Milch (Doron Tavory),
his wife Lusia (Evgenia Dodina),
and other terrorized and haunted Holocaust survivors go on with their lives.
Anguish is captured in Baruch’s face as he tells his daughter Sephi (Joy
Rieger) how he came to be
married to her mother. He was working in a German hospital after the war because
the Americans were there making it safer for Jews than his native Poland. He
says, “They brought her in, she was so young, so sick—my heart went out to her,
what she went through.” This visceral connection to Lusia gave him a ray of
hope for his own life and future: It was 1948 and a Jewish State had just been
created; he could take back his original name of Milch, having survived until
then on false Polish papers; and he could have a family again, the way he had before
the Nazis marched his wife and two-year-old son to a mass pit and shot them.
His
heart went out to Lusia, what his eyes told him she had been through, and we
the audience witness this past in her beautiful middle-aged face carved in
tragedy. Her quietly suffering role in the movie becomes pivotal toward the end,
when she suddenly breaks free from her repressed state and passionately pleads for forgiveness
of the war’s tragedies, because only forgiveness allows life to go on. But forgiveness
can’t work for everyone, and up until that moment certainly not for Baruch, who
adamantly refuses to step foot in Germany; nor will he speak in his native
tongue of Polish.
The
movie succeeds in conveying survivors’ coping with ineradicable anguish. Baruch
and Lusia’s daughters, Sephi and Nana (Nelly Tagar), have been raised harshly
by Baruch to “make names for themselves”—Sephi as a classical musician and
composer and Nana as a journalist and playwright. It is 1977, and Sephi’s music
academy performs in West Berlin, where she meets the young, well-known German
composer Thomas Zielinski, whose Polish mother Agnieszka viciously denounces
Sephi after the concert, calling Baruch Milch a murderer.
Such an accusation naturally
unsettles Sephi. She returns home to Israel and shares the experience with
her older sister Nana. One thing leads to another and soon the sisters are on a quest to find
out their father’s secret past as a possible murderer. The movie’s vehicle of a
mystery gives it structure, but its playing up of Thomas Zielinski’s
trustworthiness falls into contrivance. He gives a master class at Sephi’s
school and then invites her to perform his latest choral work in Warsaw. She
gladly accepts the career opportunity, despite her father’s objections that
Poland isn’t safe, she might disappear if she goes there. The soundtrack
becomes sinister as a taxi drives Sephi and Thomas to a dark, deserted Warsaw street
and leaves them there. Thomas, with the sinister music growing louder, opens a
door that appears to lead down to a gloomy death cellar. Ominously he tells Sephi
to enter first. We think he has bad intentions—that he plans revenge for his
mother’s accusation that Sephi’s father is a murderer. But it turns out that the
dungeon-like stairs lead to a lively speakeasy, where Thomas pushes Sephi to drink
and dance, be freer with herself. From that point on, Thomas becomes Sephi’s
partner in the quest to unearth Baruch’s past, for his wartime diary containing
the truth is archived somewhere in Poland and perhaps they can find it. Was Baruch
really a murderer as Agnieszka and Romek—a survivor from Baruch's past—have shouted at the sisters, or was
the story Baruch finally told his daughters in 1977 the truth?
Other subplots and themes weave
through the movie, enriching it, but Sephi’s triumphant concert in the last scene
lapses into melodrama. However, many movies conclude with the same emotional
family endings that please audiences. In the case of Past Life, prolonging the sentimental moment forces Nana’s
character to overact. Otherwise, her role in the story has power—sharp lines and
flavor—that play well off her controlled husband Yirmi. Both are left-wing
journalists with a poster of Lenin in their radical magazine’s office, which
is a room in their Tel Aviv apartment. Nana fights her father, fights her
mother, fights the world with her anger, but a sudden crisis in her personal
life, in addition to researching her father’s dubious past, brings her to a positive
turning point. Sephi lives under the tyrannical chauvinism
of her academy’s professor, but through Thomas’s free-thinking life as an
artist is able to liberate herself as a composer. Even Baruch takes steps in a
new, more tolerant direction, led by his formerly reticent wife. All of these
relations and individual resolutions are well-rounded in the cinematic tradition.
Past
Life is based on the true story of Baruch Milch (1907–1989),
whose Holocaust diary was published posthumously through the
efforts of his daughters. The facts contained in Milch’s diary and told by Baruch
in the movie fly by in subtitles, all too fast for foreign audiences.
Understanding the Zielinski family’s connection to Baruch, and Baruch’s relationship
to Romek, can be quite confusing when you can’t read the titling twice. It’s
easy to miss that Baruch and Romek are brothers-in-law and that both had
toddler sons named Lonek. It’s worth noting that in this story a Polish family hid Jews in
their cellar, and when the SS stormed the house they did not reveal the hiding
place.
Baruch’s diary’s first line repeats
several times in the movie and comes to symbolize the larger experience of
Holocaust survivors, those with a past life: “The 1st of September 1939 was the
beginning of the end of my life.” The next line in the diary conveys the
anguish that can never be extinguished in those who survive genocide: “I never
imagined that people were capable of such atrocities.”
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