Losing Sight of Who the Enemy Is

Movies | Review of: The Bubble

By S. JAMES SNYDER
September 7, 2007

In those dark days following attacks of September 11, 2001, the American frame of mind could be summed up simply: Take a moment to mourn, but then get on with it. Don't let the terrorists "win" by altering our way of life. That was the mantra we were offered time and again.

It would have been difficult before that day for an American to fully appreciate the courage and conviction of Eytan Fox, the Israeli director of unfailing confidence who crafts stories about the light of life persevering in the shadow of war. But in these days of persistent orange alerts and recurring Al Qaeda videos seen on nightly news programs, we have started to move closer to the anxious mind-set that must be common among Mr. Fox's home audience in Israel.

"The Bubble" tackles that surreal state we found ourselves in during September 2001, juggling the contradictory impulses to live life normally while acknowledging that it will never be normal again. Mr. Fox's is a story about a cocoon of artificial normalcy existing within a wider landscape of fear and violence. On the surface, one could say "The Bubble" is about nothing, but given all the tragedy raging on the periphery, its ultracalm center becomes something profound.

The film begins in familiar territory: an Israeli checkpoint at high noon, men with guns ordering a bus full of Palestinians-Arabs to de-board, checking them first for suicide bombs, then for proper documentation. A pregnant woman goes into labor during the inspections, but her baby is delivered stillborn. It is a universal tragedy, something devastating not just for the mother, but also for her comrades on the bus as well as the Israeli doctors tending to her. But in this heated corner of the world, there is no such thing as a "human" loss — only the roles of ally and enemy. As the Palestinians erupt, accusing the Israelis of killing the infant, the guards fire their guns into the air and order them back in line. The brief moment of human empathy has ended; time to get back to the bloody business at hand.

Except not for an Israeli named Noam (Ohad Knoller), who slowly stumbles his way back home to a swank apartment in the sweetest neighborhood of Tel Aviv. Awaiting him are his two wacky roommates Yali and Lulu (Alon Friedmann and Daniela Wircer), who seem torn from the pages of a "Seinfeld" script. There's a sexual tension between Noam and Yali, both gay, and a sexual angst in Lulu, who is frustrated about her stalled love life. As they go about their days, managing a chic little coffee shop, buying the latest music, and staging various rave parties — all under the guise of "protesting the occupation," of course — the further they remove themselves from the dramas at the borders and the horrors of the nightly news reports.

They go so far, in fact, that Noam has lost any notion of who is supposedly the enemy. One night, Ashraf (Yousef Sweid) arrives, after hours spent sneaking across the border. Ashraf is a Palestinian-Arab who seems as detached from his world as Noam, Yali, and Lulu are detached from the bulk and bustle of Tel Aviv. Ashraf, who embraces his homosexuality doesn't feel accepted at home, and he asks Noam if he can stay here, in Tel Aviv. Naturally, the roommates protest, but they quickly cave in, making it now four detached young souls living blissfully apart from the bombings, barricades, and bulldozing happening only miles away.

It's not until the ambivalent quartet goes out, bullhorn in hand, to promote their upcoming pacifist rave party, that they are brought crashing down to earth. Pedestrians verbally attack them, asking if these young, naïve partiers have ever witnessed the carnage of a bomb blast or lost someone they love to the enemy.

Similarly, in the café and on the street, people remark about this Tel Aviv neighborhood — seemingly not all that dissimilar from several Manhattan neighborhoods — and how it exists in a bubble from the rest of the world. Noam, Ashraf, Yali, and Lulu are called out on their apathy and their disregard, and when Yali starts dating a hard-edged army officer, there's a genuine tension between the roommates and the new boyfriend — between the tolerant, isolated idealists and the intolerant, battle-scarred realist.

Ultimately the conflict is not just about the bubble, but the way the bubble is squeezed and suffocated amid the violence — a constant back-and-forth between trying to live a life on one's own terms and being forced to adapt to the horrors raging at every turn. This is a complicated theme, one that most movies would shy away from, as we have witnessed through five years of an American cinema that, apart from documentaries, has mostly steered clear of terrorism. Mr. Fox has proved himself to be a bit braver than his American counterparts, having already directed two exceptional films ("Yossi and Jagger" and "Walk on Water") about love and friendship that flourish amid the hatred of a wartorn Middle East.

"The Bubble," more so than his previous works, is a story about how those friendships and loves begin to suffocate beneath the stresses of reality. For any young American living in this era of "the war on terror," it's a story worth considering.