Waltz with Bashir

It was my day off yesterday - interrupted a bit by a funeral (that I was attending but not officiating at) so I hit the cinema afterwards. I see films on Mondays which I don't think my lady wife would like. Last week it was The Baader-Meinhof Complex which I may write about later this week since it's still percolating in the back of my head.

Waltz with Bashir is probably one of the better films I've seen for a while. An animated film provoked, as its creator explains, by his inability to remember large segments of his military service in the Israeli army in West Beirut at the time of the massacre of Palestinians by Christian Phalangists in the refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila.

It's not until an old army buddy recounts a series of enigmatic dreams which he has been having that the narrator realizes that other than a scattered series of visual images he can remember almost nothing about his proximity to a horrifying event which took place over a period of 24 hours only hundreds of yards from where he had been deployed as a young soldier. It simply wasn't 'stored in his system'.

Rather than leave it in the shadows he begins a pilgrimage through Israel and across Europe to remake the acquaintance of everybody he served with who had survived the '82 war in order to put the pieces back together.

The mind, you see, is creative. It both erases and supplements. It protects us from what could not possibly be the case since we are moral creatures. As such, memory itself needs to be judged and checked. There are moments of considerable violence in the film - softened by the fact that this is animation.

As cliche as it may sound - the medium here is the message. Memory draws reality quite roughly - bends bits of it - is primitive and plastic - it lightens the load of what would, if filmed or, worse, experienced again in its full brutality, be too heavy a load to carry.

A good film. Worth seeing.