Z32 (2008) Movie Script
Is it rolling?
Do you think
the frame is good?
Yeah?
Yeah.
Okay, talk.
Me?
I don't know,
I don't feel like it...
Seriously,
this whole thing...
It's obvious you're
talking to the camera.
I know, I feel it.
I feel the camera on my face.
Come,
let's try to do it.
- Come.
- Come.
- Should I sit up straight?
- Sit like this.
It feels impolite.
Who cares if it's polite?
You already look bad in this story,
so...
I don't look bad.
It's not true. I look...
You're talking as if
you have an audience.
I know how you talk
when we're alone.
How do I talk when
I'm alone with you?
You sound like you're
trying to impress someone.
- So how do I talk when...
- See?
I know,
I can't do it.
Fuck it!
Fuck this whole thing...
- See?
- I can't do it.
You're even swearing
self-consciously.
Do you know where
this idea came from?
Talk to me and not to
an imaginary audience.
- I'm not...
- Talk to me. There's nobody here.
I just lit this.
Give me the ashtray.
Anyway, do you know why
this whole idea came up?
Last time,
when I filmed myself at home,
at one point I talked to you.
About...
how you didn't understand...
Both you and Avi told me
you couldn't understand...
How I could do it...
As if I had a choice.
- Like I said.
- And I say I didn't have a choice.
And that's what we've
been fighting about.
Like the fight we had when
we didn't speak for 2 days.
Can I?
Is the camera rolling?
Okay.
This is how the film begins.
Okay?
An unidentified figure
wearing a hood
faces the camera and waits
for the crew to set up
and tell him everything's ready
so he can begin.
When they say the camera is rolling,
the figure takes a piece of paper
and begins to read a testimony:
"Then one evening,
"we were driving along Road 443,
"back when there were
still shootings on 443,
"we went to arrest
a 'wanted' Palestinian."
The figure reads
a sentence or two and says:
"Look, this is impossible.
"Let's cut some holes."
So the wardrobe assistant
comes in with little scissors
and cuts holes...
for his eyes...
and his mouth.
Maybe at this point Michael,
my younger son,
will walk in from his room
down the hall
and stare in amazement at
what his father is doing.
He's familiar with...
But this time,
it's stranger than usual.
Or else he'll sit there
and watch us,
like a bunch of retarded adults.
So, maybe there'll be
something with Michael.
Then the figure
will continue with the testimony.
"And suddenly our bus stopped.
"I don't remember
where we were headed.
"It stopped for two hours.
"Our commanders got on
their mobile phones.
"Finally, we headed to
the base of Battalion 605."
Listen,
I can't breathe like this.
And the figure asks
to cut a hole for his nose
because it's simply...
He continues:
"We entered a briefing room,
our commander went upstairs,
"we heard there'd been an attack.
"Six soldiers were killed
at a checkpoint on a foggy night."
At this point, the figure
can't continue...
and takes off the hood.
We discover it's the director,
all sweaty and flushed...
He says:
"Listen, I don't know.
"We can't do it like this.
"We need another solution.
"No one can testify like this."
At this point, you...
There'll be a piano there.
You'll come in
and sit at the piano,
with earphones, etc.,
like a soundman,
and start improvising something.
From this point on,
it's all music.
Whenever we return
to the director's living room,
it's all song and...
No more talk.
If the wife comes in,
no problem.
If the son is there,
or the dog, it's cool.
Hi honey.
What perfect timing.
Want me to go?
On the contrary, I was hoping
you or Michael would come in.
It's part of the scene.
I won't participate in this movie.
I'll put a hood over your head,
like I did over mine.
I filmed myself with a hood.
- Want one?
- No.
I enlisted in 1999,
after volunteering with
a leftist youth movement.
I did 20 months of "Yael"
reconnaissance unit training.
Then I was a combat soldier.
It's a small "elite" unit.
It feels like you could be
thrown out anytime.
That's how elite units work.
You do your best
not to be thrown out.
The training period is
divided into a few parts.
First, regular basic training
and then unit basic training.
Ten weeks in the woods,
twenty guys in two tents.
We live in those tents
and everything happens there.
It's 99% humiliation and harassment
and 1% field skills.
Down on the ground!
Forward charge! etc.
And what you do more than anything
is make long treks
and carry weights.
At my peak, toward the end,
I could carry 100%
of my body weight.
I carried the equivalent
of my self for a week.
We had to carry as much
as possible, and we'd compete.
I remember trying
to reach 82 kilos.
I'd eat to gain weight,
to raise my percentages,
to carry with the big boys.
Are you mad at me?
What?
I'm asking if you're mad
at me for what I did.
- What is this, an interview?
- Yes.
I can't look over there
when I see you here.
Look over here.
Do I have to answer?
The truth?
The honest truth.
Am I mad at you?
Not as much as I was...
But now that we're
talking about it, yes.
I mean no, but...
I can't stand this camera.
If I tell you the truth
you'll be offended.
Maybe you think it's
good for the film, but...
Tell me.
When you first told me,
I was mad.
And then?
- Will you stop it a second?
- Yes.
You didn't stop it, liar.
Why stop it?
Just tell me.
It's weird to talk about it now.
It's not related to anything.
Yes it does,
it's something I'm dealing with...
It comes up in our lives
from time to time.
But I can't just talk
about it all of a sudden.
In the middle of the morning,
with a sore throat, in India.
I asked you to stop filming.
I'm not retarded.
I see the red light is on.
Since its heyday in Lebanon,
where it would lay
explosive devices,
the unit hasn't done a thing.
The soldiers mainly work out
at the gym or go running.
That's 99% of what we'd do.
We'd see lots of plays.
- "Culture Sundays"?
- Yeah.
We'd go to the weekly ball game,
we'd get free tickets...
But otherwise do nothing.
Occasionally,
a big plan would get drawn up,
and we'd start
training for it big time.
Blow up a house here,
do something else there.
But it never happened.
It always got canceled.
Until the 2nd Intifada began.
Then, I was already a combat soldier,
the unit began looking for "jobs".
We realized "action" wouldn't come
unless we went looking for it.
What do you mean?
We went to Beit Jala.
The commanders there
realized they had...
a great combat unit
with nothing to do,
and they could send us
on the worst missions,
because we're so hungry for action
and eager to kill,
that we'd do anything.
After Beit Jala we returned to base,
we had this terrible feeling
that everyone else
gets to do things,
while we, an elite unit,
don't get to do anything.
It's an IDF thing.
Every soldier feels like
they're in the best unit,
with the best fighters,
their operations
are the most amazing.
Everyone is Chuck Norris.
Everyone.
We did too.
And it's frustrating,
with all this build-up,
to find yourself at home,
I mean on base,
just jerking off.
Okay.
Shall we do it?
Okay.
Are we rolling?
Okay, cool.
Mask his face
so we can talk to him.
Leave a hole for his nose
and two eyes,
so we can sense his smile.
He says he must
leave the past behind.
He has good reason
to be afraid.
And he has good reason
to feel... exclu...
...excluded.
But he has no reason
to feel exceptional.
It turns out...
he's just another bench-warmer.
Mask his face
so we can
continue to imagine him.
Leave a hole for his nose
and two eyes,
so we can sense his smile.
That nothing about him is evil,
that he is the model
taken-for-granted son of his parents.
Mask his face.
Mask his face.
Other than the B-part where
I keep getting mixed up,
because I can't stand
the lyrics there.
- You wrote them.
- I wrote them...
So I'll be the one
to slit my wrists.
I can't wait...
You're right, it's not great.
Okay, but let's do it.
We'll sing it like this
and work on it later.
Yeah, let's lighten it up a little.
Mask his face so we can...
More conversational.
Mask his face
so we can talk to him.
- Okay, let's do it.
- Okay.
Mask his face...
Okay, where to today?
The same place,
but this time for real.
I assume you found out
where it is.
No one knows. Not even...
So without me
nothing would...?
He didn't know.
The guy I thought would know,
didn't know either.
Good thing I'm here.
What did you find out?
Here it is. We were at Halamish.
Yes.
And it's at Deir as-Sudan?
Here's Deir as-Sudan.
From Halamish we need to
drive toward Ateret,
and then left.
It's not far.
How do you know it's
at Deir as-Sudan?
- I found your fingerprints there.
- Cut it out.
Seriously.
Deir as-Sudan is on a ridge.
It's like...
Deir as-Sudan is up on a ridge.
That's a problem.
Look, it might be wrong.
Maybe I'm wrong.
Hello.
We're heading this way...
This is Umm Safafa.
- Umm Safafa?
- Umm Safafa.
It's also blocked.
- No, it's not.
- No?
There's something very gratifying
about being Ronny from the
"Yael" reconnaissance unit,
or Danny from the commando,
or Ronny the combat pilot.
There's something
powerful about it.
I'm Ronny the F16 pilot.
What's up?
In my masculine imagination
I'm fucking girls like...
Superman.
Now, we kept looking for
ways to justify this.
We were dying to
get some action,
or do something
really dramatic.
And then we got to do
house-to-house searches.
From morning to night,
sometimes only at night.
You go to someone's house
and knock on the door:
"Open the door! Army!"
They open the door,
tak tak tak!
In go 6-7 armed soldiers,
ta ta ta tam!
We put everyone in one room,
on their knees,
women and all.
We take one of them
and go room by room,
looking through their stuff.
In my unit there are 12 guys,
the cream of the crop,
great guys each and every one,
with values and ideals.
So the first time you enter
a home you move stuff carefully,
glance at documents,
put everything back,
speak courteously.
By the 4th day you're shouting,
shoving them around,
turning things upside down,
tense from every move.
It happens because
there's serious burnout.
They keep telling you that in
the next house there's a terrorist,
next time there'll be a clash,
and you're dying
for it to happen.
You've spent 20 months
training for it.
If anyone dares point
a weapon at us,
we'll kick his ass and kill him,
if only he dares.
We teamed up with
the "Nahshon" unit
to occupy the Kasbah
of some village.
At the briefing,
the "Nahshon" commander says:
"We're facing a real tough battle.
"Some of you won't make it back.
"There'll be intense shooting...
Be sure to fire at..."
The rules of engagement
were to shoot
even a kid with a stone.
A kid with a stone
was fair game.
- Live ammunition?
- Of course.
When told: "It'll be a tough battle,
some of you won't make it back,
"shoot whoever threatens you."
I shoot whoever threatens me,
and everybody is a threat.
Any male over 5 years old
is a threat.
That's how you feel.
Here?
Let's ask the...
Hello, where's the road
to Deir as-Sudan?
From here.
- On the right.
- On the right? Thank you.
Dig my Arabic?
Yeah, this is cool.
I think.
- Something here doesn't feel right.
- It doesn't?
Maybe I'm wrong.
This village looks too high.
But maybe it's
on the other side, I don't know.
What can I say, babe?
I'm left with
the feeling that
I could and should
have acted differently.
That theoretically
I was strong enough to do so,
and now all I can do
is live with my guilt.
All I can do,
as far as you're concerned...
All you can do
is stir up these
feelings of guilt.
There was a place from which
the Palestinians kept shooting
at an Israeli army post.
And they didn't manage to...
The angle was such that
they couldn't shoot back.
The Palestinians had these
cement bags for protection.
So our plan was to booby-trap
one of those bags.
Two guys from my unit
were sent to train for the job,
together with another unit.
They trained and trained,
until they finally did it.
Beforehand, a guy from my unit
said there was a problem
because you can't see
what's going on.
To activate the charge
you need to push a button,
but you can't really see.
There's no eye contact.
You can't know exactly
when to activate it.
Then...
contrary to my unit's
recommendation,
they decided to put
a touch-sensitive device.
If you as much as touch this thing,
it explodes.
They set up the device,
and the next day
five kids on their way to school...
Sorry, four kids
on their way to school
stepped on it and
were blown to bits.
Four brothers...
were killed.
I feel like...
I'm seeking forgiveness.
I'm looking for someone to
absolve me of this whole thing.
But you won't...
I wanted you to forgive me so much.
When I told you about it
and we fought.
And you haven't forgiven me.
You won't absolve me.
I'm asking you
to forgive me, somehow.
But you won't.
But now I'm able to forgive you,
and I understand your
need to be absolved.
It really is, as you say,
"forgiveness."
You didn't use this term before.
Forgiveness is when
you've done something
and you regret it
and ask to be forgiven for it.
You want someone
to acknowledge your regret.
It wasn't always like that.
At first you just wanted me
to understand you,
to hug you and tell you
I understand why you did it,
even if it was wrong.
And now that you're older
and wiser, it's okay,
because you were
just young and foolish.
I didn't accept it then,
and I don't accept it now.
My forgiveness presumes
that now as an adult
you can reflect on it...
and understand it...
and you're angry
about it and hate it.
See what I mean?
My forgiveness is to try
to understand psychologically
how a person can do
such a thing.
Maybe it sounds patronizing,
but I know, at least I hope,
that in a similar situation
I'd act differently.
One night we went out on
a search and seizure operation.
We were based at Ofer camp,
on Road 443,
back when there were still
shootings on 443.
We were on the bus
and suddenly it stopped,
I don't remember
where we were headed.
Something happened.
We didn't know what.
The bus stopped for two hours.
Our commanders got on their phones.
Finally, we headed to the base
of Battalion 605.
Right?
Engineering Corps.
We entered a briefing room,
and our commander went upstairs.
While we waited,
we heard there'd been an attack.
Six Engineering Corps soldiers
were killed at a checkpoint.
Shot at close range
on a foggy night.
Our commander returns and says
that we're going on
a revenge mission.
An eye for an eye.
They killed six of ours,
we'll kill six of theirs.
They showed us on the map
a Palestinian checkpoint.
The idea was
to go there at night
and when they came
in the morning,
kill the Palestinian policemen
who manned it.
Three other units were to do
the same at three other sites.
Paratroopers, reconnaissance
and another engineering unit.
- Can we trade places?
- No.
Okay, bon appetite.
Tell me my story.
- What, and ruin my meal?
- Yes.
What do you mean by "tell"?
Tell it as if...
You're telling a friend
about something I've done.
- Is there more bread?
- Here.
- Let's toast another one.
- In a minute.
When you were in the army
you were taken one night,
in the middle of the night,
snatched from your sleep,
you didn't know where,
they just said: "We're going..."
It's not polite to speak
and eat at the same time.
They put you on a bus
and said:
"We're going on a revenge mission
"to kill four Palestinians."
I don't think you asked
too many questions.
You were all highly motivated and...
thrilled and delighted
to finally realize
your wet dream of...
killing some Arabs.
Then you arrived somewhere.
You had no idea where.
I think it was...
I don't remember the name.
But it seemed...
like a God-forsaken place,
not much there except for
a Palestinian police outpost.
All you knew is that
terrorists came from there...
Okay, the day before...
Some terrorists came
from that area
and killed...
two soldiers.
I think...
or five...
or six...
and killed six soldiers.
So an order was given
by whoever it was at the time...
Who was it?
The Chief of Staff gave the order,
and you were sent to kill
four people...
in their stead?
It's just so absurd.
I don't have the exact words
to describe it.
It happened somewhere out there,
don't bring it over here.
Just don't bring out there,
over here.
It's a story about a soldier
who was raised to be
one of the hot-shots.
Who was cultivated to wait
until they let him,
until they let him charge.
Until they let him feel the itch.
His service will soon be over,
so they ordered:
"Go on, gallop!
"Down the valley,
up the mountain."
Until they let him
until they let him charge.
Where was this checkpoint?
I have no idea.
I don't remember where it was.
How can you go on a mission,
be ordered to do this and that,
- and you don't even know where it is?
- Yes.
On nearly all the missions
I went on, and there were many,
I had no idea where I was.
When the 2nd Intifada began,
we had a lot of work.
I'd return to base on
Sunday morning with my gear,
go to my room and fall asleep.
They'd wake me and say:
"Come."
I'd take my vest and pillow,
get on the bus
and go back to sleep.
I'd wake up in another camp,
get in an armored vehicle,
and fall asleep.
I'd wake up in an Arab village,
do what we had to do,
and get back in the armored vehicle.
I had no idea if we'd turned
right or left when we left the base.
Whether we'd headed to
Hebron, Jenin or Gaza.
No idea.
Are you interested in going there?
I'm not afraid.
I have no problem going there.
That's not the issue...
Does it...
Does it occur to you
that you'd go there
and someone might recognize you?
Oh, that's... Hang on.
That's a different issue,
because that scares me.
Of all the interviews I've given,
this is the first time
I've agreed to be filmed.
And I want my face concealed
because I'm very afraid.
Afraid someone might decide
to take revenge on me,
which would be very easy.
It scares me to think
that someone whose father
I shot at that checkpoint,
might kill me in revenge.
Yet I think I committed a war crime.
If I ever want to go to London,
I could be arrested
and prosecuted.
Do you ever dream that
one of the men you killed
sees you and recognizes you?
No, I'm in denial
about the whole thing.
I try to look at it from
every possible angle,
yet I'm in a serious state of denial
or emotional indifference.
I'm not afraid that...
I'm in denial...
I'm not afraid that someone
will see me and recognize me.
I don't dream about it either.
The faces of the dead
don't haunt me at night.
That never happens.
I remember my own comrades.
Do you remember their faces?
One of them.
The one I confirmed his death.
I remember his face.
It's a story about a soldier.
It was passed and gone
but two years later he recalled
That freezing night
when they let him,
finally, let him charge.
So just don't bring out there,
over here.
Okay, it's here.
It's here. We've arrived.
Well done, Avi.
- This is it.
- Really?
Really.
Totally.
This is where the checkpoint was.
I can't believe I'm here.
- I want a cigarette.
- Me too.
Okay, I'm getting out.
Hope nobody shoots me.
It's absolutely here.
No shit.
Okay, let's look for
our hide-out.
There's nothing here.
Look what a nice long shot
I'm giving you, Philippe.
We were more or less like this...
Unbelievable!
It was there.
We hid here, that's for sure.
I feel like I'm not telling
it accurately.
Because we haven't talked
about it all that much.
I'm telling it cynically because
the whole episode seems cynical.
I'm having a hard time
because I'm supposed
to empathize with you.
Yet, it's absurd for me to empathize
with such a thing.
It's a collaboration that
began all of a sudden.
A collaboration that is,
perhaps, out of place.
My wife asks me not to film him
here in our living room.
She says:
"This is not material for a movie!"
She doesn't understand
where it all leads.
Why help him find his way?
It's a filthy fable,
not a three-penny 'musical'!"
She says:
"This is not material for a movie!"
"He's playing the repentant sinner,
"and you're in the role
of the supposed observer.
"He's purging himself
through you
"and you will cash-in on
another profound film.
"Stop flirting with evil,
"you and he are not
in the same boat.
"And promise you won't film him
"here, in our living room!"
She says:
"This is not material for a movie!"
We got there. I was
my commander's signal operator.
- He led the force?
- The unit commander led the force.
There we were,
waiting and waiting.
It was freezing.
I was shivering.
I was on my knees shaking with cold,
but also with fear.
I dozed off gradually
and awoke quite suddenly.
I heard:
"We've spotted them!"
I woke up with
my back to the checkpoint.
I was covering the rear.
I understood they
were approaching.
I turned around,
but didn't see anyone.
I didn't have a good angle,
and the radio was cumbersome.
We signaled the sector commander
for authorization.
But no one responded
and no one responded...
They were really close now,
like 20 meters away,
so my unit commander
reported a run-in with them,
and authorized the operation.
Then the snipers...
- But you didn't run into them.
- We didn't. We spotted them.
A "run-in" is when they shoot
at you. They didn't shoot.
We hid here and we had...
We sat here behind the wall.
I looked back.
Then...
They came up...
I didn't see them.
I had my back to them.
I was covering the rear.
They came up and went behind
the other barrier...
the other ditch.
Then we pounced on them.
We shot and shot and shot.
And I ran and ran and ran.
What a trip,
I don't even remember this ditch.
Okay.
The checkpoint was
exactly where the car is now.
Before that burnt-out part,
see where it looks burnt?
There was this semi-wall,
or maybe a boulder,
I don't remember which.
Somewhere here, we fired.
I hit someone over there
and he fell to the ground.
There was a Palestinian policeman
who ran into a tin shed.
And the one who fell on the ground,
someone else shot him too,
and said:
"Wow, I hit him! I hit him!"
All excited.
The guy lay behind a terrace
with his lower body sticking out,
from the waist down.
And three of us
riddled his legs with bullets.
We shot and shot and shot.
All of us, me too.
Then we went after
the guy in the shed.
There were two
butane tanks beside it.
We fired at the shed
and it exploded.
The shed went up in flames.
- Didn't the heat reach you?
- The heat reached us.
You're talking about it
with sterility.
Yes.
Weren't you worried
that you would...?
When I charged at them,
I saw myself from above.
I saw myself running
from a bird's-eye-view.
I thought:
"Wow! Look how my body
is moving all by itself!"
Boom boom boom!
Changing cartridges,
feeling no pain.
My body is like a robot,
and it's thrilling!
I look around, and
we're all running and it's fun!
And we're smiling.
Not amused like: "Ha, ha, ha!"
But everyone is on
an adrenaline high.
On uppers,
we're all on uppers.
When we shot those legs,
they were shots of joy.
Ta ta ta!
With smiles on our faces.
Then we went to the tin shed.
We shot it and shot it
and suddenly it exploded!
Our response wasn't: "Oh no!"
It was: "Wow!"
That was our response.
The mood was...
Like a trip to the amusement park.
...It was fun.
You were told you were
going on a revenge mission.
And you went with
your eyes shut and did it.
And you said you enjoyed it.
You were so out of whack
you could actually enjoy
doing something so horrific.
- Yes.
- So anybody...
You can't avoid the fact
that you're responsible
for the feelings you had.
And that you didn't think for
a second about right or wrong.
You didn't stop to think:
What are we doing?
Who are we killing?
Why are we killing?
Why are we enjoying this?
You can't just blame
whoever sent you there.
Of course these
questions came up.
Why am I enjoying it?
Why are we killing?
Stuff like that. But it's not...
If you had to tell my story
through my eyes,
to imitate me.
If I were directing you
like an actress,
I'd tell you to go to
a place that is both
guilt-ridden but also,
given the situation,
lacking any ability...
Unable to resist it.
I see what you're saying,
but as an actress
I'd have a hard time
getting into this character.
Maybe to you and others,
I seem naive,
or hypocritical
or sanctimonious.
But I just don't understand
how you could have felt...
joy, pleasure, intoxication.
I really don't.
If I tried to get into character,
I'd imagine a psycho-killer.
Seriously, some kind of...
- Lady Macbeth.
- I didn't see Lady Macbeth.
It's a play.
I didn't see it.
- Something totally...
- Babe, you think I'm a murderer?
I... No... I...
No, I don't think you're a murderer.
But...
It's clear why the families
of the people you killed...
I'd like to know...
Did you or your commanders
bother to find out
who they were,
their names, ages, families?
- No, nobody knew.
- Nobody knew.
I'm under this mask
because I'm afraid of it.
Yes, but...
Nobody knew.
Clearly these people
had families and lives.
And clearly the wife
of the man who died,
and his children,
see you as a murderer.
- And you?
- What about me?
Do you see me as a murderer?
When you first told
me this story,
I got really scared.
I didn't want to believe it.
I had this thought that...
The man facing me
really killed someone.
Actually he murdered someone!
It's murder!
He murdered someone.
It was premeditated.
It was murder.
He wasn't a terrorist.
It wasn't...
an act of self-defense.
It wasn't during a chase.
He wasn't even a terrorist.
They were just standing there
doing their job.
They were killed in revenge.
It was murder.
And you were part of it.
So what can I say?
It's a complex situation.
I don't know the details
or see things in-depth
from your perspective.
I see it my way.
I'm sure you see it differently.
But somehow,
whoever was there,
whether or not they
shot someone to death
or just shot in general.
It was...
Murder.
- It was murder.
- And do you forgive me?
Oy, I'm harboring a murderer
Oy, inside my film.
It should be
between you and yourself,
or the people you wronged,
which is unlikely to happen.
Oy, I'm harboring a murderer
Oy, inside my film.
He murdered someone.
You know, it calls for
some kind of forgiveness
or acceptance.
At first it was really hard for me.
That's why we
didn't talk about it.
Whenever we did,
we either had a fight
or we ended up feeling
cold and terribly distant.
Like now.
Oy, my wife says that
Oy, you cannot forgive
a murderer.
The fact that you care
and it's troubling you,
is partial consolation.
Oy, my wife says that
Oy, you cannot forgive
a murderer.
If you weren't dealing with it
or troubled by it
or digging into it
and involved in this film...
In short, you're outing it.
It's troubling you, and
you're dealing with it.
But if you weren't,
if you didn't care,
I don't think that...
If it was just
a past experience,
a story you don't know
how to relate to...
This isn't the case,
so it's irrelevant, but...
Oy, but between us,
Oy, you can forgive a murderer.
Fact is,
oy, I'm harboring a murderer
Oy, inside my film.
Then we advanced and joined forces.
The two machine-gunners up front
said they saw someone go into...
Someone ran down the road
into the fenced-in area.
So my commander and I ran
over there with another guy.
Hello.
Now there's a fruit orchard here.
But then there was nothing
but boulders.
We got here,
I leaned against the wall,
the other guy climbed up
and shot and shot and shot.
Then we traded places, and
I saw someone on the ground.
I couldn't identify him,
but I shot anyway.
Behind this wall,
that didn't have an orchard.
We identified him and retreated
to the first guy I shot.
They told me to confirm he was dead.
He was riddled with bullets.
A 55 year old man
with a white mustache.
An older man, a little fat.
He was riddled with bullets
and was obviously not alive.
I wanted to check
if he had a weapon.
I went to move him
and the two machine-gunners
covering me
were like: "Yuck!"
"Don't touch him with your hands!
That's disgusting!"
And I said: "Yeah, I don't
really want to touch him."
So I tried to move him with
my foot, but it didn't work.
I flipped him over
using my hand and foot,
to see if he had a weapon,
but he didn't.
It really was disgusting.
It was the first time I touched...
the first time I saw
a dead person.
The first time I touched
a corpse, and it had this...
texture...
I remember a texture like...
like...
jelly.
Something soft
that slips from my hand.
If pressed too hard, it'll squish
through my fingers like jelly.
It was disgusting.
He wasn't armed,
so we headed back.
How can I sing about it
instead of shrugging it off,
instead of turning him in
to whoever may arrest him.
How can I live with
all my good intentions
when there is
no table to bang on,
no court-of-law to turn to.
Instead of shrugging it off,
instead of turning him in,
to whoever may arrest him,
I just sing about it.
Now tell my story
as if you'd been there.
As if it's you,
like putting on a show?
As if it's me.
What do you mean?
I don't know how.
- You've heard me tell it.
- Give me a drag.
I don't have a cigarette.
- What? "We went..."
- Yes.
I won't tell it any differently.
"We went..."
- But I don't remember the details.
- Never mind, imagine it.
Okay.
Make it up.
- Come on, tell me.
- Wait, I'm thinking.
Our commander
woke us up one night...
Great masculine voice!
We were really tired from
the patrol the day before,
we only slept 2 hours...
- I'm not good at this.
- You're excellent.
They woke us up,
gave us 5 minutes to get ready,
"Take your weapons..."
It's clear I wasn't in the army.
We got on buses,
I slept the whole way.
Enough with this voice,
it's confusing me.
I slept the whole way,
I woke up when I heard:
"Let's go, your moment has come...
"Take courage, men...
"Your turn..."
Okay, not "your turn."
I'm trying to think of phrases,
but it's not working.
What, masculine army phrases?
- Like what?
- Like...
All those phrases
I don't know how to say.
Those things you said
made you feel like...
"We're taking this hill."
"Liquidate the enemy."
In short,
we got there,
saw a bunch of Arabs...
We understood our mission.
All we wanted was to...
- stick 'em.
- Shove a bullet up their ass.
Everyone was very excited.
I don't feel like doing this.
You're wiping off your...
- You're sweating...
- My body wants to be itself.
It's rebelling against
the attempt to erase me.
- Really?
- I think so.
At least it troubles him...
Amazing, there's nothing here.
And he's struggling with it.
At least he's struggling with
having turned a man
into a stain.
He shot him at point-blank.
Those positioned here
missed out on all the action.
And he enjoyed it.
And now he's struggling with
having enjoyed it.
And now he's blaming them
for having to take part in it,
for wanting to take part in it,
being happy to take part in it.
If they opened fire
on us now, you know?
That would be symbolic.
The whole episode would
be symbolic, somehow.
If the son of the...
But in the end,
who enjoys it?
I enjoy it.
That now he's struggling with
having enjoyed it.
Truth is, it eats me up inside
that I'm driven to sing about
how he shot him like a stain
and that I can
forgive him for it.
I saw he was unarmed,
so we retreated.
The two gunners threw
a grenade into the burning tin shed,
and we walked away.
We went back to the settlement
from which we'd set out
and waited for 7-8 hours
until they picked us up.
Then they picked us up,
and I went home.
I went on a date with Karin.
We went to see my friend
Roy's band perform.
He gave a hell of a show.
On that night.
- The whole event took 20 minutes.
- What event?
Everything that happened,
the whole story, start to finish.
- You said you waited...
- Without the waiting.
The shooting took 20 minutes.
And the policemen?
They were policemen, right?
- Palestinian policemen.
- What did they do?
They fled.
Did they yell?
I don't remember hearing them.
Did you think about them at all?
What, about their families?
Who they were, what they felt?
No.
How did they seem
to you at the time?
I hardly saw them.
All I saw was gray stains running.
But what were you thinking?
"I'm killing a man."
Or "I'm killing a terrorist."
Or "I'm killing an Arab."
Or weren't you thinking...?
You don't think.
It's like target practice.
You don't think it's a human being.
It's not as if we heard
cries of pain. Nothing.
- Why not?
- The shooting was so noisy.
Was there anyone who tried...
to put his hands up in the air?
No.
It wouldn't have helped.
We'd have shot him.
And after you finished
and waited for the bus,
did you talk about it?
Only bragging:
"I came from here and saw him run.
"I shot him, didn't you see?"
On that level.
But only for a half an hour.
After that we dozed off.
And you didn't discuss
the meaning of the operation?
Who they were
that they had to be killed?
When we got back to base,
it was like...
The guys called it "the massacre."
Like a macabre joke.
And you didn't feel guilty at all?
Not in the classical
sense of the word.
I didn't feel guilty like:
"Oy, the poor
Palestinian policeman."
I didn't think of him
as an individual.
But were it the other way around
you'd have been horrified.
Yes.
I remember when we reached the base
that had lost the six soldiers,
everyone was crying,
the whole base was in tears.
I remember two secretaries
sitting outside and sobbing.
Of course, it doesn't diminish
the killing of the soldiers.
It's always horrible
when people die.
I'm trying to say something else.
I'm saying something else.
I remember being filled with pride,
as if I'd done something good.
You didn't even kill the guy
who killed those soldiers.
I killed someone who had
nothing to do with it.
Yes.
He was just doing his job.
We could also talk about
what it means
to kill someone who did
kill another person,
but what did he
have to do with it?
Where's the pride in that?
I don't know, it's like...
You see yourself at war.
There's a big difference between
how I saw it then
and how I see it now.
Or between my
cognitive abilities then
and my cognitive abilities today.
You're a soldier.
It's like you're at war.
Your side is good,
and the other side is bad.
- How many policemen were killed?
- Two.
Didn't you once say four?
No, I said there were
supposed to be six,
but I know for sure
that two were killed.
And at the other sites
were more killed?
Yeah, but more.
- How many people died that day?
- I don't know.
Now you tell it.
Let's stop this.
Stop it.
On the top.
Do you think
the frame is good?
Yeah?
Yeah.
Okay, talk.
Me?
I don't know,
I don't feel like it...
Seriously,
this whole thing...
It's obvious you're
talking to the camera.
I know, I feel it.
I feel the camera on my face.
Come,
let's try to do it.
- Come.
- Come.
- Should I sit up straight?
- Sit like this.
It feels impolite.
Who cares if it's polite?
You already look bad in this story,
so...
I don't look bad.
It's not true. I look...
You're talking as if
you have an audience.
I know how you talk
when we're alone.
How do I talk when
I'm alone with you?
You sound like you're
trying to impress someone.
- So how do I talk when...
- See?
I know,
I can't do it.
Fuck it!
Fuck this whole thing...
- See?
- I can't do it.
You're even swearing
self-consciously.
Do you know where
this idea came from?
Talk to me and not to
an imaginary audience.
- I'm not...
- Talk to me. There's nobody here.
I just lit this.
Give me the ashtray.
Anyway, do you know why
this whole idea came up?
Last time,
when I filmed myself at home,
at one point I talked to you.
About...
how you didn't understand...
Both you and Avi told me
you couldn't understand...
How I could do it...
As if I had a choice.
- Like I said.
- And I say I didn't have a choice.
And that's what we've
been fighting about.
Like the fight we had when
we didn't speak for 2 days.
Can I?
Is the camera rolling?
Okay.
This is how the film begins.
Okay?
An unidentified figure
wearing a hood
faces the camera and waits
for the crew to set up
and tell him everything's ready
so he can begin.
When they say the camera is rolling,
the figure takes a piece of paper
and begins to read a testimony:
"Then one evening,
"we were driving along Road 443,
"back when there were
still shootings on 443,
"we went to arrest
a 'wanted' Palestinian."
The figure reads
a sentence or two and says:
"Look, this is impossible.
"Let's cut some holes."
So the wardrobe assistant
comes in with little scissors
and cuts holes...
for his eyes...
and his mouth.
Maybe at this point Michael,
my younger son,
will walk in from his room
down the hall
and stare in amazement at
what his father is doing.
He's familiar with...
But this time,
it's stranger than usual.
Or else he'll sit there
and watch us,
like a bunch of retarded adults.
So, maybe there'll be
something with Michael.
Then the figure
will continue with the testimony.
"And suddenly our bus stopped.
"I don't remember
where we were headed.
"It stopped for two hours.
"Our commanders got on
their mobile phones.
"Finally, we headed to
the base of Battalion 605."
Listen,
I can't breathe like this.
And the figure asks
to cut a hole for his nose
because it's simply...
He continues:
"We entered a briefing room,
our commander went upstairs,
"we heard there'd been an attack.
"Six soldiers were killed
at a checkpoint on a foggy night."
At this point, the figure
can't continue...
and takes off the hood.
We discover it's the director,
all sweaty and flushed...
He says:
"Listen, I don't know.
"We can't do it like this.
"We need another solution.
"No one can testify like this."
At this point, you...
There'll be a piano there.
You'll come in
and sit at the piano,
with earphones, etc.,
like a soundman,
and start improvising something.
From this point on,
it's all music.
Whenever we return
to the director's living room,
it's all song and...
No more talk.
If the wife comes in,
no problem.
If the son is there,
or the dog, it's cool.
Hi honey.
What perfect timing.
Want me to go?
On the contrary, I was hoping
you or Michael would come in.
It's part of the scene.
I won't participate in this movie.
I'll put a hood over your head,
like I did over mine.
I filmed myself with a hood.
- Want one?
- No.
I enlisted in 1999,
after volunteering with
a leftist youth movement.
I did 20 months of "Yael"
reconnaissance unit training.
Then I was a combat soldier.
It's a small "elite" unit.
It feels like you could be
thrown out anytime.
That's how elite units work.
You do your best
not to be thrown out.
The training period is
divided into a few parts.
First, regular basic training
and then unit basic training.
Ten weeks in the woods,
twenty guys in two tents.
We live in those tents
and everything happens there.
It's 99% humiliation and harassment
and 1% field skills.
Down on the ground!
Forward charge! etc.
And what you do more than anything
is make long treks
and carry weights.
At my peak, toward the end,
I could carry 100%
of my body weight.
I carried the equivalent
of my self for a week.
We had to carry as much
as possible, and we'd compete.
I remember trying
to reach 82 kilos.
I'd eat to gain weight,
to raise my percentages,
to carry with the big boys.
Are you mad at me?
What?
I'm asking if you're mad
at me for what I did.
- What is this, an interview?
- Yes.
I can't look over there
when I see you here.
Look over here.
Do I have to answer?
The truth?
The honest truth.
Am I mad at you?
Not as much as I was...
But now that we're
talking about it, yes.
I mean no, but...
I can't stand this camera.
If I tell you the truth
you'll be offended.
Maybe you think it's
good for the film, but...
Tell me.
When you first told me,
I was mad.
And then?
- Will you stop it a second?
- Yes.
You didn't stop it, liar.
Why stop it?
Just tell me.
It's weird to talk about it now.
It's not related to anything.
Yes it does,
it's something I'm dealing with...
It comes up in our lives
from time to time.
But I can't just talk
about it all of a sudden.
In the middle of the morning,
with a sore throat, in India.
I asked you to stop filming.
I'm not retarded.
I see the red light is on.
Since its heyday in Lebanon,
where it would lay
explosive devices,
the unit hasn't done a thing.
The soldiers mainly work out
at the gym or go running.
That's 99% of what we'd do.
We'd see lots of plays.
- "Culture Sundays"?
- Yeah.
We'd go to the weekly ball game,
we'd get free tickets...
But otherwise do nothing.
Occasionally,
a big plan would get drawn up,
and we'd start
training for it big time.
Blow up a house here,
do something else there.
But it never happened.
It always got canceled.
Until the 2nd Intifada began.
Then, I was already a combat soldier,
the unit began looking for "jobs".
We realized "action" wouldn't come
unless we went looking for it.
What do you mean?
We went to Beit Jala.
The commanders there
realized they had...
a great combat unit
with nothing to do,
and they could send us
on the worst missions,
because we're so hungry for action
and eager to kill,
that we'd do anything.
After Beit Jala we returned to base,
we had this terrible feeling
that everyone else
gets to do things,
while we, an elite unit,
don't get to do anything.
It's an IDF thing.
Every soldier feels like
they're in the best unit,
with the best fighters,
their operations
are the most amazing.
Everyone is Chuck Norris.
Everyone.
We did too.
And it's frustrating,
with all this build-up,
to find yourself at home,
I mean on base,
just jerking off.
Okay.
Shall we do it?
Okay.
Are we rolling?
Okay, cool.
Mask his face
so we can talk to him.
Leave a hole for his nose
and two eyes,
so we can sense his smile.
He says he must
leave the past behind.
He has good reason
to be afraid.
And he has good reason
to feel... exclu...
...excluded.
But he has no reason
to feel exceptional.
It turns out...
he's just another bench-warmer.
Mask his face
so we can
continue to imagine him.
Leave a hole for his nose
and two eyes,
so we can sense his smile.
That nothing about him is evil,
that he is the model
taken-for-granted son of his parents.
Mask his face.
Mask his face.
Other than the B-part where
I keep getting mixed up,
because I can't stand
the lyrics there.
- You wrote them.
- I wrote them...
So I'll be the one
to slit my wrists.
I can't wait...
You're right, it's not great.
Okay, but let's do it.
We'll sing it like this
and work on it later.
Yeah, let's lighten it up a little.
Mask his face so we can...
More conversational.
Mask his face
so we can talk to him.
- Okay, let's do it.
- Okay.
Mask his face...
Okay, where to today?
The same place,
but this time for real.
I assume you found out
where it is.
No one knows. Not even...
So without me
nothing would...?
He didn't know.
The guy I thought would know,
didn't know either.
Good thing I'm here.
What did you find out?
Here it is. We were at Halamish.
Yes.
And it's at Deir as-Sudan?
Here's Deir as-Sudan.
From Halamish we need to
drive toward Ateret,
and then left.
It's not far.
How do you know it's
at Deir as-Sudan?
- I found your fingerprints there.
- Cut it out.
Seriously.
Deir as-Sudan is on a ridge.
It's like...
Deir as-Sudan is up on a ridge.
That's a problem.
Look, it might be wrong.
Maybe I'm wrong.
Hello.
We're heading this way...
This is Umm Safafa.
- Umm Safafa?
- Umm Safafa.
It's also blocked.
- No, it's not.
- No?
There's something very gratifying
about being Ronny from the
"Yael" reconnaissance unit,
or Danny from the commando,
or Ronny the combat pilot.
There's something
powerful about it.
I'm Ronny the F16 pilot.
What's up?
In my masculine imagination
I'm fucking girls like...
Superman.
Now, we kept looking for
ways to justify this.
We were dying to
get some action,
or do something
really dramatic.
And then we got to do
house-to-house searches.
From morning to night,
sometimes only at night.
You go to someone's house
and knock on the door:
"Open the door! Army!"
They open the door,
tak tak tak!
In go 6-7 armed soldiers,
ta ta ta tam!
We put everyone in one room,
on their knees,
women and all.
We take one of them
and go room by room,
looking through their stuff.
In my unit there are 12 guys,
the cream of the crop,
great guys each and every one,
with values and ideals.
So the first time you enter
a home you move stuff carefully,
glance at documents,
put everything back,
speak courteously.
By the 4th day you're shouting,
shoving them around,
turning things upside down,
tense from every move.
It happens because
there's serious burnout.
They keep telling you that in
the next house there's a terrorist,
next time there'll be a clash,
and you're dying
for it to happen.
You've spent 20 months
training for it.
If anyone dares point
a weapon at us,
we'll kick his ass and kill him,
if only he dares.
We teamed up with
the "Nahshon" unit
to occupy the Kasbah
of some village.
At the briefing,
the "Nahshon" commander says:
"We're facing a real tough battle.
"Some of you won't make it back.
"There'll be intense shooting...
Be sure to fire at..."
The rules of engagement
were to shoot
even a kid with a stone.
A kid with a stone
was fair game.
- Live ammunition?
- Of course.
When told: "It'll be a tough battle,
some of you won't make it back,
"shoot whoever threatens you."
I shoot whoever threatens me,
and everybody is a threat.
Any male over 5 years old
is a threat.
That's how you feel.
Here?
Let's ask the...
Hello, where's the road
to Deir as-Sudan?
From here.
- On the right.
- On the right? Thank you.
Dig my Arabic?
Yeah, this is cool.
I think.
- Something here doesn't feel right.
- It doesn't?
Maybe I'm wrong.
This village looks too high.
But maybe it's
on the other side, I don't know.
What can I say, babe?
I'm left with
the feeling that
I could and should
have acted differently.
That theoretically
I was strong enough to do so,
and now all I can do
is live with my guilt.
All I can do,
as far as you're concerned...
All you can do
is stir up these
feelings of guilt.
There was a place from which
the Palestinians kept shooting
at an Israeli army post.
And they didn't manage to...
The angle was such that
they couldn't shoot back.
The Palestinians had these
cement bags for protection.
So our plan was to booby-trap
one of those bags.
Two guys from my unit
were sent to train for the job,
together with another unit.
They trained and trained,
until they finally did it.
Beforehand, a guy from my unit
said there was a problem
because you can't see
what's going on.
To activate the charge
you need to push a button,
but you can't really see.
There's no eye contact.
You can't know exactly
when to activate it.
Then...
contrary to my unit's
recommendation,
they decided to put
a touch-sensitive device.
If you as much as touch this thing,
it explodes.
They set up the device,
and the next day
five kids on their way to school...
Sorry, four kids
on their way to school
stepped on it and
were blown to bits.
Four brothers...
were killed.
I feel like...
I'm seeking forgiveness.
I'm looking for someone to
absolve me of this whole thing.
But you won't...
I wanted you to forgive me so much.
When I told you about it
and we fought.
And you haven't forgiven me.
You won't absolve me.
I'm asking you
to forgive me, somehow.
But you won't.
But now I'm able to forgive you,
and I understand your
need to be absolved.
It really is, as you say,
"forgiveness."
You didn't use this term before.
Forgiveness is when
you've done something
and you regret it
and ask to be forgiven for it.
You want someone
to acknowledge your regret.
It wasn't always like that.
At first you just wanted me
to understand you,
to hug you and tell you
I understand why you did it,
even if it was wrong.
And now that you're older
and wiser, it's okay,
because you were
just young and foolish.
I didn't accept it then,
and I don't accept it now.
My forgiveness presumes
that now as an adult
you can reflect on it...
and understand it...
and you're angry
about it and hate it.
See what I mean?
My forgiveness is to try
to understand psychologically
how a person can do
such a thing.
Maybe it sounds patronizing,
but I know, at least I hope,
that in a similar situation
I'd act differently.
One night we went out on
a search and seizure operation.
We were based at Ofer camp,
on Road 443,
back when there were still
shootings on 443.
We were on the bus
and suddenly it stopped,
I don't remember
where we were headed.
Something happened.
We didn't know what.
The bus stopped for two hours.
Our commanders got on their phones.
Finally, we headed to the base
of Battalion 605.
Right?
Engineering Corps.
We entered a briefing room,
and our commander went upstairs.
While we waited,
we heard there'd been an attack.
Six Engineering Corps soldiers
were killed at a checkpoint.
Shot at close range
on a foggy night.
Our commander returns and says
that we're going on
a revenge mission.
An eye for an eye.
They killed six of ours,
we'll kill six of theirs.
They showed us on the map
a Palestinian checkpoint.
The idea was
to go there at night
and when they came
in the morning,
kill the Palestinian policemen
who manned it.
Three other units were to do
the same at three other sites.
Paratroopers, reconnaissance
and another engineering unit.
- Can we trade places?
- No.
Okay, bon appetite.
Tell me my story.
- What, and ruin my meal?
- Yes.
What do you mean by "tell"?
Tell it as if...
You're telling a friend
about something I've done.
- Is there more bread?
- Here.
- Let's toast another one.
- In a minute.
When you were in the army
you were taken one night,
in the middle of the night,
snatched from your sleep,
you didn't know where,
they just said: "We're going..."
It's not polite to speak
and eat at the same time.
They put you on a bus
and said:
"We're going on a revenge mission
"to kill four Palestinians."
I don't think you asked
too many questions.
You were all highly motivated and...
thrilled and delighted
to finally realize
your wet dream of...
killing some Arabs.
Then you arrived somewhere.
You had no idea where.
I think it was...
I don't remember the name.
But it seemed...
like a God-forsaken place,
not much there except for
a Palestinian police outpost.
All you knew is that
terrorists came from there...
Okay, the day before...
Some terrorists came
from that area
and killed...
two soldiers.
I think...
or five...
or six...
and killed six soldiers.
So an order was given
by whoever it was at the time...
Who was it?
The Chief of Staff gave the order,
and you were sent to kill
four people...
in their stead?
It's just so absurd.
I don't have the exact words
to describe it.
It happened somewhere out there,
don't bring it over here.
Just don't bring out there,
over here.
It's a story about a soldier
who was raised to be
one of the hot-shots.
Who was cultivated to wait
until they let him,
until they let him charge.
Until they let him feel the itch.
His service will soon be over,
so they ordered:
"Go on, gallop!
"Down the valley,
up the mountain."
Until they let him
until they let him charge.
Where was this checkpoint?
I have no idea.
I don't remember where it was.
How can you go on a mission,
be ordered to do this and that,
- and you don't even know where it is?
- Yes.
On nearly all the missions
I went on, and there were many,
I had no idea where I was.
When the 2nd Intifada began,
we had a lot of work.
I'd return to base on
Sunday morning with my gear,
go to my room and fall asleep.
They'd wake me and say:
"Come."
I'd take my vest and pillow,
get on the bus
and go back to sleep.
I'd wake up in another camp,
get in an armored vehicle,
and fall asleep.
I'd wake up in an Arab village,
do what we had to do,
and get back in the armored vehicle.
I had no idea if we'd turned
right or left when we left the base.
Whether we'd headed to
Hebron, Jenin or Gaza.
No idea.
Are you interested in going there?
I'm not afraid.
I have no problem going there.
That's not the issue...
Does it...
Does it occur to you
that you'd go there
and someone might recognize you?
Oh, that's... Hang on.
That's a different issue,
because that scares me.
Of all the interviews I've given,
this is the first time
I've agreed to be filmed.
And I want my face concealed
because I'm very afraid.
Afraid someone might decide
to take revenge on me,
which would be very easy.
It scares me to think
that someone whose father
I shot at that checkpoint,
might kill me in revenge.
Yet I think I committed a war crime.
If I ever want to go to London,
I could be arrested
and prosecuted.
Do you ever dream that
one of the men you killed
sees you and recognizes you?
No, I'm in denial
about the whole thing.
I try to look at it from
every possible angle,
yet I'm in a serious state of denial
or emotional indifference.
I'm not afraid that...
I'm in denial...
I'm not afraid that someone
will see me and recognize me.
I don't dream about it either.
The faces of the dead
don't haunt me at night.
That never happens.
I remember my own comrades.
Do you remember their faces?
One of them.
The one I confirmed his death.
I remember his face.
It's a story about a soldier.
It was passed and gone
but two years later he recalled
That freezing night
when they let him,
finally, let him charge.
So just don't bring out there,
over here.
Okay, it's here.
It's here. We've arrived.
Well done, Avi.
- This is it.
- Really?
Really.
Totally.
This is where the checkpoint was.
I can't believe I'm here.
- I want a cigarette.
- Me too.
Okay, I'm getting out.
Hope nobody shoots me.
It's absolutely here.
No shit.
Okay, let's look for
our hide-out.
There's nothing here.
Look what a nice long shot
I'm giving you, Philippe.
We were more or less like this...
Unbelievable!
It was there.
We hid here, that's for sure.
I feel like I'm not telling
it accurately.
Because we haven't talked
about it all that much.
I'm telling it cynically because
the whole episode seems cynical.
I'm having a hard time
because I'm supposed
to empathize with you.
Yet, it's absurd for me to empathize
with such a thing.
It's a collaboration that
began all of a sudden.
A collaboration that is,
perhaps, out of place.
My wife asks me not to film him
here in our living room.
She says:
"This is not material for a movie!"
She doesn't understand
where it all leads.
Why help him find his way?
It's a filthy fable,
not a three-penny 'musical'!"
She says:
"This is not material for a movie!"
"He's playing the repentant sinner,
"and you're in the role
of the supposed observer.
"He's purging himself
through you
"and you will cash-in on
another profound film.
"Stop flirting with evil,
"you and he are not
in the same boat.
"And promise you won't film him
"here, in our living room!"
She says:
"This is not material for a movie!"
We got there. I was
my commander's signal operator.
- He led the force?
- The unit commander led the force.
There we were,
waiting and waiting.
It was freezing.
I was shivering.
I was on my knees shaking with cold,
but also with fear.
I dozed off gradually
and awoke quite suddenly.
I heard:
"We've spotted them!"
I woke up with
my back to the checkpoint.
I was covering the rear.
I understood they
were approaching.
I turned around,
but didn't see anyone.
I didn't have a good angle,
and the radio was cumbersome.
We signaled the sector commander
for authorization.
But no one responded
and no one responded...
They were really close now,
like 20 meters away,
so my unit commander
reported a run-in with them,
and authorized the operation.
Then the snipers...
- But you didn't run into them.
- We didn't. We spotted them.
A "run-in" is when they shoot
at you. They didn't shoot.
We hid here and we had...
We sat here behind the wall.
I looked back.
Then...
They came up...
I didn't see them.
I had my back to them.
I was covering the rear.
They came up and went behind
the other barrier...
the other ditch.
Then we pounced on them.
We shot and shot and shot.
And I ran and ran and ran.
What a trip,
I don't even remember this ditch.
Okay.
The checkpoint was
exactly where the car is now.
Before that burnt-out part,
see where it looks burnt?
There was this semi-wall,
or maybe a boulder,
I don't remember which.
Somewhere here, we fired.
I hit someone over there
and he fell to the ground.
There was a Palestinian policeman
who ran into a tin shed.
And the one who fell on the ground,
someone else shot him too,
and said:
"Wow, I hit him! I hit him!"
All excited.
The guy lay behind a terrace
with his lower body sticking out,
from the waist down.
And three of us
riddled his legs with bullets.
We shot and shot and shot.
All of us, me too.
Then we went after
the guy in the shed.
There were two
butane tanks beside it.
We fired at the shed
and it exploded.
The shed went up in flames.
- Didn't the heat reach you?
- The heat reached us.
You're talking about it
with sterility.
Yes.
Weren't you worried
that you would...?
When I charged at them,
I saw myself from above.
I saw myself running
from a bird's-eye-view.
I thought:
"Wow! Look how my body
is moving all by itself!"
Boom boom boom!
Changing cartridges,
feeling no pain.
My body is like a robot,
and it's thrilling!
I look around, and
we're all running and it's fun!
And we're smiling.
Not amused like: "Ha, ha, ha!"
But everyone is on
an adrenaline high.
On uppers,
we're all on uppers.
When we shot those legs,
they were shots of joy.
Ta ta ta!
With smiles on our faces.
Then we went to the tin shed.
We shot it and shot it
and suddenly it exploded!
Our response wasn't: "Oh no!"
It was: "Wow!"
That was our response.
The mood was...
Like a trip to the amusement park.
...It was fun.
You were told you were
going on a revenge mission.
And you went with
your eyes shut and did it.
And you said you enjoyed it.
You were so out of whack
you could actually enjoy
doing something so horrific.
- Yes.
- So anybody...
You can't avoid the fact
that you're responsible
for the feelings you had.
And that you didn't think for
a second about right or wrong.
You didn't stop to think:
What are we doing?
Who are we killing?
Why are we killing?
Why are we enjoying this?
You can't just blame
whoever sent you there.
Of course these
questions came up.
Why am I enjoying it?
Why are we killing?
Stuff like that. But it's not...
If you had to tell my story
through my eyes,
to imitate me.
If I were directing you
like an actress,
I'd tell you to go to
a place that is both
guilt-ridden but also,
given the situation,
lacking any ability...
Unable to resist it.
I see what you're saying,
but as an actress
I'd have a hard time
getting into this character.
Maybe to you and others,
I seem naive,
or hypocritical
or sanctimonious.
But I just don't understand
how you could have felt...
joy, pleasure, intoxication.
I really don't.
If I tried to get into character,
I'd imagine a psycho-killer.
Seriously, some kind of...
- Lady Macbeth.
- I didn't see Lady Macbeth.
It's a play.
I didn't see it.
- Something totally...
- Babe, you think I'm a murderer?
I... No... I...
No, I don't think you're a murderer.
But...
It's clear why the families
of the people you killed...
I'd like to know...
Did you or your commanders
bother to find out
who they were,
their names, ages, families?
- No, nobody knew.
- Nobody knew.
I'm under this mask
because I'm afraid of it.
Yes, but...
Nobody knew.
Clearly these people
had families and lives.
And clearly the wife
of the man who died,
and his children,
see you as a murderer.
- And you?
- What about me?
Do you see me as a murderer?
When you first told
me this story,
I got really scared.
I didn't want to believe it.
I had this thought that...
The man facing me
really killed someone.
Actually he murdered someone!
It's murder!
He murdered someone.
It was premeditated.
It was murder.
He wasn't a terrorist.
It wasn't...
an act of self-defense.
It wasn't during a chase.
He wasn't even a terrorist.
They were just standing there
doing their job.
They were killed in revenge.
It was murder.
And you were part of it.
So what can I say?
It's a complex situation.
I don't know the details
or see things in-depth
from your perspective.
I see it my way.
I'm sure you see it differently.
But somehow,
whoever was there,
whether or not they
shot someone to death
or just shot in general.
It was...
Murder.
- It was murder.
- And do you forgive me?
Oy, I'm harboring a murderer
Oy, inside my film.
It should be
between you and yourself,
or the people you wronged,
which is unlikely to happen.
Oy, I'm harboring a murderer
Oy, inside my film.
He murdered someone.
You know, it calls for
some kind of forgiveness
or acceptance.
At first it was really hard for me.
That's why we
didn't talk about it.
Whenever we did,
we either had a fight
or we ended up feeling
cold and terribly distant.
Like now.
Oy, my wife says that
Oy, you cannot forgive
a murderer.
The fact that you care
and it's troubling you,
is partial consolation.
Oy, my wife says that
Oy, you cannot forgive
a murderer.
If you weren't dealing with it
or troubled by it
or digging into it
and involved in this film...
In short, you're outing it.
It's troubling you, and
you're dealing with it.
But if you weren't,
if you didn't care,
I don't think that...
If it was just
a past experience,
a story you don't know
how to relate to...
This isn't the case,
so it's irrelevant, but...
Oy, but between us,
Oy, you can forgive a murderer.
Fact is,
oy, I'm harboring a murderer
Oy, inside my film.
Then we advanced and joined forces.
The two machine-gunners up front
said they saw someone go into...
Someone ran down the road
into the fenced-in area.
So my commander and I ran
over there with another guy.
Hello.
Now there's a fruit orchard here.
But then there was nothing
but boulders.
We got here,
I leaned against the wall,
the other guy climbed up
and shot and shot and shot.
Then we traded places, and
I saw someone on the ground.
I couldn't identify him,
but I shot anyway.
Behind this wall,
that didn't have an orchard.
We identified him and retreated
to the first guy I shot.
They told me to confirm he was dead.
He was riddled with bullets.
A 55 year old man
with a white mustache.
An older man, a little fat.
He was riddled with bullets
and was obviously not alive.
I wanted to check
if he had a weapon.
I went to move him
and the two machine-gunners
covering me
were like: "Yuck!"
"Don't touch him with your hands!
That's disgusting!"
And I said: "Yeah, I don't
really want to touch him."
So I tried to move him with
my foot, but it didn't work.
I flipped him over
using my hand and foot,
to see if he had a weapon,
but he didn't.
It really was disgusting.
It was the first time I touched...
the first time I saw
a dead person.
The first time I touched
a corpse, and it had this...
texture...
I remember a texture like...
like...
jelly.
Something soft
that slips from my hand.
If pressed too hard, it'll squish
through my fingers like jelly.
It was disgusting.
He wasn't armed,
so we headed back.
How can I sing about it
instead of shrugging it off,
instead of turning him in
to whoever may arrest him.
How can I live with
all my good intentions
when there is
no table to bang on,
no court-of-law to turn to.
Instead of shrugging it off,
instead of turning him in,
to whoever may arrest him,
I just sing about it.
Now tell my story
as if you'd been there.
As if it's you,
like putting on a show?
As if it's me.
What do you mean?
I don't know how.
- You've heard me tell it.
- Give me a drag.
I don't have a cigarette.
- What? "We went..."
- Yes.
I won't tell it any differently.
"We went..."
- But I don't remember the details.
- Never mind, imagine it.
Okay.
Make it up.
- Come on, tell me.
- Wait, I'm thinking.
Our commander
woke us up one night...
Great masculine voice!
We were really tired from
the patrol the day before,
we only slept 2 hours...
- I'm not good at this.
- You're excellent.
They woke us up,
gave us 5 minutes to get ready,
"Take your weapons..."
It's clear I wasn't in the army.
We got on buses,
I slept the whole way.
Enough with this voice,
it's confusing me.
I slept the whole way,
I woke up when I heard:
"Let's go, your moment has come...
"Take courage, men...
"Your turn..."
Okay, not "your turn."
I'm trying to think of phrases,
but it's not working.
What, masculine army phrases?
- Like what?
- Like...
All those phrases
I don't know how to say.
Those things you said
made you feel like...
"We're taking this hill."
"Liquidate the enemy."
In short,
we got there,
saw a bunch of Arabs...
We understood our mission.
All we wanted was to...
- stick 'em.
- Shove a bullet up their ass.
Everyone was very excited.
I don't feel like doing this.
You're wiping off your...
- You're sweating...
- My body wants to be itself.
It's rebelling against
the attempt to erase me.
- Really?
- I think so.
At least it troubles him...
Amazing, there's nothing here.
And he's struggling with it.
At least he's struggling with
having turned a man
into a stain.
He shot him at point-blank.
Those positioned here
missed out on all the action.
And he enjoyed it.
And now he's struggling with
having enjoyed it.
And now he's blaming them
for having to take part in it,
for wanting to take part in it,
being happy to take part in it.
If they opened fire
on us now, you know?
That would be symbolic.
The whole episode would
be symbolic, somehow.
If the son of the...
But in the end,
who enjoys it?
I enjoy it.
That now he's struggling with
having enjoyed it.
Truth is, it eats me up inside
that I'm driven to sing about
how he shot him like a stain
and that I can
forgive him for it.
I saw he was unarmed,
so we retreated.
The two gunners threw
a grenade into the burning tin shed,
and we walked away.
We went back to the settlement
from which we'd set out
and waited for 7-8 hours
until they picked us up.
Then they picked us up,
and I went home.
I went on a date with Karin.
We went to see my friend
Roy's band perform.
He gave a hell of a show.
On that night.
- The whole event took 20 minutes.
- What event?
Everything that happened,
the whole story, start to finish.
- You said you waited...
- Without the waiting.
The shooting took 20 minutes.
And the policemen?
They were policemen, right?
- Palestinian policemen.
- What did they do?
They fled.
Did they yell?
I don't remember hearing them.
Did you think about them at all?
What, about their families?
Who they were, what they felt?
No.
How did they seem
to you at the time?
I hardly saw them.
All I saw was gray stains running.
But what were you thinking?
"I'm killing a man."
Or "I'm killing a terrorist."
Or "I'm killing an Arab."
Or weren't you thinking...?
You don't think.
It's like target practice.
You don't think it's a human being.
It's not as if we heard
cries of pain. Nothing.
- Why not?
- The shooting was so noisy.
Was there anyone who tried...
to put his hands up in the air?
No.
It wouldn't have helped.
We'd have shot him.
And after you finished
and waited for the bus,
did you talk about it?
Only bragging:
"I came from here and saw him run.
"I shot him, didn't you see?"
On that level.
But only for a half an hour.
After that we dozed off.
And you didn't discuss
the meaning of the operation?
Who they were
that they had to be killed?
When we got back to base,
it was like...
The guys called it "the massacre."
Like a macabre joke.
And you didn't feel guilty at all?
Not in the classical
sense of the word.
I didn't feel guilty like:
"Oy, the poor
Palestinian policeman."
I didn't think of him
as an individual.
But were it the other way around
you'd have been horrified.
Yes.
I remember when we reached the base
that had lost the six soldiers,
everyone was crying,
the whole base was in tears.
I remember two secretaries
sitting outside and sobbing.
Of course, it doesn't diminish
the killing of the soldiers.
It's always horrible
when people die.
I'm trying to say something else.
I'm saying something else.
I remember being filled with pride,
as if I'd done something good.
You didn't even kill the guy
who killed those soldiers.
I killed someone who had
nothing to do with it.
Yes.
He was just doing his job.
We could also talk about
what it means
to kill someone who did
kill another person,
but what did he
have to do with it?
Where's the pride in that?
I don't know, it's like...
You see yourself at war.
There's a big difference between
how I saw it then
and how I see it now.
Or between my
cognitive abilities then
and my cognitive abilities today.
You're a soldier.
It's like you're at war.
Your side is good,
and the other side is bad.
- How many policemen were killed?
- Two.
Didn't you once say four?
No, I said there were
supposed to be six,
but I know for sure
that two were killed.
And at the other sites
were more killed?
Yeah, but more.
- How many people died that day?
- I don't know.
Now you tell it.
Let's stop this.
Stop it.
On the top.