Documentary film Advocate (2019.) by Rachel Leah Jones and Philippe Bellaïche is the winner of the Movies that Matter prize on this year’s edition of the documentary film festival ZagrebDox. The film depicts the life and work of Israeli lawyer Lea Tsemel who, in her fifty-year career, specialized in defending Palestinian political prisoners. Since its first screenings at film festivals around the world in 2019, the film has received positive reactions, but also generated heated debate, while also entering the final selection for the Oscar award nominations.

We spoke to Jones and Bellaïche about their directorial process and decisions, the position of contemporary documentary filmmakers in Israel and funding possibilities available to Israeli and Palestinian directors.

KP: Advocate is, at the same time, a film about the Israeli legal system and a portray of the attorney Lea Tsemel. Could you tell us more about the choices you made as directors in “balancing” between these two powerful political topics?

P.B.: Advocate is a “character driven film” more than it is a political exposé or a personal portrait. Lea Tsemel’s legal work over the past five decades cannot be separated from the 50-year history of the occupation. As much as Lea was forced to comply with a would-be pre-existing legal framework (which, in fact, was contoured along with the occupation), her legal battles in and out of court influenced the jurisprudence of this framework. To put it simply, even if she did not stop the occupation, she did make it a bit more difficult for the occupier to occupy. As one military judge famously put it: “If Lea Tsemel didn’t exist, we’d have had to invent her.” Of course, in making this film, we wanted to hear Lea; even though what she believes in (in theory) and what she does (in practice) – can be summarized quite simply. What was more interesting to us was to see how she does what she does, to capture Lea in action.

KP: The majority of the plot, in which we follow Lea and her legal team in a variety of court proceedings and conversations with her defendants is presented very direct, even in a “classical documentary”, fly-on-the-wall and cinéma vérité style. Why did you decide to represent Lea and her work in this manner and what do you think how does this approach affect the perception of the plot?

P.B.: It was not so much a choice as a desire. The desire to document, to see (and show) how Lea, her colleagues, her clients, the legal system, and the media – operate. Scripting in documentary cannot be separated from the reality on the ground. We began with ideas about the themes we’d like to cover and how we’d like the film to look and feel – after the first scouting days. But already after the first shooting day we began to adapt and re-write. This re-writing began while filming and continued throughout editing. In fact, in this film, shooting and editing were not separate processes: we first filmed the “direct cinema,” what we called the “real time” footage, then edited it, and only after we had an assembly of that we began working on the archival research and interviews for the “past cases.”

During the “real time” phase, the “direct cinema” if you will, we followed five cases (in the film you see only two, and get a glimpse of the third). We couldn’t know in advance what reality was going to bring, nor which situations would best reveal the reality beyond this reality (i.e. the larger framework of occupation). Direct cinema is like slow food, you go out for a filming day and you capture whatever happens, even if it feels mundane, and with time, you train your gaze, and begin to see things, small details that you would not have seen if you had come to film one specific event or with too much of a preconceived agenda.

In Advocate, direct cinema has great influence on the viewer. With direct cinema we managed to give the viewer a dual perspective: to see Lea in the world and also the world according to Lea; to expose her point of view, and in a way, from there, to better understand her sense of juridical and political justice, or more simply, her own brand of humanism.

KP: Occasionally, the film takes us back to different moments of Lea’s past, which greatly contributes to the understanding of the context of her work. For what reason did you decide to include her private life in the film? What do you think this decision brought to the film?

P.B.: At the very beginning, we imagined we were going to film Lea at home as well as at work, with her family and friends, grandchildren and neighbours… and then, after we began to film, we understood that to film her at work, between the office and court, was enough. Lea the lawyer (as opposed to the mother, wife, etc.), is the woman we wanted to portray. But we also knew that there is no such thing as an abstract individual – behind profesional life there is personal life and the prices paid for dedicating oneself so unconditionally to your clients and their cause. With the testimonies of her children, who did not always have the mother they needed or wanted, we felt we were giving a rounder picture of the Lea, a rounder picture of the human condition.

KP: The question of ethics and the just representation of film subjects is already a well-known topic in documentary filmmaking. The central part of Advocate is the case of 13-year-old Ahmad who got sentenced for participating in an armed attack, even though he did not personally hurt anyone. For the purpose of protecting Ahmad’s identity, you used a very specific minimalistic animation. Why did you choose this particular way of representing Ahmad?

In Israel, the law is protecting the future of any minor involved in a legal process. You cannot reveal their identity. They have to be unrecognisable now or twenty years from now… This law is applying to any minor, and to Ahmad as well. Some news outlets did not comply with the law but most of them did, blurrying or pixelizing his face. But these techniques, apart from the fact that they are very connoted (it is usually the “bad one” that you are hiding behind a pixelated face) do not let us see the human being, his emotions… At best, we are looking at a mask… We decided to work with the animator Tal Kantor to create a multilayered rotoscope based on the video image. We were looking for a way to let transpire some facial expressions, to keep the humanity of the characters without anybody being able to identify them.

To compose some of the layers of the rotoscope, we intended to use some artefacts from Lea’s past. At her office we found old press clips, old legal documents that we used. Our idea was to remind ourselves, and the viewer of the 50 years of occupation. Today’s cases cannot be disconnected from this past.

We did not want to create a parallel world – the world of animation VS the real world. To make our point clear, we choose to split the image: one side for the video, the other for the animation, the multilayered rotoscope. As a result, you can see some shots where Lea is moving from one side of the image to the other side, from the unadulterated video footage to the rotoscope side. We did not think about it in advance, but when we saw these shots, we felt it was quite a good metaphor of what Lea does, moving seamlessly from one side of the reality to the other.

KP: Broadly speaking, how are the questions of representation of the Palestinian minority and Israeli-Palestinian relations posed and treated in contemporary Israeli documentary film?

R.L.J.: By and large, Israeli documentarians are politically left-leaning, and have tackled the Israeli-Palestinain conflict in myriad ways. These days, the well-meaning yet often patronizing  (perhaps even colonialist) notion of “giving voice” has largely been replaced with an “urban anthropology” practice of storytelling wherein the subject objectifies him/herself. In other words, Israelis are starting to document the occupier more than the occupied. This genre includes hard-hitting essay films as well as “shooting and crying” confessional films. Lea, in a sense, “occupies” an interesting middle as an occupier who identifies with the occupied. The danger of this film is a narcissistic eclipsing of the Palestinains altogether, something which we hope the politics of representation in Advocate manages to avoid.

KP: Is it possible to talk about this film as a “resistance film”and in what way you interpret its involvement in its immediate social and political context?

R.L.J.: A close friend of ours, an African American civil rights lawyer in the US, recently made an astute observation. “We,” she said in reference to the Black Lives Matter and other progressive movements for justice and equality, “do not resist. We are the ones being resisted! Nor do we persist; that feels too much like surviving rather than thriving. What we do is insist.” This idea might well apply to Lea Tsemel as a life practice and hopefully the film we made about her is of a similar quality.

KP: How do you look at the role of the contemporary documentary filmmaker in current global turmoils and how would you position yourself and your work in the aforementioned context?

R.L.J.: Godard once said: “What is Cinema? Nothing. What does Cinema want? Everything. What can Cinema do? Something.” We are in it for that something.

KP: Could you tell us more about the process of distribution of such strongly political films in Israel? To what extent is the festival system open for them?

R.L.J.: Israel is a democracy for the privileged, and we are counted among its privileged. Israel, while oppressive and repressive to Palestinians, is not an authoritarian society. For people like us, who express critical, perhaps dissident voices, it’s still pluralistic. This pluralism has decreased in recent years, but not disappeared. Film festivals, film funds, and private broadcasters remain some of the most open-minded and supportive cultural institutions for people like us. The question is what does all that pluralism mean without distributive justice, without equality for all.

KP: What is the cultural policy in Israel in relation to the public funding of films dealing with these kinds of political topics? What is the position of Palestinian directors in this context, are the institutions of public funding available to them equally?

R.L.J.: Our reception at DocAviv – the site of our Israeli premiere – was beyond our wildest expectations. Initially the film was scheduled for three screenings. Before the festival opened, they all sold out. They added a fourth screening – it sold out. After the film won, they added a fifth screening and it too sold out. Over the course of a week, some 2000 Israeli Jews saw the film. Not a single person hassled or heckled. Lea got standing ovations at all the screenings she attended and we were told that in the screenings we did not attend, people sat in their seats and clapped throughout the end credits. All this defied our imagination and indicated that people were ready for another narrative.

After four years of the most right-wing and overtly racist government Israel had known to date – a period during which people fell silent at worst and minced their words at best – people were ready to push back and carve out some more political space for themselves. It was as if they had said: “If this is the ‘new normal,’ we’re pushing back.” And who better to trigger that movement than Lea, “the angry optimistic woman,” as she refers to herself in the film.

As I noted earlier, throughout DocAviv, there was no backlash. But soon enough, a small group of bereaved parents were incited by a right-wing vigilante group to protest the award. They took their grievance to the Minister of Culture who then passed the ball to the Arts and Culture Council of the Israel Lottery – the funding body behind the special Oscar-campaign grant (DocAviv is an Oscar-qualifying festival) issued to the winning film in addition to the first prize. Within no time the Lottery caved by rescinding its support for future winning films and putting our grant under legal review.

This prompted another surprise: the entire arts community stood on its hind legs and protested the lottery’s move. Writers, actors, fine artists, theatre folks – there was near wall-to-wall consensus that enough was enough. After people withdrew their candidacies for top literary awards, resigned from selection committees and returned grants unspent, the Israel lottery retracted its revocation and transferred the said funds to DocAviv to the benefit of our film this year, and future films in coming years. 

The official announcement was made the day after the latest round of Israeli elections and one could feel that while the proverbial truck that is Israel is still barreling down a slippery slope into a collision course with history, the people have nevertheless forced it to downshift from turbo into 3rd gear. That is, there are more and more signs that the battle for progressive values has been lost – and yet the war ain’t over yet. Now the same battle is transpiring over the fact that the Israeli Academy of Film and Television has nominated Advocate for an Israeli academy award. Palestinains in the West Bank and Gaza do not enjoy these privileges. Palestinian citizens of Israel probably could, if they really wanted to, but have largely chosen to forfeit the role of “token Arab,” and instead stand in solidarity with their people living under occupation or in forced exile in the diaspora.

Povodom prikazivanja i nagrade na ZagrebDoxu, razgovarali smo s autorima o redateljskim postupcima i odlukama u filmu, poziciji suvremenih autora dokumentarnih filmova, kao i o mogućnostima koje se nude za izraelske, ali i za palestinske redatelje unutar sustava javnog financiranja filmskih projekata u Izraelu.

KP: Odvjetnica je paralelno i film o Izraelskom pravnom sustavu kao i portret odvjetnice Lee Tsemel. Možete li više reći o redateljskim postupcima “balansiranja” između ovakvih vrlo snažnih političkih tema?  

P.B.: Odvjetnica je film čiji je nositelj radnje lik (character driven film) više nego što je politički exposé ili portret. Odvjetnički rad Lee Tsemel tijekom posljednjih pedeset godina ne može biti odvojen od pedesetogodišnje povijesti okupacije. Koliko god je Lea bila prisiljena pristati na rad unutar postojećeg zakonskog okvira (koji je postepeno dobivao svoj oblik tijekom okupacije), njezine pravne borbe unutar i van sudnice utjecale su na sudsku praksu tog zadanog okvira. Pojednostavljeno, iako nije zaustavila okupaciju, otežala je okupatoru njezino provođenje. Kao što je jedan vojni sudac rekao: “Da Lea Tsemel ne postoji, morali bismo ju izmisliti!” Naravno, u procesu stvaranja ovog filma, željeli smo čuti Leu; iako ono u što ona vjeruje u teoriji, a čini u praksi – može biti jednostavno sažeto. Ono što je nama bilo zanimljivije je vidjeti kako ona čini to što čini, odnosno uhvatiti Leu u akciji.

KP: Veći dio radnje, u kojoj pratimo Leu i njezin pravni tim u nizu sudskih procesa i razgovora s osuđenima o budućim koracima njihove obrane, prikazan je vrlo direktno, čak i “klasično dokumentaristički”, u stilu fly-on-the-wall i cinéma vérité. Zanima me zašto ste se odlučili na taj način predstaviti Leu i njezin rad te što mislite kako je on utjecao na doživljaj radnje? 

P.B.: Nije to bio toliko izbor koliko želja. Želja da dokumentiramo, vidimo (i pokažemo) kako Lea i njezini kolege, njezini klijenti, pravni sustav, mediji – funkcioniraju. Izrada scenarija za dokumentarni film je neodvojiva od stvarnosti snimanja. Nakon prvih nekoliko dana, počeli smo razmatrati teme koje bismo željeli pokriti i kako bismo voljeli da film izgleda i rezonira. No nakon prvog dana snimanja počeli smo mijenjati koncept. To ponovno pisanje scenarija je počelo za vrijeme snimanja i nastavilo se tijekom montaže. Zapravo, u ovom filmu snimanje i montaža nisu bili odvojeni procesi: prvo smo snimali pristupom izravnog filma (direct cinéma) – ono što smo mi nazivali real time snimkama – zatim smo ih montirali i tek smo onda dobili građu koja nam je poslužila kao polazište za istraživanje arhivskih materijala i provođenje intervjua o “prošlim slučajevima”.

Tijekom faze snimanja trenutnih događaja, odnosno u stilu izravnog filma, pratili smo pet slučajeva (u filmu vidimo dva, s naznakama trećeg). Nismo mogli znati unaprijed što će nam stvarnost donijeti niti koje će situacije najbolje dočarati realnost onkraj ove realnosti, odnosno širi kontekst okupacije. Izravni film je kao spori obrok: odete na snimanje i uhvatite ono što se događa, čak i ako se čini banalno, a onda s vremenom počinjete trenirati pogled i primjećivati detalje koje ne biste vidjeli da ste došli snimati jedan određeni događaj ili s previše predumišljaja.

U Odvjetnici postupak izravnog filma ima veliki utjecaj na gledatelje. Pomoću njega uspjeli smo pružiti gledatelju dvostruku perspektivu: vidjeti Leu u vanjskom svijetu kao i vidjeti taj svijet po Lei; razotkriti njezin pogled i na neki način time bolje razumjeti njezin osjećaj za pravnu i političku pravdu – ili jednostavnije, njezin osobni otisak u humanističkom djelovanju.

KP: Film nas također povremeno vraća u fragmente Leine prošlosti, što uvelike doprinosi razumijevanju konteksta njezinog djelovanja. Zbog čega ste se odlučili na predstavljanje i njezine obiteljske, odnosno privatne prošlosti? Što mislite da je taj postupak donio filmu?

P.B.: U samom početku mislili smo da ćemo snimati Leu i doma i na poslu, s obitelji i prijateljima, unucima i susjedima… No kada smo počeli snimati, shvatili smo da ju je dovoljno snimati samo na poslu, između uredskog posla i sudnice. Željeli smo portretirati Leu u ulozi odvjetnice, ne kao majku ili ženu. No isto tako znamo da ne postoji izdvojeni individualac – iza profesionalnog života postoji onaj privatni, kao i posljedice koje ostaju zbog bezuvjetne predanosti svojim klijentima i njihovom slučaju. Iskazima njezine djece, koja nisu uvijek imala majku koju su trebali ili željeli, željeli smo dati zaokruženiju sliku Lee, a time i cjelokupnu sliku ljudskog stanja.

KP: Pitanje etičnosti i pravedne reprezentacije filmskih subjekata kanonska je tema u dokumentarnom filmu. U Odvjetnici središnji dio filma čini slučaj trinaestogodišnjeg Ahmada koji je osuđen za sudjelovanje u napadu hladnim oružjem, iako osobno nije izvršio napad. U svrhu zaštite Ahmadovog identiteta koristili ste se vrlo grafičkom i minimalističkom animacijom. Zašto ste se odlučili baš na ovakav način njegove reprezentacije?

P.B.: Izraelski zakon štiti budućnost svakog maloljetnika uključenog u neki sudski proces. Zabranjeno je otkriti njihov identitet: ne smije ih se prepoznati ni sada ni za dvadeset godina. Isto je vrijedilo i za Ahmada. Neke se televizijske reportaže nisu držale propisanog zakona, no većina njih ipak jest tako što su zamrljale ili pikselizirale njegovo lice. Međutim, zbog tih tehnika, osim toga što posjeduju određene konotacije (uglavnom se “zločinac” skriva iza pikseliziranog lica), ne možemo vidjeti ljudsko biće, njegove emocije… U najboljem slučaju, gledamo masku… Zbog toga smo odlučili raditi s animatoricom Tal Kantor kako bi napravili višeslojnu rotoskopsku animaciju baziranu na videosnimci. Tražili smo način kako da zadržimo određene ekspresije lica, da im zadržimo ljudskost a da ne otkrijemo Ahmadov identitet. Pri slaganju određenih slojeva rotoskopske animacije mislili smo iskoristiti pojedine artefakte iz Leine prošlosti. U njezinom uredu smo našli neke stare isječke iz novina i sudske dokumente koje smo iskoristili. Naša ideja je bila podsjetiti sebe i gledatelje na pedesetogodišnju okupaciju. Današnji slučajevi se ne mogu gledati izdvojeno od zadnjih pet desetljeća.

Nismo željeli stvoriti paralelni svijet – svijet animacije u suprotnosti s vanjskim svijetom. Da bude potpuno jasno, odabrali smo razdvojiti sliku: s jedne strane snimka, a s druge višeslojna rotoskopska animacija. Krajnji rezultat je da možemo vidjeti Leu kako prelazi iz jednog dijela slike u drugi, iz čiste slike u animaciju. Nismo o tome mislili unaprijed, no kada smo vidjeli te snimke osjetili smo da je to vrlo dobra metafora onoga što Lea radi, stalno se krećući iz jedne strane realnosti u drugu.

KP: Na općenitijoj razini, kako se u kontekstu suvremenog izraelskog dokumentarnog filma nadaje pitanje reprezentacije palestinske manjine i izraelsko-palestinskih odnosa?

R.L.J.: Izraelski dokumentaristi su uglavnom lijevo orijentirani te su se dotaknuli izraelsko-palestinskog sukoba na mnogo načina. Ovih dana, dobronamjerni no često i patronizirajući (možda čak i kolonizatorski) pojam “davanja glasa” je uvelike zamijenjen s “urbano antropološkom” praksom prepričavanja, pri čemu subjekt objektivizira samog sebe. Drugim riječima, Izraelci počinju dokumentirati okupatora više nego okupirane. Ovaj žanr uključuje i moćne filmske eseje, kao i beskompromisne ispovjedne filmove. Opasnost ovakvog filma je narcističko zastiranje Palestinaca, a to je nešto što se nadamo da politika reprezentacije u Odvjetnici uspješno zaobilazi.

KP: Možemo li govoriti o ovom filmu kao i o “filmu otpora” i na koji način tumačite njegovo sudjelovanje u vlastitom kontekstu?

R.L.J.: Naša bliska prijateljica, jedna afroamerička pravobraniteljica za ljudska prava u SAD-u, nedavno je ponudila jedno oštroumno zapažanje: “Mi” – pritom se referirajući na Black Lives Matter i ostale progresivne pokrete za pravdu i jednakost – “ne pružamo otpor. Mi smo oni kojima se pruža otpor! Također, mi se ne opiremo; to ima više veze s pukim preživljavanjem nego s životom. Ono što mi radimo je da ustrajemo.” Ova ideja bi se lako mogla primijeniti na životnu praksu Lee Tsemel, a nadamo se da smo napravili i takav film.

KP: Kako tumačite ulogu suvremene “dokumentaristice” u trenutnim svjetskim previranjima te kako biste pozicionirali sebe i svoj rad u spomenutom kontekstu?

R.L.J.: Jean-Luc Godard je jednom rekao: “Što je film? Ništa. Što film želi? Sve. Što film može postići? Nešto.” Mi smo tu zbog tog nečeg.

KP: Možete li nam više reći o procesu distribucije ovakvih snažnih političkih filmskih naslova u Izraelu? Koliko je festivalski sustav otvoren za njih?

R.L.J.: Izrael je demokracija za privilegirane, a mi se brojimo kao oni povlašteni. Iako je agresivan i represivan prema Palestincima, Izrael nije autoritarno društvo. Za ljude poput nas, koji iskazuju kritičke, pa čak i disidentske stavove, ono je još uvijek pluralističko. Taj pluralizam je doživio pad u zadnjih nekoliko godina, ali nije nestao. Filmski festivali, fondovi i privatne televizijske kuće još uvijek su među najotvorenijim kulturnim institucijama za ljude poput nas. Pitanje je što taj pluralizam znači bez distribucijske pravde, bez jednakosti za sve.

KP: Kakva je kulturna politika u Izraelu kada je riječ o javnoj potpori filmovima ovakvih tema? Koja je pozicija palestinskih redatelja u sustavu javnih financiranja filmskih projekata?

R.L.J.: Recepcija filma na DocAvivu – mjestu naše izraelske premijere – bila je van svih naših očekivanja. Na početku su filmu zakazane tri projekcije. Sve su bile rasprodane prije početka festivala. Dodana je i četvrta projekcija koja se isto rasprodala. Nakon što je film osvojio glavnu nagradu, dodana je i peta projekcija koja se također rasprodala. U tjedan dana, oko 2000 izraelskih Židova je vidjelo film. Niti na jednoj projekciji nije bilo negodovanja.

Lea je dobila ovacije na svim projekcijama na kojima je bila, a nama je rečeno da su ljudi na projekcijama na kojima nismo bili pljeskali skroz do kraja zahvala. Sve ovo se kosilo s onim što smo zamišljali i pokazalo nam je da su ljudi itekako spremni za drugačije narative.

Nakon četiri godine krajnje desnog režima i otvoreno rasističke vlade – perioda tijekom kojeg su neki u najgorem slučaju zašutjeli, a u najboljem birali riječi – ljudi su postali spremni pružiti otpor i stvoriti za sebe novi politički prostor. Kao da su rekli: “Ako je ovo ‘novo normalno’, pružit ćemo otpor!”. A tko je bolji pokretač takvih pokreta od Lee, “ljute optimistične žene”, kao što ona na sebe referira u filmu.

Kao što sam rekla ranije, tijekom DocAviva nije bilo negativnih reakcija na film. No nedugo potom je jedna desničarska organizacija potaknula malu grupu ožalošćenih roditelja da protestiraju protiv nagrade koja nam je dodijeljena. Svoj protest uputili su ministru kulture koji je zatim lopticu prebacio na Vijeće za umjetnost i kulturu pod Izraelskom lutrijom – tijelo nadležno za posebnu financijsku potporu prvonagrađenim filmova na festivalu DocAviv, namijenjenu kampanji za nagradu Oscar (DocAviv je festival čiji se pobjednici kvalificiraju za nominaciju). Lutrija je ubrzo popustila pritiscima te je ukinula potporu budućim nagrađenim filmovima i podvrgnula našu potporu pravnoj reviziji.

To je rezultiralo i drugim iznenađenjem: cijela umjetnička zajednica je ustala na noge i prosvjedovala protiv odluke Lutrije. Pisci, glumci, likovni umjetnici i kazalištarci – formirao se gotovo opći konsenzus da je to kap koja je prelila čašu. Nakon što su ljudi počeli povlačiti svoje kandidature za prestižne književne nagrade, davati ostavke na mjesta u selekcijskim odborima i vraćati potpore, Lutrija je povukla svoju odluku i isplatila DocAvivu sredstva namijenjena našem filmu i budućim festivalskim pobjednicima.

Službena vijest je objavljena dan nakon posljednjeg kruga izraelskih izbora i moglo se osjetiti da su ljudi uspjeli bar malo ublažiti sudaranje Izraela s poviješću. Odnosno, sve je više i više znakova da je bitka za progresivne vrijednosti izgubljena – ali rat još nije gotov. Trenutno se ista bitka vodi oko činjenice da je Odvjetnica nominirana za nagradu izraelske Filmske akademije.

Palestinci na Zapadnoj obali i pojasu Gaze ne uživaju privilegije kao i mi. Palestinski građani Izraela bi vjerojatno mogli kada bi željeli, no uglavnom su odbili igrati ulogu “ukrasnog Arapina”, odlučivši se solidarizirati s ljudima koji žive pod okupacijom ili u prisilnom egzilu.