Bena

"In Bena, a simple portrait of a father, a son and a stranger reveals fascinating layers of meaning. Amos, a Tel Aviv man, is doing everything he can to keep his schizophrenic teenaged son, Yurik, out of an institution. Amos knows too well the reality of the psychiatric ward – he is an on-call caseworker, dispatched by hospitals to collect patients and drag them into care. When he crosses paths with Bena, a Thai migrant worker, Amos brings her h... more

"In Bena, a simple portrait of a father, a son and a stranger reveals fascinating layers of meaning. Amos, a Tel Aviv man, is doing everything he can to keep his schizophrenic teenaged son, Yurik, out of an institution. Amos knows too well the reality of the psychiatric ward – he is an on-call caseworker, dispatched by hospitals to collect patients and drag them into care. When he crosses paths with Bena, a Thai migrant worker, Amos brings her home out of a mix of kindness and desperation (he needs help with Yurik, badly). But the new arrangement soon disrupts the already uneasy balance in the home. Amos may be falling for Bena, while Yurik is on the brink of a major turn – though for better or worse hangs in the balance. Meanwhile, Bena's fears about her husband, from whom she has been separated in the shadow world of the area's illegal workers, grow increasingly worrisome. Niv Klainer displays real nuance and grace in his feature debut. His camera is so keenly attuned to these three characters that it catches moments that couldn't have been written in the script. And as the film progresses, one finds again that subconscious theme running through so many recent Tel Aviv films – an encounter between “average” Tel Avivians and unruly others who cannot or will not act according to established codes. In this case, the outsiders are a migrant worker and a schizophrenic youth. In every case, there is a Palestinian reality making its absence felt. Like Phobidilia, Bena is not a film that shows off the sights of Tel Aviv; instead, it tells us something important about the city's culture. Although the approach is largely realist, Klainer contrasts that with surrealist scenes of Amos and his patients that underline how possibilities open when sanity slips. And the film's last shot – a brilliant long take that finally gives us glimpses of both Amos's true feelings and the city's famous Bauhaus architecture – is a stunner." Quoting Cameron Bailey on the 2009 TIFF site less