In “Kissufim,” the first feature-length movie from Israeli director Keren Nechmad, actress Swell Ariel Or plays a character that has some similarities to her iconic “The Beauty Queen of Jerusalem” protagonist, Luna. Like “Beauty Queen of Jerusalem,” which takes place between the 1910s and 1940s, “Kissufim” is a period piece, taking place in 1977 in Kibbutz Kissufim, which nears the Gaza border. Or plays a young independent woman with dreams and aspirations of self-fulfillment, but unlike Luna, Eli doesn’t get to see any of those dreams come true.
Or’s character Eli is based on Elian Gazit, who was killed by a grenade on a visit to Gaza’s market in 1980. In the movie, now streaming on Netflix, Nechmad plays with the timeline and details, rooting it in 1977 and Anwar Sadat’s visit to Israel, which led to the Israeli-Egyptian peace treaty. She creates a story about a complex group of young people: Yoav, a dreamer, and Ron, a pragmatist, who both have a crush on Eli; young free-loving women like Michaela (Mili Eshet, “The Tattooist of Auschwitz”); and German volunteers at the kibbutz trying to live their lives in the aftermath of a terrible war, who work hard and try to find some solace in Gaza’s beaches and markets, then open for all to visit.
Though set decades ago, and filmed long before October 7, so many of the themes of the show feel ever prescient today.
Just a couple of days before I talk to Or and Nechmad about the film, Israel is torn with grief over six hostages murdered in captivity. One of them, Eden Yerushalmi, was a known fan of “Beauty Queen.” She and four of the other hostages recovered were abducted at the Nova party where, like Eli, they were trying to find joy amid the crazy political reality in Israel. Out there in Gaza, we pray still alive, is Shlomo Mansour, the oldest hostage, the longtime carpenter of Kissufim, a survivor of the Farhoud, a grandfather with a sweet smile.
And Kissufim itself, the kibbutz where Nechmad’s father spent years, is a bombed-out shell of itself, unsafe to return to. For half a century it stood, a beautiful time capsule of collaborative dreams, until that fateful day last October, when eight of its members and six foreign workers were killed and many more injured. In early screenings of the movie, money was raised for the rebuilding of the kibbutz, and the film is dedicated to its victims.
In the movie, though, Kissufim is beautifully immortalized. You can almost smell the pool from the screen, feel the splash of those old sprinklers in the verdant fields in the desert, immerse yourself in the hustle and bustle of the communal dining room, the center of the kibbutz universe. You can taste the dreams of youth in the shadows of heartbreak, of PTSD lingering in the shadow of the Yom Kippur War, impossibly painful and fresh in this group of young people. “Kissufim” is about the truth of being Israeli: Heartbreak and tragedy meet you everywhere.
When I talk to Nechmad and Or, still feeling raw and heartbroken over the latest news, we talk about how the movie’s meaning has changed so much since it was filmed.
This interview had been edited and condensed for clarity.
What were you hoping people would take from this movie when it was first filmed, before October 7?
Nechmad: [I just wanted] to show a coming-of-age story of a group of Israelis, showing the reality of what it is to live in Israel in any stage. They were just studying or living their lives and then the Israeli reality always collides with our lives, even before October 7. So just to show the loop that you live in here, in any generation. And then it hit really close to home and really close to what’s happening now.
I’ve been writing about the six murdered hostages all weekend, and I was thinking about Eden Yerushalmi, who I know was a really big fan of “Beauty Queen” and was only a few years older than Eli in the film.
Or: There is a lot of similarity between the stories, you’re right. It’s a sad mirror, a lot of stories: the story of Elian, the story of Eli in the film, it’s a mirror to a lot of sad stories before and after October 7.
The stories of people who are just living their lives and in one moment, they collide in this terrible way with the reality of where they are.
Nechmad: It’s been a very hard year and a very hard weekend, for sure. People are very sad here and feel very connected to people who survived 11 months in this hell.
Keren, I know your father was in the Nahal, a program that combines military service with social and educational projects. Was he in the same group as Elian? Did you grow up with her story?
Nechmad: Definitely! I grew up on her story and his stories in the Nahal, and in the whole group that he volunteered with, they are all very close till today. Growing up listening to these stories, when I served in the army, I saw how similar his stories are to my stories, and [stories] in any generation. So for me, it was just a way to honor her and a way to honor the group, in a way — to showcase their time on the kibbutz and Kissufim.
Swell, how did you connect to Eli/Elian’s story?
Or: In a weird way, when I read the script, I felt like I heard this story, because I heard similar stories in my life. What Keren did with the script is trying to capture a very specific and important moment of time, both in Israel’s history and in this group’s journey to become adults. Her story is so simple to understand when you’re an Israeli, and you’re a woman in your 20s, and you grew up with the complexity of war and PTSD and at the same time, hormones and love and excitement about being young and free. It’s like the peace agreement. It’s like a [fragment] of hope, in a contrast, to her death: That’s the essence of what it’s like to live in Israel.
I felt like I have an opportunity to tell the story of someone real, someone that lived, and that we have an opportunity to capture the moment before she died, and it was really important for me to be very loyal to everything that I heard from Keren, and to be very open: to not bring my own interpretations in terms of politics; to just really dive into the story of that girl. Hopefully a lot of other people will see the film and will think of their own personal story that they heard or that they experienced.
This movie is set 1977 when so many things around gender were so different than they are now; so many of the movies then were so sexist and objectifying to women. I love how you worked around that and made these characters very strong, independent women who make choices for themselves. I also really like the way you showed the vulnerability of the men — with Ron’s character, it’s not a very Israeli thing for a man to say “I fucked up” or “I did something wrong” in the ways that he does in this film. What was it like to bring a 2020s gender sensibility to that time?
Nechmad: We live in a world where there’s a lot of pressure for certain roles. I really wanted to see a strong female character, women who make choices for themselves, not because of what men tell them to do or what they want, and then show a very gentle side to men that is also not being seen, especially during those times, and especially as a soldier, as someone who needs to protect. I wanted to bridge the gap in the whole film, both in who the characters are and the way the film looks and sounds and feels, because I wanted everybody to relate to it. So yes, it is [set in] 1977, but the film can be at any time, at any place.
What was it like to shoot on location in Kissufim? As someone who grew up in Israel, I think of these kibbutzim as a time capsule, one that was destroyed on October 7 in this case. What was the experience shooting there? And then what is the experience seeing what has happened since you shot there?
Nechmad: Being there was amazing. We really became a part of the kibbutz. They were so welcoming, and it really did feel like a time capsule.
Or: In the scene when you see them eating breakfast together, and the scene that the volunteers are coming from Germany, [were shot in] a shared space for the entire kibbutz members to eat together and socialize and not be on their phones or in front of their TV, which is a thing that we should definitely bring back.
Nechmad: Shooting there was so special, and it was so quiet and calm and so much fun. The place is just amazing.
Or: People from the kibbutz were extras in the film. Like all the little kids and parents — we needed extras, and they were there. And they helped us with the production, with small stuff. They were very much involved.
Nechmad: And now it’s just sad. I went back after October 7, and it’s empty and abandoned and just sad, devastating.
Or: No one’s there, just a group of soldiers from the army slowly starting to clean boots, or, like, [tending to] the fields. Just to make sure that it’s not going to die too. It’s basically like 20 people, volunteers and army people, who live there now.
What were some scenes that were the most challenging, or the most powerful, for you to do?
Nechmad: I think the most powerful one we did was the one where Eli dances in the minefield [and blows up a mine], and the whole sequence after. We really wanted to showcase the range of emotions, from the most happy to the most devastating. I think it was the most challenging, but the most incredible in the sense of what Swell and I could do together.
Or: The dialogue after with the German volunteer trying to [comfort her]… It’s funny how it relates to today, because Israelis are very strong people, but a lot of the power that we’re getting is from the outside, because we’ve been through a lot lately, and sometimes it helps that someone from outside just gives you strength or hope. After she almost blew herself up in the minefield, the German volunteer is like, “Yes, I know it’s scary, but I’m thinking of living here. Don’t forget that this is an amazing place with all the…”
Nechmad: Complexities.
Are there any scenes that you watch now and think, “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe how prescient it is after October 7?”
Nechmad: The whole movie. The whole movie, I’m just shocked by how close it hit home, some of the sentences, the dancing. In the beginning, when Udi is talking about the animal they’re chasing, and he’s like, “You go into the tunnel, you don’t come out.”
I know, when I watched it, I was like, wait, did I hear that right?
Or: For me, one of the scenes is the ride to Gaza. Because it captures a moment that is happiness before a disaster, the freedom before something terrible is about to happen. In the film, they’re just going to the beach and to eat falafel, and they run away from their problems. But in reality, because of the age range and because of my personal connection, I’m thinking about the Nova tribe. I think that the whole film really resonates with them. Like, if it was in 2024, Eli and Ron are probably going to go to rave parties, they’re going to be part of that group. So I feel like [the scene of] driving to Gaza is like all the young adults who drove to the party to just leave their problems and their lives for a second and go somewhere else, to just do whatever, and boom.
Can you talk a little bit about your personal connection to Nova?
Or: Yes, I know five people who were murdered there. Most of them were with me in high school, and we weren’t best friends in the last couple of years, but in high school, they were a big part of the colors who painted that period of time. They were the sexy, cool seniors, and we were two years younger than them, and we adored them, and every interaction we had with them, it was like [wow]. I’m gonna carry their memory with me everywhere, and hopefully I’ll be able to create more projects that will touch something that reminds me or the world of them. “Kissufim” is one of them.
That energy of youth and dreams…
Or: Youth, dreams, community, freedom. The energy is very vivid. They were so full of life. Eli’s like that too. It’s something that’s important for me to carry on, to show that it’s not their fault. It’s not Eli’s fault that she was murdered. It’s not my friends from high school’s fault. They didn’t do anything.
They were born in this place just like anyone else is born anywhere. What does it feel like to have this project on Netflix now worldwide, on such a huge platform?
Or: I really hope that a lot of people are going to watch it. Jews, of course, Israelis, of course, but also people who are not us, people who are non-Jewish, people who stand in a different place in the political spectrum. I believe in the power of stories. I think it’s the most powerful thing, and it’s the most ancient power in the world, to be able to connect and to transfer knowledge to the next generations or to places who are all over the world. So I really hope that as many people as possible will watch this film.
Nechmad: It’s amazing to have the film in such a big platform for everybody to watch. I hope it reaches people’s hearts as well as their eyes, you know, in the way of understanding what Israel is, and understanding who lives here and what we’re going through, and understanding it’s been going on for many, many, many years.
You have this scene about peace, with the Israeli-Egyptian peace accord being signed. What do you think about the potential of peace today? It was a very different time, but some of the dialogue around peace still felt very familiar to me, with characters speaking about how impossible it feels, just like people do today.
Nechmad: I don’t know. I don’t know. To be honest, I want to say I’m still hopeful, but there’s a lot [that needs to be resolved]. We’re still at war. The war needs to be over. The hostages needs to come home, and people need to heal. I think a lot of people need to heal. I really do hope there is light at the end of the tunnel [of] actually living here in peace, but I don’t know. I think we’re still too in it to know.
Anything else you’d like people to know about these characters?
Nechmad: There is a spectrum of what an Israeli is and these characters represent different people in our society. In the army, you’re a bunch of people coming from different backgrounds, meeting together and doing something together, and I really think it is just a representation of who we are.
Or: I want people to know that those characters are the essence of the Israeli spectrum. Like they’re so different from one another. And if you have the ability to understand each and every one of them, and you can see the fucked up things in every character… Every one of them is super annoying but super understandable at the same time. And that’s the most important message: like, yes, there’s a lot of place for criticism. No one’s perfect. But can you understand when you see?
I was laughing when you said they are annoying because I was thinking, like, what if they had TikToks?
Or: Oh, no no no.
Nechmad: Thank God they’re not Gen Z-ers!
Swell, I know a lot of our audience are big “Beauty Queen of Jerusalem” fans. Is there anything you can tell us about a new season?
I really hope that very soon I’ll be able to say something.
