desert of love
by Douglas Messerli
Moshe Rosenthal (screenwriter and director) Our
Way Back / 2018 [26 minutes]
It must be an Israeli thing since it has now
shown up in various ways in three Israeli gay movies I’ve watched. In Guy
Sahaf’s 2015 film צמא (Thirst), before that in Eytan Fox’s 1990
film After, and now in Moshe Rosenthal’s 2018 work Our Way
Back, closeted gay men choose to meet up with their secret lovers in the
most unlikely and forbidding of places, the Negev wilderness or other Israeli
desert locations.
In
Fox’s work it’s just happenstance, as a young man serving his time in the
Israel military discovers his commanding officer is gay. But in Thirst the
gay lover escaping with his closeted friend for a few days of desert camping,
delays their time together by emptying their water bottles and assuring that
they lose their way so that eventually, to save themselves, they must call his
girlfriend or wife to come pick them up and save them.
You
think that Uri (Lior Ashkenazi) and Obed (Shachar Netz), the former a
50-year-old married man with children and the latter his younger lover, might
have caught on to the fact that, despite all the symbolic significance that the
desert has in Hebraic tradition, if one is seeking to have a hidden weekend
with his male lover he might choose a less forbidding landscape. Uri has told
his wife that he is attending a convention in another city.
They encounter a night-time sand storm, Uri’s own physical problems that
any man of 50 might experience after carrying a full-grown man for hours
through the desert, and their own doubts about their love that arise from the
situation.
When Oded first asks if Uri’s cellphone is
working, the latter declares he doesn’t get reception this far away from
civilization; but soon after Oded is able to connect from his phone. It’s
obvious that he feels he would rather not, and his heroics are carried out, in
part, in order to not have to call anybody in for help. What he plans to do
with his hurt lover once they have returned to civilization is never explained,
or even imagined perhaps by the characters. Yet it’s clear from Oded’s reassurances
of how minor the injury actually is that he is trying to convince himself that
he will not need the services of a doctor, or if he does that it will not
involve him.
But as they continue, finding everything more difficult than expected,
it becomes clear and clearer than somehow—if they survive—they will have some
serious explaining to do. Even as they miraculously find themselves just a few
minutes from the car they encounter a patrol force who recognizes Uri’s
automobile and begin calling out to him.
Uri has no choice but to momentarily leave his friend behind and show
himself, reassuring them that he is fine and, hopefully, sending them on their
way again. But Uri is not all right and faints soon after. Unconscious, he
cannot tell them of Oded’s condition or location, as he is rushed back to their
home and into the hospital, where Uri finally comes to.
But as the long trip back to civilization in silence suggests, Oded’s
feelings for his lover and Uri’s own guilt has significantly altered their
relationship. He cannot any longer ignore the fact that Oded will need medical
attention and he will have to explain why he has left the hospital and reveal
to his family reveal why he and Oded were in the desert together.
In short, the deeply secretive world in which they and their love
existed is now a thing of the past. They both must now face up to their lies,
not only to others but to themselves. And surely, given what Uri has chosen
over even the possibility of his friend’s death, will have ramifications for
any continued love Oded will feel for him. Uri may soon be banished to a desert
of love of his own making.
Los Angeles, April 20, 2023
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (April
2023).



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