The Speed of the Distance Between Us | JFI Online Short: October 2024
This month’s online short, The Speed of the Distance Between Us, is a poignant look at the grief and bereavement of Israeli families who have lost loved ones during army service.
Yuval Shapira, Israel, United States, 19 minutes, Hebrew, English
About the Film: Eight parents who lost their children during their army service invite us into their homes for a conversation about that which cannot be explained. In Israel — as a result of mandatory army service and unending conflict bereavement does not discriminate: the parents in the film are Druze, new immigrants, kibbutzniks, settlers, residents of the periphery, and Tel Avivians; parents whose sons and daughters were killed in a suicide bomb attack, who committed suicide, who fell in action, or in a car accident. While sharing common, horrific circumstances, the difference between the parents and their coping methods emerges. “The Speed of the Distance Between Us” is a holistic collage of parenthood and Israeliness, touching on fears that are local, as much as they are universal and contemporary. An intimate look at their lives reveals that every Israeli is potentially a bereaved parent, and every bereaved parent expresses with horrifying intensity the existential anxieties we all face: loss of meaning, a present denied of a future.
Read an exclusive interview with director Yuval Shapira below.
Jewish Film Institute: What was the genesis of this film?
Yuval Shapira: I grew up with a father who is a clinical psychologist who specializes in treating the most challenging cases: parents who lost their children while serving in the army, terminally ill patients and their families, and parents of children hospitalized in the rehabilitation department. When I turned 18, I experienced an extremely unbearable pain — my girlfriend, since the age of 14, was killed. My grief was crippling, and my time with her parents was like an unclimbable mountain of grief.
“I saw these close-up shots as well as us spending time in their homes, a form of remedy — a way to draw closer to these bereaved parents, to truly see them, and to honor them with our presence.”
The relationship with her parents became the most significant connection in my life, even though it was primarily full of silence — I couldn’t find the words to talk to them. I turned to my father for advice, and he answered with stories. After years of making fiction films that challenged the popular perception of parenting, I returned to the point where my engagement with complex forms of parenting began: the desire to talk and truly listen to bereaved parents.
JFI: How did you meet these parents featured in the film, and how did you form a relationship with them?
YS: I met the parents featured in the film through extensive research using the “Yizkor” (remembrance) website which catalogs each and every soldier who died during their army service. I systematically went through the names of fallen soldiers from 2000 onwards, learning their diverse stories, and compiling a list of all of their parents. I then searched for interviews, TV appearances, or lectures given by these parents about their loss. My intention was to approach only those who had previously chosen to share their stories publicly, to avoid causing additional pain to those who preferred privacy. It was important for me that they’ll be the ones inviting me into their lives.
I spent most of my time filming in the parents’ homes. Often, these houses were eerily empty, serving as a stark visual metaphor for the loss of meaning and the damage to the family unit that bereavement brings. At other times, I captured the bereaved parents within these same rooms. The presence of the parents is lightly staged, expressing that there is nothing natural about bereavement and loss. This choice expresses the bereaved parents’ struggle with the nihilistic transformation their home undergoes: from a nurturing family place to a monument of loss.
Alongside wide shots of the houses, I included intimate close-ups of the parents, along with pictures and personal belongings of their deceased children. The parents often spoke about how their grief made it difficult to connect with people around them, even those who were close before their child’s death. One parent told me, “People treat my son’s death as a contagious disease.”
I saw these close-up shots as well as us spending time in their homes, a form of remedy — a way to draw closer to these bereaved parents, to truly see them, and to honor them with our presence. Through my lens, I tried to illustrate the healing power of human connection.
JFI: Why did you choose to shoot the film on 16mm?
YS: This is a movie about memory, the struggle to keep it alive, and the tangibility of absence. These are expressed in the tangibility of film: a medium that highlights the presence of images in the tangible world. Also, the homes of the bereaved parents are full of framed photos and photo albums — most of them were shot on film, and others were printed on photo paper. The physical copies of photographs have become the way parents commemorate the loss: the memories of their children remain tangible, and the eyes of their dead children continue to look back at them from every corner of the house. The film aims to communicate the parents’ experience in their own language, which is the language of film.
JFI: In many ways, this film is specific to Israeli culture but resonates beyond. Can you speak to achieving a universality in your film?
YS: I started working on this film as my partner and I planned on bringing a child into the world. For me, this film is, first and foremost, about parenthood. Israel is the specific cultural context from which I started; it’s my inception point.
Israel presents a unique paradox: it boasts the highest birth rate in the OECD, coupled with substantial public funding for IVF and childbirth-related incentives. Yet, it’s also one of only two countries (together with North Korea) with mandatory military service for women. This creates a complex cultural DNA, defined by an entangled triangle of parenthood, childhood, and military service — simultaneously nurturing children and proudly steering them toward danger.
I believe that Israel, and the bereaved parents in my film, mirror extreme versions of global societal issues: our obsession with material objects as bearers of meaning, the struggle to process trauma, the search for purpose, and the complex anxieties surrounding parenthood and the future.
About the Filmmaker: Yuval Shapira is aBrooklyn — Tel-Aviv-based filmmaker trained as a visual anthropologist. Shapira is an alumnus of Berlinale’s Talents Sarajevo, Zurich Film Festival Academy, a Reykjavik Film Festival’s Director Fellow, and European Short Pitch. He holds graduate degrees from Emerson College and The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and is a member of Brooklyn Filmmakers Collective.
About JFI Online Shorts: JFI Online Shorts features one new short film each month from emerging and established filmmakers. Since 2009, JFI has showcased over 100 online shorts and garnered worldwide views over 2 million on the JFI Youtube channel. Learn more at www.jfi.org.
