A few days ago, some good friends invited us to go to the movies with them. I watched the trailer. After less than a minute, I asked Aviel to turn it off. I simply couldn’t watch any longer. In that moment, I realized how much I’ve changed. Since October 7th, and since war became an inseparable part of our lives, something inside me has broken. Violence is no longer just a scene in a movie. It has been given faces, names, families, and funerals. It’s no longer a story; it’s reality.
There are things that make life seem less like mere entertainment. Then something dawned on me that I’d never considered before. Almost all the films these friends had recommended over the years were particularly intense: Korean cinema, Japanese cinema, Kubrick—works considered pinnacles of cinematic art, award-winning and critically acclaimed, yet characterized by relentless, often prolonged, and almost unbearable violence. Suddenly, I wondered: Is this just a matter of personal taste in film? Or...
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