The Lemon Tree (Movie Review)

The Lemon Tree depicts the core conflict that daily confronts the Israeli people: How much human suffering must be incurred in order to ensure reasonable security? Israeli director and co-screen writer Eran Riklis's newest film opens with the Israeli Defense Minister moving into a new house right next to the Green Line dividing Israel from the West Bank. The Secret Service forces him to cut down the lemon grove of his widowed Palestinian neighbor, for his family’s safety and "because a terrorist might cross into Israel through the grove." The protagonist, 45-year old Salma, played by Hiam Abbas, has grown up with the lemon grove that her father planted 50 years earlier. Besides remittances from her son in the US, it is her only source of income. When it is decided that it must be destroyed, Salma, “the Palestinian Erin Brockovich” as Riklis dubs her, fights it all the way to the Israeli Supreme Court.

Before last night's screening at the Jewish Community Center on the Upper West Side, Riklis claimed that he wanted to depict the lives of real people, that he wanted to get past politics, that showing the reality is the best hope for the future. He hopes that the film would hit viewers at an emotional level. This reality made it unpalatable for many Israelis, though it received accolades at film festivals throughout Europe.

It is surprising to see an Israeli director, with funds from the Israeli Ministry of Culture, make a movie that brings to light such an appalling feature of Israeli state policy. With the construction of the Security Wall between the West Bank and Israel, more stories of uprooted olive trees have come to light. It's not a new policy of the Israeli state. In the movie itself, we hear that "1,000 (have to confirm this number) trees have been cut down in the last three months." But ultimately, no one but an Israeli could have made this movie. By reinforcing the same stereotypes and scripts about Palestinians, and vindicating Israel's policy, the film ultimately props up an Israeli agenda, and like most of the media, makes a just and peaceful solution to the Arab-Israeli conflict even more untenable.

The central tension of the movie is played out in the relationship between the two female neighbors. Throughout the movie, they look at each other silently through the recently-constructed wire fence. They have chances to speak to each other, but it only happens once. Surrounded by the media and her husband, Mira, the wife of the Israeli Defense Minister, apologizes for stealing some lemons when the caterer for her house-warming party forgot to bring some. Later in the movie, Mira climbs the fence to visit Salma in her house, defying the security guards.

Mira is complicated. Though the viewer anticipates her being drawn to the side of her neighbor, she initially supports her husband's decision. Later, at her party, she is the one who hears the terrorists in the grove, before the first grenade is thrown. As an audience member, you see her dilemma, which is the dilemma of all Israelis. She emotionally connects with her fellow lonely female neighbor, but at the same time she is concerned for her own safety.

Mira is the one who tries to make contact with her neighbor--by being the only one who speaks and by climbing over the fence. In every interaction, Salma remains absolutely silent. The puppy-dog, victimized, almost blank look on her face didn't change throughout the film. It reminded me of Frodo in Lord of the Rings. I kept wondering, how long must we, the audience, be subjected to that pitiful gaze? And the one time a private, personal connection could have been made, Mira (having climbed the fence) sees Salma through the kitchen window, heaped over the counter, weeping. Salma is an object of pity.

In the Q & A period, I questioned Riklis about this depiction of the protagonist. Before the screening, he said he enjoyed working with Hiam Abbass so much in The Syrian Bride (2004) that he wanted to create a new script where she could be the showcase star. And she was in all the trailers and reviews. And yet, he smothers her. She is the stereotypical Arab woman, who for the most part is silent (until her big, moving speech in the courtroom at the end of the movie.) Her disempowered condition is seen in her inability to communicate with or understand basic things that happen around her, since she doesn't speak Hebrew. She must rely on the men to translate for her. (Abbas in The Syrian Bride is a fully bilingual person in her bicultural environment.) Like any Arab woman, she shows her affection and love by making food and cleaning.

She’s also a little strange. She wakes in her bed in the middle of the night, hearing the sounds of the fruit dropping when the grove has not been tended. (It hasn't been tended because the Secret Service enclosed it with a fence and forbade her to go inside. She still sneaks in, though.) She's so ingrained in her traditions, in her poverty, in her land, and she's so lonely that she feels that she should be part of the wolves’ clan that she hears at night coming from the ravine below.

I can identify with Mira. She has to deal with conflicting loyalties. She makes unexpected decisions. She shows courage by attempting to reach out to her neighbor.

But I can't identify with Salma.

The biggest emotional punch for me in the movie, however, was the scene where Salma started throwing lemons at the wire fence. It was the same scene I've seen my whole life—Palestinians throwing rocks against tanks. She’s the crazy, irrational, violent, stubborn Palestinian fighting for her survival against a juggernaut with absolutely no realistic expectation of changing anything. Her fighting in the Israeli judicial system is the same example, though non-violent. Is she an Erin Brockovich? or an irrational, stubborn victim, continuing to fight when all the odds are stacked against her? Her Palestinian lawyer also fits the stereotype--exploiting this case and the surrounding media coverage to land a job with the Palestinian National Authority. Because according to the stereotype, Palestinians don’t try to really help each other, they, instead, use each other for personal advantage.

Other members of the audience seemed to think that the budding romantic relationship between Salma and her young lawyer showed her chutzpah, as well. I strongly resist the tired plotline of a woman oppressed by her traditional society finding her liberation in a sexually illicit affair. Thankfully, Riklis spares us from that.

The director seemed genuinely surprised, and slightly offended, by my comment that I felt that Hiam Abbas's character was static and stereotyped. "How else could I have depicted her?"

That question, for me, sealed the deal. . . This is what it comes down to—

In his eyes, a Palestinian woman really isn't a person. How can she make her own decisions? How can she do something that would surprise an audience member? How can she have internal conflicts with uncertain resolutions?

"You don't know what it's like; that is their society. Those women can't make decisions. They are subjugated by their men. This movie shows her as a hero. How likely would a Palestinian woman stand up for herself?” Riklis said to me.

He believes that Palestinian women cannot stand up for themselves, that they have no voice. It’s the same oft-repeated line of reasoning: that instead of taking responsibility for the effects of their policies, Israelis blame the victims. This line of reasoning follows to a certain conclusion; it goes like this: It is the Palestinian men who keep their women down. It is the Palestinian Muslim terrorist extremists who keep the Palestinians subjugated by fear. These pathetic creatures can't take care of themselves, because their leaders take advantage of them. Therefore democracy doesn't work for them. Therefore we are justified in occupying them.

Presenting Palestinians as objects of pity, as irrational, non-civilized people allows the powers that be to maintain their position. As long as Israelis truly believe that they are better than the Palestinians, they will never leave them to rule themselves--and truly be a democracy, the “only democracy in the Middle East” as they like to call themselves. It is their white man's burden.

I wondered at the beginning of the movie, if it would end with the emotional wallop of bulldozers destroying the lemon grove. Nope. The Israelis being the ultimate just civilization come up with a well-considered nuanced solution that balances all the considerations. The fact that a low-status Palestinian woman even gets her day in court is a testamest to the progressive Israeli society.

But even though the Israelis come off as being ultimately reasonable and clever, the whole premise is fundamentally flawed. There is a legal precedent about "moving to the nuisance." Basically, the Israeli Defense Minister decided to move into a house next to a lemon grove. It was his choice; he didn't have to live there. This isn't a case of eminent domain. So it is unjust to touch her lemon trees, considering he decided to move next to a "security risk."

When I asked the director, "What were the Palestinian critiques of the movie?" he replied, "I don't really look at people's opinions to see if they're Palestinian, or European, or Israeli. It's a human film."

He didn't answer the question. He either didn't know, or just didn't want to say. I think he just didn't know. He did acknowledge at the beginning that it was not favorably received in Israel. Apparently he didn't seek out the opinions of Palestinians. Perhaps because the co-writer of the script is Palestinian, the main actress is Palestinian, and he likes to think of himself as a progressive person who doesn't really harbor any discrimination and racism. Who doesn't like to think of himself as free of discrimination and racism?

The color-blind stance, however, is a position of power. Only the powered majority can use it, such as white people in the US and Israelis in Palestine. Rilkis didn't intend to make a racist (ethnicist?), ultimately destructive movie. He really thought he was doing good. But by presenting and reinforcing the same stereotypes of the Other, the powerful maintain their power. It is what it is—a movie directed by an Israeli, funded by the Israeli government. It ultimately serves the purposes of the Israeli State by vindicating and justifying what critics would claim to be heartless, unjust policies.