Perfectly adorable

Memorable, crazy movie

Better Late Then Never

This movie feels like it was made purely to piss off people who want good shows

Wow. Not only is the script a seamless combination of Sayed Kashua's two novels (Second Person Singular and Dancing Arabs), but it's seamless in its own right. Eyad is such a sensitive character, as is Edna; both elicit our sympathy without our pity -- especially when Eyad "goes entrepreneurial" at school, capitalizing on his ability to straddle two worlds.I also liked the acerbic wink at coexistence efforts. Riklis nailed it.Great acting and camera work, excellent subtitling. The use of the word "previous" to illustrate Eyad's grappling with his Arab accent was spot on. I'm also gratified by the English title; "Borrowed Identity" expresses the plot line so much better than does "Dancing Arabs". Regarding the latter, I take issue with other reviewers who read symbolism into the title; in my view, it refers quite literally to Eyad's family dancing on the roof during the Scud attacks, a known occurrence. The fact that he declines to join them says it all.The relationship between Eyad and Yonatan was also done beautifully, showing how when dealing with severe disability, identities like "Jew" and "Arab" are dwarfed by more immediate, human concerns. The film did an excellent job of showing this. Highly recommended.

Not the best way to tackle a topic about identity. The first act of the movie differs in huge ways from the last and despite a light touch of wry humour applied to the scenes between both, you cannot help but wonder how the one (d)evolved into the other so distinctly. Opening on a comedic tone bordering on the absurd, at the end of the film you're watching a heavy emotional drama about a young man's life altered forever. Of course people change over the years, especially under the less than perfect conditions the protagonist lives through, but the viewer has a hard time accepting the unfolding of events in the way told here, and ultimately feels like he/she is watching two separate movies slapped together. It's not wrong to apply some humour to a topic otherwise devoid of that sense, especially if it helps to underscore both parties have more in common than apart. But it must feel like a coherent whole to make it work for audiences. In some ways, the writer says that any sense of optimism Israeli Arab youths harbour in their country will only be squashed by the rampant discrimination they undergo in their formative years, and thus they will inevitably end up as unhappy, pessimist young adults. Maybe that is exactly what the screenwriter wants us to think, considering it's the conclusion he himself drew eventually, which made him move to the USA for good. At the same time however, the plot tells us there is plenty of positive things that could have avoided the bleak outcome presented here. It's not like the protagonist didn't have any friends or couldn't find love. Eventually, it was his own choices that hindered his career as much, if not more so, as the social exclusion on which the film closes.It's not the Arabs that are dancing in this film, it's the writing that makes the plot dance around various possible outcomes and makes it pick the bleakest where it need not have, and considering the tone of the opening, should not have. Case in point: the life of the writer himself, who did very well in his career despite very similar conditions. And it's the audience that suffers most, by being offered a rather unsettling and unsatisfying close.

According to a 2013 census, 20.7% of Israel's population are Israeli Arabs, citizens of Israel who consider themselves Palestinian by nationality. The problems that arise from these conflicting allegiances are dramatized in Avram Riklis'("Zaytoun") film Dancing Arabs, a title that denotes those who have to straddle two cultures and "dance at two weddings." Based on the semi-autobiographical novel by Sayed Kashua (who also wrote the script), Dancing Arabs, known also as "A Borrowed Identity," was the opening film of the Jerusalem Film Festival in July 2014 and was scheduled to be released immediately, but was held back until now because of the war in Gaza.The film, however, is not designed to stir up ethnic animosity but is rather a heartfelt coming-of-age story that transcends cultural barriers. Set in Tira, a predominantly Arab city in the Southern Triangle near the West Bank, the film begins in the 1980s. Eyad (Razi Gabareen), a brilliant young boy is praised by his father Salah (Ali Suliman, "Flying Home") who recognizes his potential to achieve more than he did in his life. Salah himself attended university in Jerusalem but, after serving jail time because of political activity supporting the Arab cause, now works as a fruit picker. When the class is asked in school what their fathers do for a living, Eyad says repeatedly that his father is a terrorist and refuses to change his mind even when he is hit repeatedly on the hands by the teacher, demanding he say that he is a fruit picker. When Eyad (now played by Tawfeek Barhom, "Farewell Bagdhad") is of age he is sent to a Jerusalem boarding school where his experience of trying to fit in becomes the centerpiece of the film. As the only Arab among Jews, he is an outsider who must learn to speak a new language, study a curriculum weighted against the Arab point of view, and put up with teasing by bullies. His difficulty with language is suggested by a scene in which Eyad pronounces the name of a rock band "Deeb Burble," because, unlike in Hebrew, there's no "p" in Arabic. As time passes, things begin to improve. One of the best scenes in the film is Eyad's eloquence in a literature class, angrily pointing out Israeli literature's inherent bias toward Arab characters, a courageous statement that even wins the plaudits of some Jewish classmates. Further, when an attractive, free-spirited classmate, Naomi (Daniel Kitsis, "S#x Acts"), takes an interest in him, they begin a relationship that grows deeper in spite of its being frowned on by society and both sets of parents.As part of Eyad's community service requirement, he works with Yonatan (Michael Moshonov, "Policeman") a wheel-chair bound victim of Muscular Dystrophy who loves alternative rock and has a wicked sense of humor. Yonatan's mother Edna (Yael Abecassis, "That Lovely Girl") welcomes Eyad into her home not only for her Yonatan's benefit but because she genuinely likes him. Yonatan can relate to Eyad's feeling of being separate and apart from others, though the reason is very different. "Sometimes I forget you're an Arab," Yonatan says. "Me too," replies Eyad. "Don't worry," his friend responds. "Someone will always remind you." Dancing Arabs is not a political film and the Arab-Israeli conflict remains marginal, only occasionally referred to when Eyad's family, mother (Laetitia Eido, "Article 23") and grandmother's (Marlene Bajali, "The Syrian Bride") instinctively pull for Saddam Hussein in the 1991 Gulf War until they realize what he is up against. The film is basically about good people trying to make the most of a bad situation and the fact that they are so alienated from each other because of cultural and ethnic differences is a sad commentary on the lack of political will on both sides. While people may expect violence in a film that deals with ethnic conflict, here there are no grand dramatic gestures that turn children into martyrs, only constant reminders of everyday barriers to a sense of belonging. Even when Eyad learns the language, repeats the Jewish version of history in school, and strives to become a model Arab Israeli citizen, he is reminded every day at checkpoints and roadblocks of his being different. The political situation in Israel has deep-seated roots and we know not to expect the issues raised in the film to easily resolve themselves, yet Riklis leaves several threads hanging and insists on a forced resolution that does not ring true. While this is a regrettable choice, it does not detract from a truly fine effort.

Eran Riklis manages a touching humanist film that should engage and expand both sides of the Arab/Jewish divide in Israel — and beyond.It follows a bright young Arab boy Eyad, whose intelligent father — consigned by his earlier political activity to a career as fruit-picker — gets him into the country's premier Jewish high school. With that family as its centre the film obviously reveals the Arabs' difficulties in the (understandably) wary Jewish country. The Arabs make up 20% of the population, so they understandably chafe at soldiers checking their IDs and teachers' snide remarks and the conviction the system is prejudiced against them. Arabs steam in the kitchen while the Jewish boys get the better paying jobs as waiters. As Eyad's father summarizes it, "We want to live in dignity." Eyad's experience broadens when a community service project leads him into a friendship with Ionathan, a Jewish boy crippled with MS. He also has an affair with a bright, pretty Jewish student, Naomi, whose parents pull her out of the school to end their contact. To enable her to return, Eyad gallantly leaves the special school and studies for his exams on his own, while working in restaurants. His father disowns him in anger and disappointment.Riklis is careful to present the Jews' perspective as well. An Arab teacher teaches the map of Palestine — denying Israel — then unrolls the Israel map when the Jewish principal enters. Eyad's father and friends are certain Saddam Hussein will repel the US attack and destroy Israel in a few days. His mother knows better. The Arabs dance on their rooftops when they see the scud missiles fired at Israel.But that image does not explain the title. As Riklis told the Palm Springs festival audience, he had two other contexts in mind. Mainly the phrase suggests the Arabs' restriction to servicing (figuratively: dancing for) the Jews, whether in the kitchens or cleaning up their mess (as Eyad more heroically does for his stricken Jewish friend). He also recalled the Jewish proverb about not being able to swing one behind at two weddings at the same time. Servant Eyad is indeed torn between two dances, the Arab and the Jewish, when he ventures beyond his enclave. At school his summary of the 1948 war is the Jewish version, unshaded, but in a later discussion of Jewish contemporary fiction he details the conventions of Arab stereotypy.The two boys' mothers provide the film's moral center. Eyad's Arab mother — who has the stereotype Jewish nose — tacitly supports her son's love affair with the Jewish girl. Her concerns give way to her love and support. Ionathan's mother embraces Eyad for the comfort and life he brings her worsening son. When Ionathan nears the end, Eyad uses his passport to assume his Jewish identity, getting a waiter's job, then opens a bank account in his name to deposit the checks. Ionathan's mother is initially disturbed to discover that ploy, but when she confronts him she immediately softens at his need and promises to keep his secret. In response Eyad writes the high school exams both in his own name and in Ionathan's, securing both their graduations with identical honours. Eyad loses his beloved grandmother. Naomi denies him to win a spot on the Special Intelligence army unit. Eyad goes to university in Berlin, returning for Ionathan's last days. Then comes the film's astonishing climax. It's completely unexpected and yet perfectly inevitable. Ionathan's mother gives her son a Muslim burial under Eyad's name, to enable Eyad to pursue his life under her son's name, freed from the stigma of being an Arab. As Eyad's mother accepted her son having a Jewish lover, Ionathan's embraced her son's Arab friend. She asks him to live with them to ease her strain. Her climactic gesture reverses but fulfills the remarkable prophecy by Golda Meir: There will not be peace until the Arabs decide they love their children more than they hate the Jews. Both boys mothers' realize that; Naomi's doesn't. The message is that peace will be impossible unless both sides abandon their traditions of hatred and war. This Jewish mother abandons her religious tradition, turns her back on the past, to ensure a better future for the next generation of Jew and Arab together. We know her feeling for her Judaism from their sabbath dinner with Eyad. So we gauge the sacrifice she makes for her son's friend. Of course, in assuming the Jewish identity Eyad also abandons his past, including his family and culture. So profound is the schism that only a break with the past will bridge it. Eyad's elementary school is visited by a fatuous presenter of some Children for Peace movement. The film's climax plays out the deeper implications of that hope.