This is because the director fails to express his intended idea through artistic and aesthetic means, or perhaps simply lacks the ability to do so.
The plot of Ahed’s Knee follows a director (Avshalom Pollak) who arrives in a small town to screen his film. A representative from the Ministry of Culture sets a condition: during the discussion with the audience, he can only address topics approved by the authorities. The director, who opposes his country’s political regime, refuses to accept this condition. Additionally, he plans to make a film about Ahed Tamimi.
The film’s title refers to a real person — a Palestinian girl named Ahed Tamimi. In 2017, she became known after slapping an Israeli soldier during a raid in the village of Nabi Saleh on the West Bank, for which she was sentenced to 8 months in prison. At that time, an Israeli official tweeted: “She should have been shot in the knee so she could never walk again.” The title of the film is based on this tweet, and by choosing it, the director immediately declares his political stance.
Political drama, comedy, thriller, and similar genres are inherently complex and risky in cinema. The director must know how to balance politics and art: how to prevent politics from overshadowing artistic standards, turning the film into a mere documentary reflection of reality, a shallow representation of the real world, or outright propaganda. The author’s interpretation, dramaturgical and aesthetic approach, and perspective on the events should transcend political reality, allowing the filmmaker to create something uniquely their own.
By ignoring these factors, Nadav Lapid’s Ahed’s Knee becomes a politically charged film filled with accusations against his own country. What’s worse is that the director conveys his thoughts not through artistic tools or layered storytelling, but through direct political discourse. The protagonist is not shown as a complex or contradictory character; instead, he delivers speeches filled with hatred and activist rhetoric. Rather than offering a story that transcends reality, the director provides a shallow reflection of his own political views. All of this leads to the impression that the protagonist is Lapid’s alter ego.
The film’s exposition has cinematic merit and is visually expressive. Early on, raindrops distort the surroundings of the protagonist, visually representing his chaotic inner world. Later, the expressive style of the casting scenes for the film Ahed’s Knee, which the protagonist is holding, suggests a narrative with a tense tempo. However, as the plot progresses, the director abandons this aesthetic: he minimizes suspense, slows the pace, and uses unnecessarily long takes. Occasionally, he resorts to rapid panoramas and abstract expressionist imagery with excessive camera shake, which fail to add meaning or depth to the character. Instead, they create a sense of discomfort and come across as amateurish tricks.
Moreover, the protagonist makes sweeping statements such as “Israel is an occupier, militaristic, unjust” even when the dramatic situations do not call for it. He expresses his anger by urinating in the desert and grotesquely portrays the Israeli army, in which he once served, as an orgy. One of the conflict points in the film is the director’s psychological pressure on a young Ministry of Culture employee, pushing her to the brink of an emotional breakdown. He accuses her, records their conversation, and the climax occurs when he threatens to publish the recording on social media. In the final scenes, the protagonist leaves the country, powerless and defeated. Perhaps Lapid intended to depict how the current regime pushes creative individuals to paranoia. However, due to the reasons mentioned earlier, the film feels more like a simplistic political pamphlet.
Ahed’s Knee raises the eternal question: what is the mission of art? Should it simply portray political or social issues in an unequivocal manner?
To be fair, Israeli filmmakers have produced outstanding works of art that critically examine their country’s political course. In my previous article on Aze.media, I discussed filmmakers like Ari Folman (Waltz with Bashir), Samuel Maoz (Lebanon, Foxtrot), and others who have personally experienced the Israeli-Arab conflict. They explore political conflicts on an existential level, ask questions, and tell complex, universal stories.
There are also other successful examples. One of the first that comes to mind is Greek director Costa-Gavras’ political thriller Z (1969). Based on real events, the film tells the story of the assassination of left-wing Greek politician Lambrakis and the investigation that follows. Thanks to its well-structured narrative, the conflict is examined in depth, and the dynamic editing maintains emotional tension and suspense throughout every frame.
Another example of successful political cinema is Chilean director Pablo Larraín’s No (2012), based on real events.
