Israeli Cinema: From Nation-Building to Self-Critique

Israeli cinema, long marginalized on the international stage, has in recent decades emerged as a distinctive and powerful voice, at the crossroads of the personal and the political. It bears witness to a constantly evolving society, torn between identity quests, geopolitical conflicts, and growing artistic recognition worldwide. Deeply rooted in Israeli reality, this cinema interrogates both internal tensions and global issues, becoming an essential window for understanding the complexity of Israel.

Founded in 1948, Israel is marked by ethnic, religious, linguistic, and cultural diversity that is reflected in its cinema. From its beginnings, Israeli film was used as a tool for nation-building, promoting the sabra (the native-born Jewish pioneer), the land, and Zionist ideology. However, starting in the 1970s, Israeli cinema began to break away from the dominant national narrative to explore alternative voices. Filmmakers adopted a more critical lens on Israeli society, highlighting ethnic divisions (between Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews), social inequalities (between privileged classes and marginalized populations), and religious tensions (between secular and ultra-Orthodox communities). Directors like Ronit Elkabetz, Dover Koshashvili, and Eran Riklis helped reveal the complexities of Israeli identity, particularly through characters from social or ethnic peripheries, such as Moroccan Jews or women in patriarchal societies.

The central figure of Israeli cinema: the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It permeates many films—sometimes directly, sometimes subtly. It shapes narratives, influences character psychology, and drives the moral dilemmas faced by protagonists. Films like Beaufort (2007) by Joseph Cedar, Waltz with Bashir (2008) by Ari Folman, and Foxtrot (2017) by Samuel Maoz belong to this genre. These works deal with the traumas of war, collective memory, military critique, and individual guilt in the face of received orders. The originality of how the conflict is treated lies in Israeli cinema’s capacity for introspection and often self-criticism, far removed from propaganda. It seeks to humanize all parties involved, including Palestinians, as in The Bubble (2006) by Eytan Fox or Ajami (2009), co-directed by a Jewish and an Arab Israeli, which depicts the challenges of coexistence in a mixed neighborhood of Jaffa.

Israeli cinema underwent notable diversification in the 2000s, increasingly including narratives from minority groups: Arab Israelis, Ethiopian Jews, African migrants, LGBTQ+ individuals, ultra-Orthodox communities… These voices, long marginalized, have now found meaningful cinematic expression. Films such as Jellyfish (2007) by Etgar Keret and Shira Geffen or The Lemon Tree (2008) by Eran Riklis reflect this openness to more universal narratives while maintaining a strong local identity. Queer filmmakers like Eytan Fox have also contributed to this evolution by focusing on LGBTQ+ themes in a country where religion remains influential. Similarly, ultra-Orthodox cinema, although often produced on the fringes of the mainstream industry, is experiencing significant growth. It offers immersion into a closed world rarely depicted on screen, while exploring the tension between tradition and modernity.

Since the 2000s, Israeli cinema has been acclaimed at major international festivals. Several films have been nominated for the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film (Beaufort, Waltz with Bashir, Ajami, Footnote, Foxtrot). Waltz with Bashir, in particular, left a lasting impression through its bold style—a documentary in animation form about the Lebanon War—and its emotional intensity. However, this recognition sometimes comes with controversy. Some accuse Israeli cinema of being used as a tool of hasbara (cultural propaganda), while others criticize it for “tarnishing Israel’s image” by exposing its flaws. This dual critique reflects the uncomfortable—but also courageous—position Israeli cinema occupies on the global stage.

In less than half a century, Israeli cinema has evolved from a nationalist tool into a space for introspection, protest, and creativity. Driven by a generation of bold filmmakers, it explores the very notion of identity in a country in constant self-questioning. Through its narrative richness and ability to portray human vulnerability, it has carved out a unique place on the world stage, becoming an essential lens through which to understand a nation as fascinating as it is controversial.

Caroline Haïat