Word in Edgeways

Reflections on "Munich"

We finally saw Munich last week. I think of all Steven Spielberg’s films, I like this one the best because its conclusion is relatively muted, uncertain, and unstaged (unlike for example the procession of survivors laying stones at the gravesite of Oskar Schindler at the end of Schindler’s List). It is also a partial and interested film, one that could only truly belong on one side of the political divide in the Middle East; while the Palestinians are not monsters, they are not fully developed characters either. But then this is an Israeli story, a Jewish story, and it should be understood as such. It speaks its own particular language, and asks its viewers to reflect on moral questions that involve, but also supersede the events that make up its frame. Since seeing the film, I have wondered a great deal about the influence – conscious or unconscious – of the story of Samson in its construction; if Munich is drawn as much from that example as from the “real events” it portrays, then this seems to me to strengthen the case of its partiality, as well as its power, in inviting a deeper moral examination of violence and revenge.

I don’t write on this subject as any kind of expert; it just seems to me to be an interesting thread to follow, to see if it is part of the broader fabric. Let me suggest some starting points…

The Samson parallels didn’t occur to me until the last thirty minutes of the film, when I noticed that the protagonist, Avner, had allowed his hair to grow longer as his years as part of a death squad – in essence – had passed. And then I thought of the nature of his assignment: separation from normal life, dedication to a single-minded purpose; a Nazirite vow, in a sense, of the kind to which Samson was committed for life. Add to that his mother's account to Avner that his birth was a special one, a blessing from God that she prayed for on arrival in the then Palestine. Okay, so she wasn't approached by an angel in a field, as Samson's mother was, but the parallels are suggestive. Like Samson, he drinks alcohol, and kills people, in seeming violation of the Nazirite vow to foreswear strong drink and the contamination of the dead. Like Samson, also, he is a judge, although of a different sort. Delilah is there, of course, only this time as a contract killer in a London hotel bar. And this time, Samson turns her down, only to see his fellow team member fall victim to her deadly charms.

Avner's story deviates from Samson's story in other respects, most significantly in that neither is he blinded, nor does he die. Still, even the deviations are interesting fugues on the Samson theme. Samson leaves the exile of Gaza to bring a final destruction upon all his enemies, as well as himself; Avner remains in exile in America, burdened by an uncertainty that never seems to afflict Samson, at odds with the nature of his assignment, and with violence that, unlike, Samson's, has no final curtain. At this point, I could ramble on about the metaphorical meanings of death and blindness in such a reading, but I won't.... this post is long enough as it is.

Acknowledging this frame means accepting that the film cannot speak in, or with, a Palestinian voice. Consider that Samson's enemies are the Philistines, long associated with the Palestinians, for good or ill (and with what credence, I simply don't know). We know no more about the Philistines who inhabit Samson's world than we do the Palestinians in Samson's. That is a structural element of the story, and while we might want to know more about them, there is nothing in the text that gives it to us.

I believe strongly that there should be films that redress this imbalance; arguably we need them more than we need Munich, which comes up understandably short to opponents of Israel and Israeli policy. But to get as much as one can from this one film -- and I think that is a great deal -- thinking of it as a Samson story is as good a place to start as any. Was Samson righteous? Was he a misguided fool? Did he live up to his promise as a special man, chosen by God? Samson, like many other Bible characters, isn't much given to introspection; but we, as readers, can do it for him. This, after all, is the true point of criticism.

posted by Sylvie @ 10:11 AM