Foxtrot (2017) - full transcript

THE FELDMANS

Mrs. Feldman?

Mr. Feldman...

I'm sorry.
There's no easy way to say this.

Your son Jonathan was killed tonight
in the line of duty.

I'm leaving you some pills.

Take them if you feel pressure,
suffocation,

a ringing in your ears
or intense headaches.

I don't expect you to eat,
but you must drink.

It's important to drink a lot of water.

Is this your phone?



You'll be notified
of the funeral time later today.

You don't have to take care of anything.

The funeral officer
will come this afternoon

and go over the procedure with you.

Here, Mr. Feldman. Drink.

Drink a bit.

Would you like us
to help you notify anyone?

A brother, sister or friend?

Maybe have someone come over to help?

I've set your phone to beep every hour.
It'll remind you to drink.

Now, try to finish your water.

Mr. Feldman...

Slowly.

Slowly.



That's it.

A bit more.

Take it easy.

Take a deep breath.

It's 8:00 now.
Your phone will beep at 9:00.

Then at 10:00 and so on.
Drink a glass of water every hour.

Make sure you do that.

Mr. Feldman, I'm leaving you a note

with a phone number...

for any issue that comes up, any question.
Or if you just need to talk to someone.

Don't hesitate to call.
The line is open 24/7.

Your wife will sleep
for four to five hours.

Someone will examine her
when she wakes up.

And don't forget to drink.

Even if you're not thirsty.

That's it, Mr. Feldman.
We'll be leaving now.

Are you sure you don't want us
to help you inform your family?

Your brother, perhaps?
Someone from your wife's family?

Someone from work?

If you change your mind,
just call the number I gave you.

They'll help you let people know.

Our condolences, Mr. Feldman.

Michael...

Michael...

Hey, this is Alma.
I can't pick up right now.

Text me or I'll call you back
as soon as possible. Bye.

We have to let people know.

I don't want people here now.

9 AM, DRINK A GLASS OF WATER

I'll tell Mom. You start making calls.
I don't want anyone here when I get back.

Come on, Michael.
Leave Mom out of this for now.

I need some air, AVIGDOR. I can't breathe.

Forward, forward, right and stop.

Back, back, left and stop.

Michael Feldman?

Tuck your shirt in.

Mom, something terrible has happened.

I came to tell you
that Jonathan was killed.

- You do remember Jonathan?
- Of course I do.

Who's Jonathan?

Your son, the soldier.

So, you understood what I told you?

Of course I did.

10 AM, DRINK A GLASS OF WATER

What did you understand of what I said?

That Jonathan was killed.

AVIGDOR...

AVIGDOR...

Mr. Feldman...

Second Lt. Israel Schwartz
of the Military Rabbinate.

My condolences.

I'm in charge of funeral arrangements.
We need to coordinate some details,

and brief you.

In private, if possible.

You can wait for me in the study.

"With deep sorrow," yes.

"We announce the passing of our dear son,

Jonathan Feldman.
May he rest in peace. Fallen..."

What?

No, I'm not his father. I'm his uncle.

Instead of "fallen," maybe "plucked"?

"Prematurely,"
or "in the prime of his life"?

Ah, for a soldier it's only "fallen"?

No, then that's fine.

"Fallen in the line of duty,"
if that's customary.

The funeral will take place...

Hey, this is Alma.
I can't pick up right now...

Enough!

Before we begin,
I want to confirm a few details.

Does the deceased have a middle name?

No, just Jonathan Feldman.

Staff Sergeant Jonathan...

He's a corporal, not a staff sergeant.

He was promoted after death.

A privilege for fallen Israeli soldiers.

Jonathan Feldman,
son of Michael and DAPHNA?

Then he should be a sergeant,
not a staff sergeant.

Maybe he's getting a special honor.

So... the funeral is set
for 3:00 p.m. tomorrow.

The command car with coffin
will arrive at 1:00 p.m.

I guess you know
soldiers are buried in coffins.

At 1:20, a bus will arrive, and at 1:30,
we'll head north toward the cemetery.

I'll lead the convoy in my jeep.

At 2:00 p.m., we'll be at the cemetery.

The coffin, wrapped in the national flag,
will stand in the main hall

for 40 minutes.

By 2:45, we'll begin the rending ceremony,

and the rabbi will tear your shirt.

A small rip near your heart.

As written, "Jacob tore his garments
and mourned his son, Joseph,

when they mistook him for dead."

Genesis 37:34. Then you'll recite
your first Mourner's Kaddish.

At 3:00 p.m., the funeral procession
will travel to the military plot.

You could help carry the coffin,
but I wouldn't recommend it.

It's better to support your wife.

At the grave, we begin the ceremony
for the burial of the coffin.

That's a difficult moment,
especially for the mother.

For you, too, of course.
But after all, we're men.

We'll begin the ceremony
with a three-gun salute.

Then we'll recite "May he rest in peace,"
throw dirt on the coffin...

...and say the Righteous Judgment prayer.
You'll recite a second Mourner's Kaddish.

Then the eulogies.

That's the moment to do something special,
if you want.

Like read a poem
or tell a story about him.

Say something about his character.

Maybe even something amusing.

You know,
a little smile can help you cope...

and carry on.

Then we lay the wreaths.

Two female soldiers will lay
four wreaths...

I want to see him.

- Who?
- Jonathan.

- My son.
- Mr. Feldman, that's unnecessary.

What do you mean?

A father wants to see his son
before burial. How's that unnecessary?

- That's not in my hands.
- Then who?

Mr. Feldman,

there are many ways to say goodbye.
You could read something.

Maybe something he wrote...

You could play a song that he liked.
We have a great sound system.

Or get his buddies to sing it.
You know, there's always...

a friend who plays guitar.

Do you even have a body?

What?

Is there anything left of him?

Will he be in the coffin or only bricks,
so I feel like I'm carrying something?

WITH GREAT GRIEF AND DEEP SORROW,

WE ANNOUNCE THE PASSING OF OUR
DEAR SON JONATHAN FELDMAN. R.I.P.

Are you all right?

I don't think they have a body.

He said that?

He won't let me see the body.

May you know no more grief.

Don't obsess over this, Michael.
We're atheists. What does it matter?

And Mom? Did she get anything?

She understands everything and nothing.

People want to come and show you support.

And what will they say?

"Our condolences"?

They'll tell me what a special kid he was?

They'll say, "Look how strong Michael is,
holding it together"?

Don't insist on doing this alone.

This isn't some project of yours.

Why does she call me AVIGDOR?

Hello?

When is Jonathan's Hebrew birthday?

Where's his ID?

Hi, this is Jonathan.

I'm at the end of the world
and have no reception.

Leave a message.
I'll get back to you someday.

Hi, this is Jonathan. I'm at the end
of the world and have no reception.

Leave a message.
I'll get back to you someday.

DAPHNA!

DAPHNA.
DAPHNA, wake up.

DAPHNA, it's me.

Oh, DAPHNA, DAPHNA.
Wake up, DAPHNA!

Mr. Feldman.

There's been a terrible mistake.

The soldier who was killed is named
Jonathan Feldman, but isn't your son.

It's a different Jonathan Feldman.

Your son is alive.

Safe and sound.

Alma?

Hey, Dad. You called?

Dad?

Can you hear me?

Are you all right, Dad?

Get him up. Nice and slowly.

- Where's Jonathan?
- Jonathan's fine.

Come on. Sit him down.

Easy.

DAPHNA, wake up!
Jonathan's alive. Someone else died.

Jonathan is alive, Mr. Feldman.

- Where is he?
- With his unit.

- I want to see him.
- Tomorrow or the next...

I want him home now!

- Mr. Feldman.
- Don't touch me!

What's with you, Michael? Calm down.

I'll calm down when I get my son.

You made me think he was dead
and there was no body.

Who told you that?

What does that matter now?
He's alive! It's over.

How can you be sure? Because they said so?

First he's dead, then he's alive,
who are they?

They don't know where he is!

- Mr. Feldman, he's with his unit.
- I didn't ask with whom, I asked where!

Mr. Feldman,
you're suffering from an anxiety attack.

You listen to me!
You made a mistake!

The administration made a mistake,
not us personally.

Your son is in the Seam Zone
guarding a supply route.

Nothing combat-related,
only an isolated roadblock.

Here, Mr. Feldman. Have some water.

It's all right, Michael.

Drink something. Calm down.

Stop saying that!

I'm calmer than you.

Michael?

It isn't Jonathan. It's someone else.

They made a mistake. It's someone else.

That's it. It's over.

That's it.

Hey.

Enough.

Enough.

He's alive.

It's not him.
It's not him. It's someone else.

It's someone else.

Your son is fine, Mr. Feldman.

You don't have to worry anymore.

Where did you say he is?

At a roadblock, guarding a supply route.

Where exactly is that?

Uh, near the border,
in the northern sector...

Location. Give me a location.

I'm not a field officer, Mr. Feldman.
I can't point out an exact location.

But I'll see to it that your son
comes home as soon as possible.

You haven't done that yet?

Your son will be home
as soon as we manage...

How soon is that?

Your "Seam Zone"
and all that military mumbo jumbo

can't be more than a few hours away.

- He can't stop everything...
- Stop what? Are you on his side or mine?

On yours. I just...

Stop touching me!
Why are you always touching me?

Michael, you're right.

- Mr. Feldman, it's an anxiety attack.
- But he's right!

Stay out of this.

- Let me give you a pill.
- To drug me like my wife?

You're still under the influence,
that's why you're euphoric.

Listen to me, that's enough!

Listen to me.

I know you've been through things
you haven't told me about. I know that.

These are your demons talking.

Not you.

Why talk to me like I'm crazy?
Are you with them, too?

Listen, all that matters
is Jonathan's alive.

The rest doesn't matter.
He's alive!

Alive.

Please drop it.

Please, for my sake, just this once.

For me. Please.

We'll have them leave.
Okay? Just you and me.

- We'll order take-out, get drunk.
- You're on drugs, DAPHNA.

You aren't yourself.
They woke you up too soon.

I demand you bring me back my son!
Not tomorrow, but immediately!

That's the least the army should do.

Just because I'm anxious
doesn't mean I don't make sense.

My son was dead for five hours.

Suddenly he's alive,
and you can't say where he is.

What's unreasonable about my request?
Tell me, what's so unreasonable?

You're wasting my time.
Get out.

Please.

He's in a psychotic state.
Keep an eye on him.

I'm sorry this is your attitude.
I won't judge you, not in your state.

"Psychotic state," my ass!

Bunch of impotents!
Losers. Nobodies.

What happened, Dad? You didn't pick up.
I saw soldiers. Is Jonathan all right?

Everything's fine, Alma.
I'm bringing Jonathan home. Right now.

It's all right.

- What are you doing?
- Hold on.

- Don't do that.
- DAPHNA!

- Hey, hey! Mom!
- Stop it now.

Erez? Erez, it's Michael.
I need a favor. It's urgent.

- Give me that!
- Stop that now!

What's with you?

You said you have a friend in the army.

A general, Eitan something?

Someone who can solve anything
with one call?

This morning I was informed that...

Did you know the foxtrot
is actually a dance?

The foxtrot steps are really easy.

Watch this.

Step forward, forward,
to the side and stop.

Back, back, to the side and stop.

Would you like another cigarette, darling?

Hmm. Your eyes are filled
with puppy love refrain.

But I'm making music to... my heart.

When love goes astray...

and the flame dies away...

you walk the lonesome night.

When dreams become old...

and the thrill has gone cold...

you walk the lonesome night.

Yes, you walk in the lane,

and you search for the lane
where you share

in an old love affair.

And you pray
that you'll find the little dreams...

left behind.

But the lane is gone...

and the trees are bare.

You can't help but cry...

as the hours go by.

Because you know you can't make it right.

For when love is all through...

there is nothing,
nothing to do...

but walk the lonesome night.

The container seems more
tilted than yesterday.

POTTED MEAT

Eight seconds.

If it takes less time tomorrow,
then the container is shifting.

ONE LAST BEDTIME STORY

The night before I enlisted, my dad
came into my room and told me a story.

He said I was officially no longer a child
and told me one last bedtime story.

He told me about his mom, my grandma.

She was a girl
when the Nazis killed her father

in Auschwitz during the Holocaust.

Right before they killed him,
he gave her an ancient Hebrew Bible

that had been in our family
for ten generations.

He said she should give it to her own son
when he became a soldier,

and to "never, ever...

sell it."

His last words.

Thirty years later, my dad was 13,

and the Bible that survived
the Holocaust with my grandma

was on a little shelf
in a German china cabinet

with her perfume and jewelry.

My dad knew all about the Bible,

that it was ancient, holy and rare,

that it had been her father's,
our family's most precious object,

and we must never, ever sell it.

"When you become a soldier," she told him
since he was little, "I'll give it to you.

And you'll give it to your son
when he's a soldier."

That's me.

One day, coming home from school,
my dad noticed a new store.

It sold secondhand books
and magazines from all over the world.

Back then, there were few such stores,
so my dad went inside.

Out of the corner of his eye,
he saw a magazine...

with the picture of a pinup girl.

The January 1970 pinup.

She had X's over her nipples,
but he was blown away.

He'd never seen anything like it.
He didn't even know it existed.

She smiled at him.

Mesmerized, he reached out to open it
right at the centerfold.

So there she was: a double-page spread...

And get this:
without X's over her nipples.

He observed her for only a second
until the store owner burst in.

"Hey kid, no looking. 75 lira!
Buy it or get out."

Back then, 75 lira was a fortune
for a kid.

He barely had five lira saved, so he left.

She haunted him.

He couldn't eat, drink,
or think about anything else.

He jerked off all day like a junkie,
fantasizing about his centerfold.

Miss January 1970, who he saw
for one second on Allenby St. in Tel Aviv.

Next morning,
he waited for his mom to leave the house.

He stood in front of her German china
cabinet and pulled out the Hebrew Bible.

He knew he was doing something terrible,
but couldn't help himself.

He felt himself dragged like a zombie
to Allenby St., to the store.

He saw himself hand over the Bible

and heard himself ask
to trade it for the magazine.

And just as quickly
as he had fallen in love with the pinup,

the owner said,
"Take your magazine and beat it."

He took the magazine
and shared it with all his friends.

Of course, he was king of the school,
that day.

But when he got it back,
the pages were stuck together.

It was beyond repair.

Now get this.

My dad hands me that same magazine
from 1970...

an original he ordered
on the Internet and says,

"Son, give it to your son
when he becomes a soldier.

And never, ever...
squirt on the pages when you jerk off."

I think he was high.

My parents smoke joints now and then.

What did your grandma do
when she found out?

- I never asked.
- Why not?

It was my dad's last bedtime story.
I didn't want to spoil it.

If that's how he wants the story to end...

then that's how it ends.

Seven seconds.

One second less than yesterday.

We're sinking.

What are we fighting for here?

What's the purpose?

I didn't notice you fighting,
AMIKAM.

Fighting a psychological war, sir.

Fighting the unknown.

And who's this "unknown" you're fighting?

If I knew who it was, sir,

I wouldn't call it unknown.

They are everywhere.

Even here, now.

Watching us.
Following us.

You and me, for instance.

We're being filmed right now.

That's right.

You heard me.

They are filming us.

And recording us.

If you don't know that by now,
you'd better wake up.

Because everything you see here,
the mud, the roadblock...

It's all an illusion.

You're also an illusion.

Couldn't you have been some hot blonde...

like Pamela Anderson?

Or Jessica Rabbit?

I bet Roger had one hell of a tool.

Why else would a super-babe
go for a rabbit?

Jonathan, wake up! Jonathan!

Driver, get out slowly.

Now the lady.

Out of the car.

Go help her.

Empty your purse.

We'll end up sinking completely.

It'll happen all of a sudden.

I won't even have the chance to say,
I told you so.

So I'll say it now.

Her dress is caught in the door.

Grenade!

Foxtrot to Cornelia,
we blocked the sector route.

The road is sterile.
Repeat, the road is sterile. Over.

Cornelia to Foxtrot,
Rhino enters the puddle.

Confirm.

Rhino enters the puddle. Foxtrot here.
I repeat, Rhino is in the puddle.

The way I see it,
you acted according to orders.

War is war.
We're at war here, let there be no doubt.

In war, shit happens.

What happened, happened.

I don't want to dig too deeply.
If I did, you'd all pay.

As I see it...

this case was closed
before it ever opened.

If anyone has a problem with that,
let him speak up now.

Hey, Eitan. What's up?

I see.

Which one of you is Jonathan Feldman?

Get in the supply truck.
You're going home.

Do you know why they suddenly decided
to send me home?

I'm just the driver, brother.

ONE LAST BEDTIME STORY

Michael did a terrible thing.

He gave his mother a nervous breakdown.

She was committed.

Despite Michael's unusual appearance,

he was popular among his classmates.

He became a combat officer.

He was a straight-A student.

He impressed a philosophy student.

He fell in love.

They got married.

Michael became a successful architect.

He raised a family.

In the mirror, he saw a handsome man.

He saw a strong man.

He gave himself a hard-on.

He thought nobody could see his X.

Only late at night,
when he was fast asleep,

little Michael would come along
and help him shed a tear.

Did you find what you wanted?

No.

I asked you not to come here
without calling first.

Can you go now?

I thought maybe today...

I don't want to see you,
especially not today.

I beg you, just go. Please.

Take the notebook, take whatever you want.
Just leave now.

What?

I'm leaving now, DAPHNA.

I'm sorry.

Just tell me you're okay in there.

I thought today...

You know, we'd do something...

together.

I'm sorry I threw away
the stuff in Jonathan's room.

I couldn't stand
how things lose my child's scent.

- Are you smoking again?
- What? No.

Well, then give me a cigarette.

Of all our apartments, my favorite
was the little rooftop rental by the sea.

You could taste the salt in the air.

I remember thinking
I was going to be happy.

That it was the beginning.

Then I found out I was pregnant.

I didn't want it.

I didn't.

Sometimes I'm sorry
I didn't get the abortion.

The joy of having a child
is something you take for granted.

You aren't on a constant high from it.

But the pain of not having him
never goes away.

It's unbearable.

Damn thoughts!

I loved him more than Alma.

That's a horrible thing to say.

I'm haunted by horrific thoughts.

Shrinks would be all over me, right?

Why couldn't he be dead
when they first told us?

Normally, legitimately.

Why did it have to be a punishment?
Or like revenge?

God is getting even with us.

With you, I mean. Sorry.
I didn't mean to take your credit.

You were the one who insisted
on bringing him home at once.

Knowing you didn't mean
to kill your son doesn't help.

It doesn't make me able
to sleep with you...

to live with you.

I could live with your wounds...

pretending not to see,
so I wouldn't embarrass you.

I leaned on you to make you feel strong,
so you wouldn't see I knew.

That you're weak, that you have a secret.

That you're ashamed of yourself.

That your whole life,
your office, us, the fancy car,

and that "count on me" impression
you try hard to display...

It's all there just to hide your secret,
your weakness.

You're weak, Michael.

I see it. Alma sees it.

Jonathan saw it, too.

And Max?

Max feels it between his ribs.

He has internal bleeding from your kicks.
Did you know that?

I found that among his things.

You remember how to roll?

I tore that drawing out of his notebook.

It was the last one.

I think you're the bulldozer
and I'm the car.

You're such a pro.

Some things you never forget.

Like the sea-scent
of our rooftop apartment.

Like the birthday of my child.

I think it's the other way around.
You're the bulldozer and I'm the car.

Remember what the rabbi
said at the funeral?

A fallen soldier turns into an angel.

That means Jonathan is an angel...

a sweet angel that fairies fight over.

He's probably partying right now,
having a spiritual multi-orgasm.

Which reminds me. We're invited
to a ceremony at the Ministry of Defense.

They've engraved his name on some wall
with the other fallen soldiers.

Yes, that's what they call them.

So, you want to hear?

"You're hereby invited to the unveiling
ceremony in honor of your son,

Sgt. Jonathan Feldman,
fallen in the line of duty..."

Fallen? Not died, not killed. God forbid!

He fell. Barely got a scratch!

On the program,

a speech by a Defense Ministry rep,
a moment of silence,

the unveiling, the national anthem...
Let's not forget that!

Then, of course, coffee and cake.

They serve refreshments!

- Shh.
- Wait, wait, wait. Hang on.

Mom, I'm in a hurry.
Can you make me a sandwich?

Oh, no. A sandwich now?

His text says: "At Nanuchka. You coming?"

I'll call you back.

Hey.

Hi, Alma.

Hey, Dad.

You're smoking again.

Don't be silly.

- Of course not.
- Not at all.

No.

You smoked weed!

- No way!
- Weed?

You smoked
and now you've got the munchies.

Want some cake?

Come here.

What?

Tasty?

So... I have to run.

You're beautiful when you're together.

Bye.

Bye.

When the war ended,
we drove home in a convoy.

A long narrow road. I led, as commander.

Suddenly, I stopped and signaled
to the guy behind me to drive ahead

and lead instead of me.

I still don't know why I did it,
but a few seconds later,

he drove over a landmine and blew up.

Everyone was screaming from the flames.

I froze, not having the courage
to approach.

They screamed for a few minutes.
I just wanted them to die.

I couldn't stand their screaming.

They died eventually.

That thought haunts me, DAPHNA.

I wake up and go to bed with it.

Why? Why did I send him ahead
to die in my place?

Then you got pregnant.

I couldn't let you give Jonathan up.

It was a sign to me.

Like God having forgiven me,
like my nightmare was over.

The last time I saw Jonathan was
when I dropped him off at the bus station.

He asked me to let him drive
and I let him.

Instead of enjoying my son's driving,
I answered emails.

I had no way of understanding...

the joy...

of those moments
between home and the bus station.

You know...

there's a dance...

that goes like this.

Forward, forward...

to the right and stop.

Back, back...

to the left and stop.

Forward, forward,
to the right and stop.

Back, back,
to the left and stop.

You see?
No matter where you go...

you always end up
at the same starting point.

Like this.

It's simple.

Back, back, to the left and stop.
Forward, forward, to the right and stop.