I know that it’s rare to get two letters from me in one day, but I can’t get the movie I saw today out of my mind so here I am on a Monday night with a chorus of crickets serenading us.
As you know, I have been a fan of Amos Oz for many years, even before I met you. From him I felt the fabric of a young Israel in all its turmoil and beauty. I knew something of his fascinating bio but it was his memoir, Tales of Darkness and Love that you get a insight into his relationship with his mother who couldn’t overcome the ghosts of her Holocaust past in Russia.
Natalie Portman, took up the challenge to bring this giant memoir to the screen, as her directorial debut and also take on the role of his mom.
The Black Box is probably my favorite novel by Oz, as he breathes life into the world of Jerusalem in the early days of the Jewish State. Portman’s movie gave me rich visuals of that city in its story specificity. She was also able to capture the poetic side of Oz, the side that made it difficult for you to follow his work.
But I was blindsided as I drove with HIlda to the Burns, as we parked in the lot, as we walked across the street to the theater, deserted as you might imagine on a Monday afternoon. In fact, the movie was showing in the large theater to us and a couple in the last row.
And while I wasn’t in danger of jumping out of my seat, I did glance over to the seat to my right, where you should have been and let my hand rest on the seat. Even though Ami and Adi found it boring I think you would have loved the movie and on our way home you might have been taken to your past and shared it with me; I would have asked you so many questions that we would still be talking now.
I just downloaded the book version to my Kindle to take another spin with it now that it’s up in the front of my memories. How wonderful it would have been to read and share it with you as I did so often.
I miss the sharing of our lives, T.