Silent Films in Palestine

A centenary is always a good opportunity for stock-taking. Three years ago, during 1995, marked throughout the world with a plethora of events as the centenary of the motion picture, a particular focus was quite naturally directed at the mediums origins. Israel was no exception and October 1995 saw the publication of the first historical survey devoted to its silent cinema. Though the silent film is no longer in the consciousness of the general public, it was dominant for over a quarter of the cinemas first century, and though cinematic language continues to develop, the ground rules of cinematography and editing were laid in those first few decades. Many of the titles appearing on todays perennial and ubiquitous "Best Films of All Time" lists are silents. Most people, however, are aware only of a few classics and some slapstick comedies, and are oblivious to the enormous body of work between them, up to 90 percent of which is estimated to have vanished.

At first glance, it is difficult to see how Israel fits into this history. It is usual for cinema to be considered primarily in terms of feature films, and the statistics tell us that only one Hebrew feature Oded hanoded ("Oded the Wanderer," 1932), was made before sound film production began in Palestine. This can hardly be considered participation in the silent era of film history, neither in terms of quantity, nor chronologically. Talking pictures came to Hollywood in 1927 and the last major silent feature was released in 1930.

And yet, there is a lot that can be said about silent filmmaking in Jewish Palestine, much of it interesting precisely because it is not comparable to the film history of any other country. It is ironic though, that while the American film industry became such a phenomenal business success in the hands of Jewish immigrants and their children, most of early Israeli film history was determined by financial limitations.

The divergence from the path followed by film in most countries was not gradual, but existed from the very beginning and was intimately connected to the Jewish national political developments of the time. To put it another way: because Zionism, the political movement most responsible for Jewish rebirth as a nation, was only really born in the same years as the cinema, one must speak not of a national cinema that reflected a national identity, but of a "pre-national" cinema, one of whose tasks was to shape the identity of a nation in the making. Elsewhere, cinema may have passed from the hands of its inventors into the hands of showmen (ranging from the fairground variety to the Hollywood moguls). In Jewish Palestine, filmmaking began as just another arm of the Zionist propaganda apparatus and for many decades, even well after the establishment of the state, had great difficulty in maintaining any existence outside this framework.

Palestine, in its capacity as an exotic Middle Eastern land that had been the setting for the stories of the Bible, had been on the agenda of foreign, non-Jewish, filmmakers from the very beginning. A series of short films shot in 1896 or 1897 by Alexandre Promio, a cameraman for inventors Auguste and Louis Lumière, were the first made in the country. It was only a couple of years later that a young Polish Zionist studying in Vienna, Adolf Neufeld, came up with a proposal to employ the cinematograph, along with the phonograph and magic lantern slides, in a Zionist exhibition. It is tantalizing to ponder what we might possess today had all of Neufelds ideas been carried out. No motion picture record of Theodor Herzl is known to exist, but Neufeld urged that film and phonograph records be combined to produce a "talkie" of the Fourth Zionist Congress in London in 1900. Neufeld himself did not attend the Congress, but discussion of his scheme resulted in Herzl sending a motion picture camera to Palestine. The operation, however, was not handled according to Neufelds carefully calculated guidelines, and two frustrating years later some exposed negative film was returned to Vienna and judged useless.

This discouraging experience marked the end of official Zionist filmmaking for quite a number of years, and the first such film to be completed was the result of a private initiative. Murray Rosenberg, a British Zionist who had been personally acquainted with Herzl, had taken still photographs on a 1904 visit to Palestine, just before Herzls death, and projected them as magic lantern slides before enthusiastic audiences. By 1911, Rosenberg had established connections in the British film industry and taken up cinematography, and in that year he embarked on a second trip to Palestine with his motion picture camera.

Rosenberg filmed in Tiberias and Haifa, and extensively in Jerusalem, devoting a lengthy section to the Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts. He also passed through, but did not film, the new Jewish neighbourhood established near Jaffa, noting in his diary "Dont think much of Tel Aviv." The completed film, a version of which was also distributed commercially, premièred at the 10th Zionist Congress in Basel, to great acclaim. The Jewish National Fund, which was then expanding its activities in the area of magic lantern slides, began to consider film as well.

In the period between Rosenbergs film and the outbreak of World War One, the JNF was in contact with French and Russian companies that either filmed, or expressed interest in filming, in Palestine. There was apparently even one locally-based film company in 1914, headed by one of Tel Avivs founding fathers, Akiva Arieh Weiss, though what the company actually achieved is still one of the biggest mysteries in Israeli film history.

Ya'akov Ben Dov (bare headed) and a friend, Kalman Aharoni, in the 1920s

The turmoil of World War One led to a hiatus in organized attempts to establish film among the Zionist propaganda media. One individual, however, did not let the extreme privations of the war deter him from his dream of making motion pictures, a dream which finally came true in late 1917. Ukrainian-born Yaacov Ben Dov had been the school photographer at Bezalel when Murray Rosenberg paid his 1911 visit, and his subsequent unceasing efforts to obtain his own film camera bore fruit in time for him to immortalize the most dramatic moment of the war in Palestine: the triumphant entry into Jerusalem at the end of 1917 of the British General Allenby.

This marked the beginning of the most prolific career of Palestines silent film era. Both with and without the support of the JNF (and the Palestine Foundation Fund Keren Hayesod founded in 1920), Ben Dov would be the main film chronicler of Zionist work in Palestine until his inability to acquire sound equipment ended his career in the early 1930s. Ben Dovs most frequent collaborator, often uncredited, was his friend Joseph Gal-Ezer. At the time he first became involved in film, towards the end of World War One, Gal-Ezer was secretary to Arthur Ruppin, head of the World Zionist Organizations Palestine Office. From 1926 he was a propaganda official of the PFF, having earlier been responsible for film questions in the JNFs National Committee. Gal-Ezers opposite number, in almost every sense of the word, was Julius Berger, who had been one of the first to make Zionist activity a profession, in the middle of the centurys first decade. Not only was Bergers progress, from the PFF to the JNF, the opposite of Gal-Ezers, he also developed into an implacable foe of Ben Dovs. In 1924, Berger was even alleged to have spent JNF money on the establishment of a Christian-Arab film company to compete with Ben Dov. While Bergers five years with the JNF cannot be considered successful, and ended in his dismissal, his constant search for alternatives to Ben Dov did result in some historically interesting contacts, both in Palestine and abroad.

Jewish farmers till the soil in Myrray Rosenberg's "The First Film of Palestine," 1911

The farce is resolved in the final denouement in Viyehi beyemei..., 1920s

Mendel the tailor's attempt to escape is blocked by his wife - Viyehi beyemei...

The Jaffa Gate in the "First Film of Palestine," 1911

The First Film of Palestine," the courtyard of Bezelel. Ben Dov is photographing in the rear

While it is rare for historical developments to be neatly packaged into decades, for Zionist film the 1920s constitutes just such a neat package, albeit with a fringe or two at either end. The 1920s saw, on the one hand, the early independent efforts of Ben Dov transformed into the basis of JNF and PFF filmmaking. With only the most trifling exceptions, this remained resolutely non-narrative, documentary-style propaganda. On the other hand, the earliest known narrative film scripts (by Joseph Gal-Ezer) are dated 1920. While many such scripts were to be written in the years that followed, by authors including Avigdor (Hameiri) Feuerstein, Zalman Yitzchak Anochi and Zeev Jabotinsky, not one resulted in a finished film. In fact, only one case is known in which production of a narrative script was even begun. It was in 1929, however, that a group formed with the intention of producing dramatic films, without official propaganda being one of the declared aims. Even though this attempt also failed, it is highly significant in that it was a regrouping of some of the same individuals who finally enjoyed a brief success in 1932.

It is thus feasible to regard the journey to feature films as the real "story" of this era. Before making some scenic pit stops along the route to this destination, the point of origin ought to be clarified. Ben Dovs first three films, the last of which was purchased and adapted by the JNF, may be described as annual news summaries, with agriculture and settlement as padding. His three main PFF films, shot in 1924, 1926 and 1928, all had broad thematic frameworks, wide enough to accomodate almost any place or activity the producing organization wished to showcase. It is easy to see why agitators for change, like Julius Berger, claimed that the funds were wasting their money making and remaking the same film. A more positive impetus for the cause of features came from Joseph Gal-Ezer, who may really deserve credit for getting the ball rolling. In Gal-Ezers ideas, repeatedly expressed in writing to a number of Zionist bodies during the early 1920s, the dramatic feature film would be the culminating stage in the establishment of a national film industry capable of financial self-sustenance. One prominent common denominator linked almost all the propaganda documentaries that were made with almost all the dramatic features that were planned: a striving to show as much of the country as possible, with an understandable emphasis on Zionist endeavours.

Shimon Povsner as Oded in "Oded the Wanderer," 1932

Shimon Finkel's fear of horses led to filming this shot from "Oded the Wanderer" while he is seated on a barrel

Cast and crew of Viyehi beyemei

No plot would seem to fit these requirements as perfectly as one whose main character was a Jewish tourist discovering the land, and this was precisely the framework adopted by the earliest film with a narrative thread, "Palestine Awakening" (1923). A convenient coincidence, rather than any profound planning, was responsible for this. Just after the JNF had signed Yaacov Ben Dov to an exclusive six-month contract, without really knowing what to do with him, an American Zionist, William Topkis, arrived in Palestine to help the first licensed Jewish tour guides gain a foothold in the Arab-dominated market. "Palestine Awakening" served the interests of both the JNF and Topkis, who wrote and directed the film. Shortly after the film had been completed, Julius Berger began his term of duty at the JNF head office in Jerusalem. Berger was appalled by the performances of the actors in the film and used his influence to have their presence severely cut. The reactions to "Palestine Awakening" were fairly typical of those to most Zionist films of the decade. Despite occasionally withering criticism from both Jewish and non-Jewish sources, the main target audiences in Jewish communities worldwide flocked to see the images of Jewish rebirth in Palestine that had been created with them in mind. Not only did they come to "Palestine Awakening" and the other JNF productions, they paid to come and made hefty contributions at the mid-screening collections that were always held according to a rigidly enforced system. At one Berlin performance of "Palestine Awakening" in December 1923, the spectators gave over three times as much during the intermission as they had spent on admission to the show itself.

The one true feature film dealing with Zionism that was shot at least partly on location in Mandatory Palestine was a foreign production. This fascinating episode is so obscure as to have gone unmentioned in all Israeli film histories to date. "Jacobs Well" (aka "A Daughter of Israel") was based on a novel by the French writer Pierre Benoit, who was best known for his LAtlantide. The plot revolved around a Jewish girl who gains a reputation for her exotic dancing before she falls under the idealistic influence of a Zionist leader. In early 1925, PFF representatives came to an agreement with a production company, Markus and Steiger, which had purchased the film rights. The PFF would provide assistance to the film crew in Palestine in exchange for a favourable portrayal of Zionism in the finished product. Although most of the supporting cast were French, both the director and the female lead had made their reputations in Hollywood. Little of Edward Josés reputation as a director has survived to the present day, though as an actor he had co-starred with the most famous screen vamp, Theda Bara, in her early success, "A Fool There Was" (1915). Betty Blythes most memorable role had come at the beginning of the decade, when she played the Queen of Sheba in the Fox epic of the same name.

According to world cinema of the silent era, the Middle East was a romantic place peopled by dashing sheikhs of the kind popularized by Rudolph Valentino. Biblical films were the only genre to show Jews as inhabitants of the area. "Jacobs Well" remains the sole example of a film set in Eretz-Israel in modern times that related to contemporary political developments and the part played in them by Jews.

The Zionist official most responsible for liaising with the crew of "Jacobs Well" was Gershon Agronsky. Later, as Gershon Agron, he would found The Palestine Post (today The Jerusalem Post) and become mayor of Jerusalem, but in 1925 he was director of the Palestine Zionist Executives press office. In his final report, submitted to PFF secretary general Leo Herrmann after the end of location shooting but before the rest of the film had been completed, Agronsky noted that "in view of the fact that the book was, from our point of view, so highly undesirable, the scenario may be said to have been somewhat less so." Zionist dissatisfaction with the film existed on a number of levels. The least serious was the use of elements of a purely fanciful nature, such as the setting of a scene in the "Haifa Music Hall," an imaginary venue for which there was no real-life counterpart. Part of the plot hinged on melodrama and included the theft of a colonys funds by an official jealous of his leaders involvement with the Betty Blythe character. Despite vociferous Zionist objections to this scene, it was too integral to subsequent developments for the filmmakers to consider its omission. The most disturbing aspect was the general image conveyed of Zionism. The main Zionist character was not only physically unattractive, but also the diametrical opposite of the "new Jew" promoted by the movement. Generous exposure of Jewish agricultural and construction work would have balanced this liability. In only one country, however, Britain, was the local distributor willing to add a greater quantity of such footage to the film.

In the following year, a British production was proposed that tried to combine reference to Jewish pioneering with the Valentino-esque conception of the Arab population. Although the filmmakers apparently never brought this script to the screen, they did modify their original ideas to conform with Jewish/Zionist sensibilities. Thus, the estate of the powerful Palestinian Arab landowner was moved just across the border to Syria; he saves the Jewish heroine from a specially inserted boating accident so that feelings of gratitude could be substituted for those of love; and the girls eventual abduction to his harem is no longer carried out by the sheikh himself, but without his knowledge by his unscrupulous servants.

The year 1927 saw two of the most interesting attempts at local feature film production. One was a script, "Balm in Gilead," written by none other than the Revisionist leader Vladimir Zeev Jabotinsky, about which Julius Berger was extremely enthusiastic. Elements from both Jabotinskys personal history and his politics found their way into the story, and one prominent character was transparently modelled on the fallen military hero Joseph Trumpeldor. Almost anyone with professional motion picture experience could be cited as an "expert" in Zionist circles, and the negative opinion of several of these, on artistic grounds, caused the plan to be dropped before it could fall victim to the political controversy it seemed likely to stir.

The other project was the only one of all the abortive schemes actually to commence filming. The script of "The Pioneer" was authored by a young cinematographer, Natan Axelrod, who took it to Tel Aviv film translator Yerushalayim Segal. Segal saw potential in the youth and his brainchild and formed the Moledeth company to realize the idea. Conflicting reasons have been given for the premature closure of the production, but they all boiled down to a question of finance.

It was finance, too, that led to the dissolution of the Zohar company, formed in 1929 to make feature films of a "national-romantic content." The enterprise, headed by the writer Shlomo Ben-Yisrael, with his cousin, stage actor Chaim Halachmi, as director, Zvi Goldin as art director and Aharon Sutker as cameraman, was a private one and, while its stated aims included showing the countrys creative life and spreading the idea of Jewish national revival, it was not beholden to any official Zionist platform.

Halachmi and Goldin continued to seek a path to their goal after the break-up of Zohar and in early 1932 they were joined by the equally persistent Natan Axelrod, who had an idea for a short comedy. With its production, and the subsequent release of Oded Hanoded, a new chapter in Israeli film history began.

(See also book review in this issue)