A Photographic Memory and Under the Shadow of the Sun
44th SF Jewish Film Fest
Landmark’s Piedmont Theatre
4186 Piedmont Ave, Oakland
July 18-August 4, 2024
Just two of the dazzling dozens of films from seven categories on offer this year, “A Photographic Memory” and “Under the Shadow of the Sun” both screened at historic Piedmont Theatre the afternoon of August 1 as a part of the 44th Annual SF Jewish Film Festival. Perfect for a double feature, with a brief ramen break down the block in-between, if you’re into that kinda thing. And at nearly the same price as popcorn and a drink in the theater, you might as well chow down on a gourmet bowl of noods instead.
My personalized double feature, a documentary followed by a foreign feature, was made possible by directors Rachel Elizabeth Seed and Shalom Hager. The latter film was enjoying its North American premiere. Both deal with themes of young children left involuntarily by parents, to be reunited with them, or their presence, decade(s) later. The first story a real-life unfolding of a lost mother’s legacy, the second a heartfelt look into the soul of a troubled father and teen, learning to know themselves and each other, also for the first time.
Given the matinee time slot of the first screening I was pleasantly surprised to find much of the theater full, if almost exclusively by those well past retirement age. We were greeted with a short intro and told that while Seed was indeed present, she would only be available for a very brief Q&A as she had a flight — to Europe — to catch.
The film opens with the voice of the filmmaker’s mother, Sheila Turner-Seed, while a tray with a photo develops before our eyes: a black-and-white baby Rachel and mom Sheila. An immediate sign of what’s to come, this innocent and lovely frame shadows the heartbreak to come, and the emotional journey of discovery we will take with her. Shortly after this was shot, Turner-Seed died of a brain aneurysm at the age of 42, leaving 18 month old Rachel alone with her father in London.
We are next presented with the “fantasy world” her father made of this childhood: stock photographs of her life, with captions like “8‑year-old’s birthday party,” shot and sold to finance their lives. A world of happy, whole families, no mother missing from the picture, as it were. But these are not the only images shared: their family, documentarians at heart, shot the everyday, every day, not just the milestones. So shaky, grainy Super 8 film, jumpy and alive, is interspersed, bringing motion to the static, a new filter for the emotions. I wished these clips had been held just a bit longer to chew on, as they seemed to end as quickly as they began.
The film traces Turner-Seed’s life and Seed’s desire to understand it. A class of ‘55 high school yearbook, full of fresh-faced beauties seeking the various forms of Mrs. Degrees, with “Millionaire’s Wife” drawing a laugh from the crowd. Turner-Seed, ever the rebel with a voracious appetite to learn, see, understand, photograph, and preserve, took a different path, and Seed is set on uncovering as much of that story as she is able. That story was decades ahead of its time. And Turner-Seed, towering above many at five-foot-eleven, in her quiet self-assuredness and open, gentle conversational style left subjects in an equally vulnerable and beautiful state, as witnessed through her taped interviews, photographs, and tinkling laugh. Photography so often acts a mirror, and her strength and love and deep interest in her subjects is apparent in the resulting photographs: arresting and haunting even from the start of her career.
Henri Cartier-Bresson, a pioneering humanist and street photographer and one of the most famous photographers in the collection of Turner-Seed’s interviews Seed uncovered, frames photographs succinctly: they occupy an “instant and eternity.” Seed asks if this is, in fact, a record. I say yes, but since when must a record be objective truth? The making of a photograph inherently actualizes a moment, creating something that may never have existed otherwise, with the chance to remain far beyond the subjects’ lifetimes.
Some of the more meta devices felt a bit forced to me, like Seed’s interview/conversation with her mother. Stitched from real interviews Turner-Seed conducted and modern recordings Seed created in both question and response, they were effective but a bit too on the nose. The final scene, a filmed version of the same, was a bit too neat and forced, uncomfortable, especially after 90 minutes of so much gut-wrenching pain and beauty. But I can understand the choice; the two are much alike, their frames mirrored, eyes smiling at one another with real love — enough to make me tear up, despite finding it hokey. Seed has now outlived her mother’s lifespan by 4 years and has the opportunity to grow and evolve and find herself in ways her mother was never able, and I look forward to seeing whatever project she pours her artist’s eye to next.
With a far more conventional approach, “Under the Shadow of the Sun” still pulled unexpected gut punches while also offering the occasional brief moment of levity. Simple but expertly executed, tight shots of faces and fears drive the plot under the hand of director Shalom Hager. The casting also shines. Emos Ayeno as lead Matko and Hancoch Wube as his teenage son Masgano share some brilliant and devastating scenes, young Wube’s expressiveness and soulful eyes boring into each viewer. The grimy, older white-Israeli bit players also deliver, their predation and danger so convincing it (repeatedly) elicited verbal and visceral reactions.
Hager says, via email, “In all of the films I have made to this day I have searched for moments of grace, compassion, and humanity in the darkest places. I believe in cinema’s ability to present an alternative. When dream and reality clash, cinema can maneuver the struggle between them towards the triumph of the dream.” I see this demonstrated clearly in his film: the intensity was plot-based, and though a very heavy subject, the slow and sweeping visuals were a nice respite after the nonstop barrage of content in the previous film.
The majority of screen time in “Under the Shadow of the Sun” was spent on those gorgeous, slow-moving, saturated shots of faces, hands, small worries. A small number of physically-charged scenes upset the unpeace, but mostly it carries a sustained level of anxiety, concern, and fear below the surface, buoyed by beautiful faces feeling terrible feelings. Allusions to evil abound, but its face is artfully lit. The plot is drawn from the real-life story of one of Hager’s former high-school Yeshiva students, and though the fictional version differs in fact, it is the emotional truth that matters most here: “A father’s love is extremely important in shaping our lives. Through the story of a father searching for his son we gain a glimpse of a rough, harsh world, large parts of which are shrouded in darkness…it is about a man who has sinned and been punished, and is now haunted by guilt, seeking to make amends.”
The film ends with no end, the two happily eating pita pockets in a bath of sunlight, destination unknown but amends most definitely begun.
After viewing, it is no wonder either of these films were selected for the festival or were recipients of the various grants and awards they have been chosen for. Offering wildly different viewing experiences and content to chew on, both have left me enriched and encouraging of others to seek and watch themselves.
