A spirit of absurdism occupies this film from its first twist to references to military euphemism; much is made of the language employed for the ‘fallen’ soldier (in Hebrew the word ‘nafal’ holds the same double usage as English). This style is heightened in the middle section, which takes place in a desolate landscape where four young male soldiers guard a roadblock. Such is the remoteness of the location that a boom gate rises for a passing lone camel. Bejach’s camera captures the strange beauty and impenetrability of the desert landscape. But the mud is ubiquitous, intractable. A container housing the soldiers is sinking. Like a horror film, a viscous fluid threatens to erupt from the ground. Is it the land or nature itself, threatening to swallow its inhabitants or cover them without leaving a trace? Is this ‘God’s revenge’, as one character laments in the film.

As in Waiting for Godot, the waiting involved in these soldiers’ lives is interminable but punctuated by bleak humour. Inertia and ennui are palpable, as are teenage male hormones, something that Maoz has previously explored.

Foxtrot contains strong condemnation of the Israeli Occupation over Palestinian territories – the manner in which it corrupts the nation’s morality and dehumanises its subjects – but to reduce it solely to this would be a mistake. Maoz means to make the experience discomforting for his fellow Israelis and viewers bearing witness. The bold use of the gaze as Palestinian characters look back at the checkpoint’s soldiers, including Yonatan (played with impressive vulnerability by Yonaton Shiray) reveals the indignities that emerge with such intense surveillance and policing. The expression of those subject to such checks range from intimidation, resignation, and rebellion. One memorable scene restores dignity to a Palestinian couple by a manifestation of love amid a deluge of rain, whilst highlighting a banal cruelty.

A still from Foxtrot (Sharmill Films)

Surprisingly, Foxtrot, which won the Grand Jury Prize (Venice Film Festival 2017), is as much about love as about tragedy. There is a romantic glaze to the film, one of acute nostalgia: Jessica Rabbit as object of desire; a smiling vintage pin-up incongruous in its glamour adorning the guard van; mysterious velvety tones of a radio host; the frisson of an unlikely flirtation; recollections of early stages of love. Unlike Lebanon, a brilliant and visceral experience, there is a complex female presence in Foxtrot. Michael’s mother, a German survivor of Auschwitz, is unable to give succour to her son. But once woken from sedation, Sarah Adler is luminous as Dafna; her spirit is transfiguring. Love shatters, transmutes, an incandescent flare in the dark.

Amid this devastation, Foxtrot is gloriously and audaciously tender.

Foxtrot (Sharmill Films), 113 mins, directed by Samuel Maoz. In cinemas from 21 June 2018.

ABR Arts is generously supported by The Ian Potter Foundation and the ABR Patrons.