When a filmmaking duo learned that Aviv and Liat Atzili, a couple from Kibbutz Nir Oz, were among those captured in the Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas attack in Israel, they were stunned.
The Washington-based brothers, Brandon and Lance Kramer, were distantly related to the missing pair and reached out to the Philadelphia-born Israeli relative they had in common, Yehuda Beinin, the father of Ms. Atzili. It was unclear if she and her husband were dead or alive, or, at that point, if anyone would ever know what happened to them.
As they spoke together, the filmmakers and their cousin began to understand that Yehuda’s quest to save his daughter and son-in-law should be documented. The family members were caught in the most excruciating chapter of their lives in real time. It was also a historic moment, with a protagonist who was fighting for his daughter at the same time he was outspoken in his criticism of both Hamas and the Israeli government.
Why We Wrote This
What is an appropriate way to document the journey of a family who had members taken hostage in the Oct. 7 Hamas attack in Israel? The director of “Holding Liat” talks with the Monitor about the decision to make the award-winning film.
“Holding Liat,” the film that emerged from that initial conversation, has since won best documentary at the Berlin International Film Festival. Ahead of its U.S. premiere this week at the Tribeca Festival in New York, the Monitor spoke with director Brandon Kramer about the complexities of filming such an intimate, politically and emotionally charged story. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.
How did the making of the film evolve?
Initially we thought maybe this would be something we would edit together fast and use to raise awareness around the issue. And then, after a few days of filming, in the scene where Yehuda, Tal [his youngest child], and Netta [his grandson] are convening in the lobby of the hotel and talking about what they want to tell U.S. lawmakers in their conversations – and you just had three people who are all facing this impossible nightmare of their daughter, sister, and mother, and father, taken and missing, trying to fight for their lives.
And at the same time, each one of them having a drastically different way of processing that grief, each with a different political view and having a different view on whether or not politics should even be a part of the struggle. And they are also three different generations. It felt like we were bearing witness to a kind of conversation, a kind of fracture within the family that, in many ways, is kind of a microcosm for a lot of the schisms that were happening in communities and families all across the world. And we knew the world was focused on this crisis and there would be a lot of stories that are going to be told about this attack and its aftermath, and we felt like we had an opportunity to tell a different kind of story – one that is very focused on a family’s experience, and that really embraces the nuanced experiences that these different family members are having.
You had incredible access in making the film because of your connection with the family members. How did you navigate tricky issues of privacy?
There’s no one-size-fits-all for this kind of thing. There were moments when I would come and tell people, “I’m both a filmmaker and a relative, and we are making this documentary for this purpose.” And then there were some moments … when something’s just happening, so you film, and then tell people after the fact. There’s the case with Liat when she is at the hospital [after she is released during a ceasefire almost two months after she was taken hostage]. It was one of the most ethically complicated experiences of my filmmaking life, because there’s no way for me to ask her [in advance], “Are you OK with us filming this incredibly sensitive moment right in your life, returning to your family after 54 days of not knowing if your children are alive or died.’’ And ultimately, we talked with Yehuda and [his wife] Chaya and their daughter Tal, and we had their blessing. So we filmed that moment [with a cellphone] in order to be less intrusive. And then 12 hours later, Israeli army [officers] come and take the family aside and told them that Aviv had been killed. And that is a moment you don’t see because there was no way I was going to film a family just having found out that their husband or father was killed.
How did you decide to make Liat’s father, Yehuda, the central character?
As a filmmaker you look at what character in your ensemble is trying to accomplish something. Whose actions have consequences and affect the relationships around them? And it was Yehuda who is driving the decision to go to America to advocate for Liat’s release and for peace and reconciliation the day after [the war] and to use his platform to also think about how to end this conflict more broadly. It was an extraordinary action to be taken at that point in time. Now it’s a little more commonplace, but at that point, it’s not commonplace at all. And the way it affected his daughter Tal, his grandson Netta, and wife, Chaya. Because it was his decisions and actions that were to reverberate, creating consequences throughout the whole family. It became clear to us that he needs to be the protagonist of the film.
All of them have experienced very traumatic things, they’ve felt it, and they’re all processing it in a different way. My role as a filmmaker is how to authentically be representing their experience. And to ask myself: Can I create a narrative vessel for people of different backgrounds and ideologies to watch it?
How did you address making a film when views on the subject are so deeply polarized?
This is not a film made with a specific political agenda or message. There’s real power in seeing and observing and connecting with the complexity of a family’s lived experience. But the fact that Liat came out of the experience she had with both the grief of having to be a widow and to children who were traumatized … and felt empathy for the suffering that she observed of innocent people that are being killed [in Gaza]. It was an extraordinary thing to see that she suffered what she suffered and returned with a call for empathy and peace. That was profound. And I hope, whether you agree with her feelings or not, and I know not everyone does, that people can have the openness to hear her.
