Grand, cinematic music, the kind that accompanies an epic movie, swells. The words from chapter six of the Book of Joshua — in which a trumpet sounds and the walls tumble down — are shown on screen. In seconds, those words dissolve into flames and the music segues into punk rock.
Like its clever opening shot, “Jericho’s Echo: Punk Rock in the Holy Land,” is a clever documentary that sheds light on the underground music scene in Israel.
Where this movie succeeds most is in its attempt to view the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through a different lens — through the eyes of disaffected youth in the Israeli punk rock scene. But where it fails is in that same place: Much of the film, about an alternative form of music and culture, in many cases becomes just another meditation about not the conflict, per se, but one of its outcomes.
The youth who are drawn to the punk scene — so attractive because it offers an escape from their grim reality — spend much of their screen time talking about what they are trying so hard to escape from.
San Francisco-based filmmaker and independent music aficionado Liz Nord began her explorations into the Israeli punk scene by following “Useless ID,” widely considered the scene’s elder statesmen. They are at least a decade older than most in the movie.
Youthfulness predominates, especially when a band member bemoans that a suicide bomb means their gig will be empty because parents won’t let their kids go out.
In many ways, Israeli punks are no different than punks anywhere (amazingly, one band is called the Dead Rabins in a nod to one of the most famous American punk bands of the late ’70s, the Dead Kennedys). And, like punks everywhere, they are attracted to the lifestyle because of the freedom and escapism it provides.
Some of the punks distance themselves from the conflict by getting involved in issues such as globalization and animal rights, but then others sing about the militarization of Israel and Palestinian suffering.
“We buy records, they have nothing to eat,” goes one lyric.
One of the highlights of the film brilliantly shows the contradiction that is Israel, featuring a band called Chaos Rabak. One member, with multiple facial piercings and a tall Mohawk haircut, is visibly excited that his brother is coming to see him perform for the first time.
Said brother and friends show up, fully bearded, with tzitzit. When the band screams out one of their hits, “Who are you to tell me how to dress,” and “So incredibly righteous, don’t tell me what to do,” the brother and friends walk out.
“He left, but I don’t care, he’s still my brother,” the bandmember says later.
Members of the band Retribution are the only ones in the film who are nationalistic and proud of it. In their 20s, they speak in a patronizing tone about their contemporaries in the punk movement who are still in high school, suggesting that they will change their views when they age. One could blame the filmmaker for bias, but with so many bands interviewed, it seems clear that Retribution is alone in its views.
For the most part, the high school punks shown are representative of just how far this young generation of Israelis has come from its ancestors: Many of these teens have no intention of doing their mandatory military service.
“Some guys can’t serve in the army because they have no legs,” says one. “I can’t serve because of how I feel.”
Nord does a good job of giving voice to the few women in the punk scene.
But where the movie succeeds most is in showing how deeply thoughtful these (mostly) teenagers are, when the temptation is to not look past their ripped clothing, off-putting haircuts and holes in their faces.
One of the most well-known bands in the punk scene, HaPussy Shel Lussy, lost its lead singer, Omri Goldin, in a terrorist attack. The band members recall his funeral as the worst day of their lives.
“But we are still able to see that not all Arabs are bad,” says one. “This is the universal truth for us.”
“Jericho’s Echo: Punk Rock in the Holy Land” screens 10:30 p.m. Wednesday, July 27 at the Castro Theatre in S.F. and 9:45 p.m. Thursday, Aug. 4 at the Roda Theater in Berkeley. Tickets $9-$11. (925) 275-9490 or www.sfjff.org.