Reflecting on three years of arts coverage since October 7: Balancing culture, tragedy - comment

There were four cocktails I had never heard of at the bar that night - October 5, 2023 - and two of them were blue.

Trying to choose a drink at the awards ceremony of the Haifa International Film Festival was the defining “before-October 7” moment for me. I think all Israelis have a memory of that last “before” moment, when they still felt the world was normal.

I took one of the blue cocktails and sipped it while the winners were announced. Ironically, the award in the Israeli Feature Film Competition went to Dani Rosenberg’s The Vanishing Soldier, about a traumatized soldier fighting a war in Gaza who goes AWOL and hides in Tel Aviv as the rest of the country, thinking he has been taken hostage, searches for him.

In a further irony, about six weeks later, Rosenberg would start filming Of Dogs and Men, about a girl from Kibbutz Nir Oz searching for her lost dog just weeks after the Hamas massacre.

Over the past three years, as an arts and culture writer, I have tried my best to cope with the events of October 7 by striking a balance between writing about newly released movies and television series and covering art that chronicled and honored those who were killed or taken hostage in the massacre and the war.

Reconciling arts with ongoing tragedy

I did this while trying to make sense of what was happening.

At moments, I wondered if my work was futile: Did we even need arts coverage during this period? Why not another news page? But even in the panicked blur of October 7 itself, I started thinking about the most meaningful way I could help fill the arts pages.

First, I wanted to send David Brinn, who was then both the managing editor and the arts editor, as much material as possible as quickly as possible, so he could concentrate on the news.

I think the first article I wrote was about how people could get their money refunded for screenings on the last day of Haifa International Film Festival on October 7, which, of course, had been canceled.

After that, I thought about children. It looked as if they would be stuck at home till further notice, and as all parents know, uncertainty is hard for children to handle, as are frequent missile attacks, obviously.

During one of the trips to my building’s bomb shelter on October 7, I heard a child of about five ask her mother, “Can we still go to the playground today?”

At that moment, about five hours into the attack, we had heard nothing from any government or military official. It seemed that the attack was confined to the South of the country, but nobody knew anything for sure. “Not today,” her mother answered. “What about tomorrow?” the girl asked, and the mother said she didn’t know yet.

So, I spent part of October 7 disengaging from the news and going over all the children’s content available in Israel. I wrote articles recommending movies and series that I hoped children of different ages would love. Many TV providers made their children’s content free during this period.

The other option that occurred to me was museum websites. Many museums feature children’s content on their websites. Some added live, online activities. I wrote about as many of them as I could.

At a certain point, I knew I needed to start recommending some kind of escapist content for adults. This was a much trickier proposition. I knew that many people would not want to see anything featuring graphic violence.

If people wanted to see blood and death, they could watch the news. So, I recommended the movies and series I turn to regularly as comfort viewing, like comfort food, which were available in Israel. The main parameter was: Does this movie or series feature people I enjoy spending time with? Does it calm me?

But of course, it wasn’t all escapism. I wanted to keep the hostages present on every page of the paper. The arts community, like every community, had suffered losses on October 7. I follow a number of Israeli talent agencies on Instagram, which often promote their clients’ new projects. But the usual posts about this model’s acting debut or that musician’s new single were replaced by lists of funerals.

Quite a few of those who perished were trying to make it in the entertainment industry, like Tamar Goldenberg, an actress who had just gotten her big break, a role on the series Dismissed, but had not yet started filming. The producers dedicated an episode to her.

Yahav Winner, an independent filmmaker based in Kibbutz Kfar Aza, distracted Hamas terrorists so that his wife and baby daughter could escape, and he was killed. His last movie, The Boy, was released after his death and received an Ophir Award.

The cast and crew of Fauda, the series that depicts the exploits of the commandos in an Israeli counterterrorism unit, were directly affected by the war. Idan Amedi, an actor and singer who was one of its stars, was badly wounded fighting in Gaza.

Choosing to devote himself to his recovery and his music career, he opted out of appearing in the fifth season of the series, except for a wordless cameo.

Artists killed, kidnapped in Gaza

Matan Meir, a member of Fauda’s crew, was killed fighting in Gaza in November 2023, while Lior Waitzman, who worked in the sound department of Fauda, Tehran, and many other shows and movies, was murdered by terrorists in Sderot on October 7.

David Cunio, who had starred in Tom Shoval’s 2013 movie, Youth, was kidnapped from Nir Oz along with his wife, daughters, and brother Ariel. Shoval made a documentary about him, A Letter to David, which he edited again after Cunio was released in October 2025.

If anyone were to ask me what was the most difficult interview I ever did, I would not have to think for a second before answering, “Hen Avigdori.”

Avigdori is a television writer who is smart, funny, and warm - so why was he such a difficult interview? Because when we spoke, his wife and 12-year-old daughter were being held by Hamas, after they were kidnapped from Kibbutz Be’eri, where they were visiting relatives.

I found it hard to pick up the phone and call him, although I knew he wanted to do an interview because I couldn’t imagine how anyone in his position could speak calmly. But he was remarkably composed and articulate and said he welcomed the opportunity to keep his wife and daughter’s names in the news.

His wife, Sharon, is a drama therapist for people on the autism spectrum, and because my son is on the spectrum and greatly benefited from having this kind of therapy, we spoke a little about her work.

I felt a certain relief in his voice, a happiness at being able to speak about her gifts and the work that she loves, instead of just about her as a victim. Sharon and Noam were released in the first hostage deal.

Gradually, movie theaters began to reopen, and some version of cultural life resumed. One of the first movies to open was Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour, and I went to one of the first screenings in Jerusalem.

Many teen girls attended, some wearing sequined dresses and painting their nails every color of the rainbow in honor of seeing this movie featuring their idol.

I spoke to several of them, thinking it might make for a nice feature, but none felt comfortable giving me their names, and none were even old enough to consent to be quoted.

One said her brother was fighting in Gaza and that she had considered skipping the movie, which she had been looking forward to seeing for so long, but she was confident he would want her to enjoy herself. As we spoke, I felt that my questions were bringing them down, and I regretted approaching them.

Gradually, documentaries about the massacre were released, as well as feature films and series about the massacre and its aftermath, including Of Dogs and Men, Red Alert, and One Day in October.

Avi Nesher’s latest film, Our Loves, which just opened at the Haifa International Film Festival, tells a very human story about several people who think they are having the worst day of their lives on October 6, 2023, and then must fight for survival the next day. It will open in theaters throughout Israel on October 15.

Looking back, I wish I had found even more ways to keep the October 7 victims on the culture page, and I hope I was able to help people entertain their children and find TV content that took their minds off the news.

Thinking again about the blue cocktail array on the night of October 5, 2023, I remember that before I left, I thanked the festival public-relations manager for inviting me. “See you next year,” I said, and she replied with words that still echo in my mind: “I hope so, dear. But we never know what will happen.”