Film

Tellingly, one of the codirectors of this deeply humane Arab-Israeli drama—Palestinian filmmaker Scandar Copti—also plays its most empathetic character: Binj, a likeable, long-bearded stoner. True to his name (or at least its sound), he seems to be suffused with the modern possibilities in Israel: dance clubs, cute Jewish girlfriends, recreational drugs. Binj works happily in a kitchen in Jaffa, a subdivision of Tel Aviv and a tense melting pot. Alas, even someone as laid-back as Binj is drawn into the region’s endless cycle of violence, which the expertly woven Ajami presents as inexorable.

Ajami is Israel’s submission to the Oscars, and like the gritty City of God before it, it takes harrowing, tricky circumstances and illuminates them with Scorsesian snap. You might get a little lost in the folds, but the anchors are solid: Along with Binj, we meet a sweet Arab teen, Omar (Kabaha), who unexpectedly becomes a gang target; a younger kid, Malek (Frege), who finds himself on the verge of drug dealing to pay for his mother’s bone-marrow transplant; and Dando (Naim), a heavyset Jewish cop and daddy searching for his disappeared brother. Culpability is not ignored in these strands: Everyone’s a little guilty and the total picture is a vivid one. The combustible movie has had a strangely unifying effect on audiences worldwide; it deserves to find traction where it counts.