Peaches and Cream

1 Minute, Unknown date
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This scene could have easily taken place in a derelict bar in Tel Aviv. The loud electronic music, flashing disco lights, distorted sweaty faces. And here’s the big irony. This is an allegory not only for the aging director who suffers a panic attack, but for the body’s betrayal, an aging Tel Aviv bohemian in the big city. One day you’re dancing in a club, and the next day you’re in a wheelchair, waiting in line at the emergency room. Who would have thought? This is also a convincing portrait of the frustrated artist who cannot manage to live the moment while everyone around him celebrates happily, enjoying life and doing coke. The more they celebrate and the more happy they are, the more the filmmaker suffers. Maybe there’s a connection between the two. Between contentment and suffering. Aging in Tel Aviv, a city that rejoices as a means of identity, can cause feelings of discomfort. You stayed behind while the city moved forward. Zuri Shostak tries to remain relevant as a filmmaker and as a person. The effort in itself is enough to cause an imaginary heart attack.

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