From the movie screen, scholar and poet Marilyn Venig watched the changes taking place in Israel's ultra-Orthodox society. Venig, who embraced religion and joined the closed Belz Hassidic sect at age 20, Venig has followed Haredi film from its inception in the 1990s. Her first book, "Haredim Film" (Hebrew title), published about a decade ago, was groundbreaking in its field and redefined the unique Haredi film activity. Her latest book, title "Film of their Own" in Hebrew, is a continuation of that same research and focuses on a particular and intriguing side of the subject – the new wave of women in Haredi film.
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"You need to be a juggler to produce research like this, you need to be very creative. Because I'm on the border between these two societies, I can take the position of a researcher and examine this world," Venig says.
"You need to understand – Haredi film is flourishing. There are creators who have already come out with 12 titles, mothers of many children who have made 10 films and more. A regular film scholar has very methodic academic tools, but he doesn't know how to translate the Haredi language into 'secular.' There were a lot of factors that positioned me at the right timing. But it wasn't easy, because a lot of people are dismissive when a researcher is a Haredi woman, a mother of seven, married to a Torah scholar, who has an avant garde, creative approach and infects everyone with her enthusiasm. It strikes at something they hold dear."
In her book, Venig exposes the unique intimacy and excitement that Haredi film in general and female Haredi film in particular create. In event venues, community centers, women of all ages – grandmothers, mothers, and children – gather to spend two hours watching thrillers and dramas produced by Haredi women. They learned the craft by practicing it, out of passion for pictures on screen, for breathtaking stories. That is a female space. If in Haredi literature, women writers need to take a male pseudonym in order to publish their books, in Haredi film men use women's names to present their films to women. Adherence to Jewish law is the law of Haredi art, but the very ability to tell a story, portray the fringes of the society and touch the people's heart in the most direct way possible opens the door to a new Haredi experience.
"In Haredi films that present a male character, the protagonist is usually a widow, to avoid minefields of modesty," Venig explains. "Women's film completes the picture – it represents the woman's side of the Haredi story."
In a closed society that keeps away from technological innovations and carefully chooses the content that will fill its few leisure hours, Haredi film offers a new approach toward the Haredi leadership.
"One of the most amazing things about Haredi women's film is that no rabbi has ruled that filmmaking is allowed and should be done," Venig says. "There are even rabbis who have absolutely forbidden it. And still, it's become such a dominant phenomenon."
She attributes the change to the vacuum left after a few major rabbinical figures, like Rabbi Shach or Rabbi Eliyashiv, left when they died. No spiritual leaders of their magnitude rose to take their places, and cultural phenomena make their way in from the street. Venig sees major social changes in the films themselves.
"I see an immediate link between the changes that started in the second decade of Haredi film to the fact that women in the 21st century are seeking more college education. Some might say that there's no way of proving that, but we can clearly see that in the second decade of films there are more characters of female doctors, lawyers, politicians, and actually these are the fields that most women are studying now," she says.
In the past decade, Venig has not stopped creating and working – as a poet, a film critic, a screenwriter, and a reader at film foundations are only some of her activities. Her husband, Erez, spends his days studying Torah at a kollel.
"It seems to me to be supreme happiness to swim in a sea of books and words. Even now I'm envious of all the Torah scholars, whether it's my husband or my son. I'd be happy to be a Torah scholar myself," she laughs.
"There's something inspiring about it, to delve into Torah, to write new things, without the burden and the existential and material struggles that shrink your soul. In general, books for us are like food. Even if we need to tighten our belts – we'll always buy books. There were periods when we were our children's friends' library. We always had all the new books – comics, Haredi books, literature."
'I saw evil up close'
She was born in Australia, made aliyah with her parents at age three, and attended the experimental school in Jerusalem, where she studied theater and art.
"I was raised in a liberal home, a very clear secular reality, with a very clear route. But there was something in me that looked at the sky, stared at the stars. The first time I heard the word 'God' I didn't understand what it was. I asked them to explain it to me. It was so marvelous to me. I'd talk to him for hours through the window."
From a young age, she wrote in newspapers for children and teens. "My father taught me to read at age three. I was a bookworm from a very young age," she says. She did her military service at the IDF's Bamachane newspaper, while also studying drama at the Nissan Nativ Acting Studio. At age 20 she embraced religion with her boyfriend, and they became Belz Hassids. While raising her family, Venig continued to create and initiate new projects.
She established Haredi artistic frameworks such as an acting studio, as well as a drama track at a well-known girls' seminary, as well as founding an association of Haredi artists. Her first book, published in 2011, introduced Venig to the general public. She then published two books of poetry and became known as a critic.
Currently, she is coming out with a new musical project titled "Subtext" with singer-songwriter Asi Meskin, and has been working on a few film scripts.
Venig doesn't leave things in the idea stage. After her first book on Haredi film, she took up political work to promote her cultural vision. She was aiming for the film portfolio in the Jerusalem Municipality, so she joined forces with city councilman Ofer Berkowitz and ran on his list in the municipal elections.
She was not aware that this decision would rock her world. The decision to run on a secular list stuck in the craw of Haredi society.
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"I didn't look at it as a political move, rather as a way of helping filmmaking. That turned out to be a tragic mistake, because the move was seen as political. It caused a storm that shook up our world. A lot. So I dropped it very quickly. I'm not willing to mix outside matters with matters at home. The moment the decision shook up the lives of my entire family, I realized that it was a warning light. I saw evil from up close, it was a terrible experience," she says.
Staying human
Venig got to know another kind of political arena on committees and in foundations that support films. After the success of her book, then-Culture Minister Limor Livnat suggested she serve on the Israel Film Fund. Venig did so for four years, exerting an important influence on what was happening in Israeli film.
Q: Some people complain about politicization in the organizations that provide support for films. Did you experience that?
"At the time I was sort of an opposition. I wanted to change things and I acted out of ideology and integrity and a desire to listen. When I sit on a committee, I try to stick to the matters at hand. I got a lot of phone calls that tried to sway me in different directions, but I know that when it comes to these things, there are no games – either the film is good, or it isn't. You can't give money to something that is less than good, and that was my position. If there's a situation in which two films are equal in quality and I need to decide which gets support, I would prioritize a woman over a man, a minority over someone from the hegemony. But again, only if the two films are really high-quality."
Q: Do you feel that you are paying a price for breaking down barriers in two societies – Haredi and secular?
"I'm not part of any academic clique that will defend me. I'm not looking to be embraced by the Haredim or the secular, or for justification. I can say that despite publishing four books, and much proven activity on the ground, I'm not a candidate for prizes or important jobs, and I'm still fighting for my place in the establishment. And in general, it's easy to criticize when there's no competing literature in the field, when you're creating something from nothing, when there's no body of work to stand on. So if I'm honest, I sometimes lose confidence in myself and fall down. People are always talking about social variety and the status of women and pluralism – that's nonsense. Often, you're judged severely … see Diaspora Affairs Minister Omer Yakelevich or all the Haredi women who tried to achieve things. These are women who are judged disproportionately. We need to pave the way, with a lot of difficulty, a lot of struggle. It's a war of survival. They trample you and you need to scream."
Q: When you look at Haredi society and see the growing integration of media, can you see a change? Will media 'bring down' Haredi society?
"Media won't defeat the Haredim, but boundaries are definitely changing. Back in my first book, I pointed out that through media, the wall of isolationism is becoming transparent. Haredi society has become more colorful in the past decade, and it is dealing with new challenges it didn't have in the past, primarily media challenges. The trends of people embracing religion and leaving the religious lifestyle which influence sectoral dynamics, as well as its film, have also changed unrecognizably, and all this demands re-thinking."
Venig adds that "In the book, I also pointed out the fact that a lot of great leaders had died in the second decade of the 21st century, meaning that the character of the leadership is also in constant flux, and if the fence moves a few centimeters, it has an effect – particularly on the day-to-day reality, from disputes to division on the ordinary field where the haredi lifestyle meets Israeli-ism."
Q: How did you experience the Mount Meron tragedy?
"Unfortunately, what happened at Meron exposed a lot of hatred that exists toward Haredi people and their faith. There were people who found it difficult to separate valuing a human life and valuing the lifestyle, and removed themselves from a national tragedy in an inhumane manner. There is no heart that wasn't moved to introspection, except the ones made of stone. It's all right to ask why it happened at such a holy place and time, but where does all this evil come from? An evil person is certain he's right, that he is deserving, and he takes satisfaction in hurting others. Evil is normalized in many places. For some people, it's even part of their personality. So much so that you can encounter evil in cultured placed. What's absurd is that some people don't even notice their own evil, which has become socially normal.
"The children who have their hair cut [at Meron] are the precise symbol of the tragedy in my eyes. A symbol of the innocence of a person of faith, who wants to remain a child forever, clean and innocent. In that moment of ending, when the soul blossoms, with the Rashbi's bonfire and the Toldot Aharon dancing in the background, I want to believe that all the victims were like the children having their hair cut, innocent. And for us, maybe, that terrible death symbolizes the innocence that has been lost to the world and the human wisdom that is so lacking.
"Time is God's whip and I notice that it passes quickly. Given the events, we can never know when we're at the end. I still believe that being human is the biggest success a person can ask out of life."
