Pink Lady

The subject of married gay men struggling with their sexuality in ultra-religious settings is not a new one to cinema. Among others, Jayro Bustamente’s Tremors explored the fallout in an evangelical setting and Haim Tabakman showed it playing out against an ultra-Orthodox Jewish backdrop in Eyes Wide Open.

Screenwriter Mindi Ehrlich, who drew on her own experiences within the Hasidic Jewish community for the film, brings a freshness to the subject by focusing on the female perspective of events - meaning it is a close cousin to the Morrocan-set and similarly themed Blue Caftan. It means that this is not just a film tackling the difficulties faced by a gay man to live his own truth in an environment that strictly controls everything, including sex, but also a story of female self-discovery and emancipation.

Bati (Nur Fibak) and Lazer (Uri Blufarb) appear to have a strong marriage. Their conversations are filled with warmth and their love for their children is evident. Life, for them, revolves around family and they also adhere strongly to the tenets of their faith. This includes the complex rules around menstruation and sex - which are presented in a demystifying fashion by Ehrlich. Essentially, following her period, Bati like the other women in her community, must undergo ritual bathing, in a special supervised rainwater bath known as a mikveh, in order to be purified for the “magical night” when sex with her husband will resume. The night in question, however, proves to be less than cosmic.

When one day a grubby envelope arrives at their house with a blackmail note and photos showing Lazer in a compromising situation with another man, the family’s world tilts on its axis. The sexuality element of this is a problem, of course, but perhaps worse still is the threat of the secret being revealed to the entire community if they can’t find the cash that is owed. Pink Lady, unfussily directed by veteran director Nir Bergman (In Treatment), brings home the enormous tragedy of the situation for both Bati and Lazer as they desperately try to save their marriage. While the script offers an unusual perspective, Bergman too often makes interesting choices about the way conversations between Bati and Lazer are staged, with one playing out in silhouette and another as they talk without facing one another.

Lazer starts a course with a Rabbi aimed at ‘straightening him out’, while Bati tries to find ways to make herself more attractive so that she can please him. It’s through the course of this that she begins to realise that not everything in life has to be done to please a man. In many ways, it’s the hopefulness at the heart of their tragedy that really kills you. This is a serious subject and the grief and turbulence being experienced by Bati and Lazer is palpable, with violence also entering the equation from those who view Lazer’s urges as an abnormality. But Ehrlich shows a lightness of touch in the characters she crafts at the edges of the couple’s lives. The pair’s mothers are a hoot and Natalie (Gal Malke), a more worldly woman that Bati meets at the mikveh, also adds a comedic element.

Fibak puts in a vanity-free performance at the film’s heart. A natural beauty, she brings Bati’s inner strength to the fore, blossoming through the course of events as she gradually gains confidence in her own desires. Ehrlich’s script, meanwhile, allows things to remain complex. In her world it is possible for Lazer and Bati to love each other but for that love also not to be all conquering. Ultimately, it is less about acceptance of the rules than acceptance of themselves.