THE STORY – Amid the late ’80s pop craze and rising HIV epidemic, 12-year-old Boaz uncovers a devastating secret about the father he idolizes that threatens to tear his family apart. Across a yearslong journey, Boaz seeks to heal the wound and reclaim the father-son bond he never stopped yearning for.
THE CAST – Yair Mazor, Ido Tako, Assi Cohen, Keren Tzur, Mor Dimri & Neta Orbach
THE TEAM – Moshe Rosenthal (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 109 Minutes
In the world of queer cinema, there are many films about the HIV/AIDS epidemic. And understandably so; it was a devastating tragedy fueled by and highlighting the intense homophobia of uncaring governments that were more than happy to let those they disapproved of simply die off. For millions, it was a death sentence. For those in power, it was convenient. Given just how many movies have explored the time period when the virus and subsequent syndrome were at their most virulent – the 1980s and 90s – it’s surprising that “Tell Me Everything,” the new film from writer-director Moshe Rosenthal, manages to find a new angle to this type of story. While the concept is refreshing and appropriately upsetting, it ultimately struggles to coalesce into a fully-formed story worthy of feature-length treatment.
The film centers around Boaz, who we first meet as a young boy (Yair Mazor) in 1987, preparing for his bar mitzvah. One day, after swimming at the local pool with his dad, Meir (Assi Cohen), he accidentally witnesses his father having an intimate encounter with another man, which immediately sends Boaz into a panic. This being the late 80s, when homophobic panic and rumors about HIV/AIDS were everywhere, Boaz immediately assumes his father must be infected. In the way that Boaz jumps to this conclusion, Rosenthal makes an admirable point about the dangers of a bigoted society’s reaction and the way that it can influence the impressionable, especially children. After all, to this day, mistruths about HIV and STI infections in general persist, even among otherwise rational adults.
The film eventually jumps to 1996, with Boaz now played by Ido Tako. The fallout of the revelation about his father continues to affect both Boaz and his family. Boaz finds himself as the primary provider for his mother, Bella (Keren Tzur), and he can’t stop obsessing over trying to find out more about his father’s current life. Like so many young men, he’s confused and aimless, with the added problem of feeling constantly upset and confused by his atypical family situation.
At the film’s start, Mazor plays the younger Boaz with a compelling energy of playfulness, which decidedly contrasts with the at-first frozen and then panicked reaction he has to discovering his father’s truth. Mazor’s performance and Rosenthal’s effectively manic filmmaking choices immediately following this dramatic turn help transport the audience to Boaz’s frightened headspace as he spirals about not only his father’s health, but that of himself and his family. Tako is a bit more one-note in his portrayal of the older Boaz, not finding much dimension in the confused young man’s emotional journey other than, well, confusion. Rounding out the family are a pair of fun, heartfelt performances by Mor Dimri and Neta Orbach as Boaz’s older sisters, along with Tzur’s stunning, impactful work as Boaz’s mother. And Cohen makes for a gregarious, charismatic father. It’s easy to see why Boaz was so attached to him, as the film spotlights his willingness to play with and care for his children more than most fathers might.
Rosenthal constructs a visually dynamic world, with colorful period-appropriate lighting that helps transport audiences to 1987. And in the 1996 half of the story, he shoots the many nighttime scenes with a welcome emphasis on clarity and mood, once again using lighting to bring audiences into the character’s head. Here, he makes viewers feel as uncertain yet intrigued as Boaz does about the unknown world that he explores in his quest for closure. And as we delve further into the linear timeline of Boaz’s life, snippets of his childhood are smartly interspersed in the edit when Rosenthal wants to draw an appropriate thematic parallel. Gael Rakotondrabe’s musical score is heavy on saxophone and synth, and along with the visuals, does equal work in conjuring up a cool, alluring tone.
But as the film winds toward its end, it becomes clear that it is more interested in simply telling its story than in deeply investigating what its characters are doing and have done. The film feels strangely surface-level, delving into the “what” of what’s happening, but clearly less compelled to look into the “why” or, even more interestingly, the “what now?” Its conclusion is strangely neat and tidy for such a thorny, complicated story.
“Tell Me Everything” doesn’t completely live up to its title with its half-baked examination of a complicated subject. Although Rosenthal shows excellent stylistic instincts, his storytelling abilities aren’t as sharply defined, at least in this effort. Still, there’s always something refreshing about a film that manages to approach an oft-told story in an unexpected way.
