Lemon Tree is an allegory of Israeli-Palestinian relations, and as such is loaded with symbolism.
There’s a certain type of nobility granted to those who pursue causes which are both absolutely righteous and absolutely lost. Salma Zidane (Hiam Abbass) is the embodiment of this nobility in the Israeli film Lemon Tree (Etz Limon): She’s a Palestinian widow who ekes out a living from the lemon grove owned by her family for 50 years. That is, until the Israeli defense minister (Doron Tavory) moves in next door, and the grove is considered a potential security threat. An official letter in Hebrew, which Salma can neither read nor speak, informs her that the trees will be destroyed. She declines to be a passive victim and hires a lawyer (Ali Suliman) to argue her case, which eventually reaches the Israeli Supreme Court.
Lemon Tree is an allegory of Israeli-Palestinian relations, and as such is loaded with symbolism. The defense minister’s first name is Israel, and he treats his wife Mira (Rona Lipaz-Michael) much as he does the Palestinian cause, failing to recognize her humanity or even her right to exist as an independent human being. Their marriage is barren (the plot hints that Mira is grieving a child which either died or was never born), and she suspects her husband has taken a lover. Her situation has become that of a bird in a gilded cage who is trotted out for state occasions but stifled if she expresses a thought of her own. Mira comes to recognize the similarity between herself and Salma and hesitatingly tries to bridge the gulf between them, but is ultimately unwilling to risk her privileged existence.
Another allegorical moment: Shortly after an Israeli attorney has denounced the lemon grove as neglected (not surprising, since the Israelis erected a wall around it and chased Salma and her elderly neighbor away when they tried to tend the trees) and the fruit as foul, the defense minister holds a garden party. But the caterers forgot to bring the lemons, so they help themselves to some from the grove growing so conveniently nearby, and no one on the Israeli side of the fence seems to understand how offensive that is. Later that evening, an apparent explosion nearby brings Israeli soldiers into Salma’s modest home where, although discovering no terrorists hiding within, they manage to leave a remarkable amount of destruction in their wake. As Mira says in a newspaper interview before her husband forces her to retract it, there are simply no limits placed on Israeli behavior, at least not as long as "security" can be invoked as an explanation.
It’s worth seen Lemon Tree simply for the performance of Hiam Abbass, who is magnificent in her dignity and determination. She was also excellent in The Syrian Bride (2004) and The Visitor (2007), but Lemon Tree is her finest effort to date. I wonder about the effect of such films, however: It can be cathartic to empathize with the downtrodden for a few hours when you have all the privileges of the ruling class to return to. And being a symbol of suffering humanity is not quite the same thing as being a free and equal human being: replacing the magic Negro stereotype beloved of American filmmakers with that of a noble Palestinian is not exactly progress. On the other hand, the script for Lemon Tree was co-written by the Israeli Eran Riklis (who also directed) and the Palestinian-Israeli Suha Arraf, the same pair which wrote the script for The Syrian Bride, so perhaps it is indicative of a new era of cooperation between the cultures. | Sarah Boslaugh

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