Jellyfish filmma kers Etgar Keret and his wife Shira Geffen.

Israeli writer Etgar Keret has made an auspicious directing debut with Jellyfish - it won the Golden Camera prize at Cannes - a triptych about three very different women in Tel Aviv. In intertwined vignettes, the film’s three female protagonists - a wedding waitress, a Filipino domestic, and a bride - find their true selves through the help of strangers. Keret spoke with Bay Times about his film, identity and reality.

(Bay Times) You are a short story author. How and why did you decide to become a filmmaker?

(Keret) I always loved films, but I didn’t think I would direct one - and certainly not a film I didn’t write. But my wife wrote this beautiful screenplay, and when she sent it out, nobody wanted to do it. I thought they misread it. So I said, “We don’t need anyone, we’ll do it ourselves!” My wife said, “You don’t know how to direct a film!” But we just rolled into it. My strongest ambition wasn’t to direct the film, but to do it so I can see it. When I write short stories, I have this feeling I read a story as it is being written. I have this passion when I write - a yearning to see it complete.

There are themes of identity, linking all the women who overlap but don’t really intersect. How did you conceive of the structure of the film both narratively and visually?

We thought from the beginning that the characters each play an emotion and not a complete human. We created a big collective soul. I thought there were many ideas of connecting them together. They tell a story together, not because they know each other. They start at the wedding and end at the sea. But they are next to each other because they project and reflect something emotionally.

How do you craft your characters?

When I write, I can’t do a character I don’t feel empathy for or identify with. The same is true with directing. When the bride was saying “I’m selfish, spoiled,” I can’t connect with that. When she is sensitive, then I can work with it. 

There is some terrific magical realism in the film and in your writing. How do you incorporate this in your work?

I really think that when you write or make films, you try to show how you experience reality. I don’t experience it as realism, which is objective, and something people agree on. The moment you accept subjectiveness, it transcends realism - falling in love is like flying in the air. These experiences happen, and you check them against reality, and they are actually much more relevant than reality. It is a way to describe the world I live in.

Jellyfish is about communication. The bride can’t get anyone’s attention in the bathroom, and injures herself. She also has trouble connecting with her husband; the Filipino domestic refuses to learn Hebrew because she does not want to believe she will stay in Israel; the waitress cannot find a way to talk to her mother, her father, or even her boyfriend.  What do you think causes people to be so afraid to relate to others?

I think it’s not so much afraid as they find it difficult. These people can connect, but through a mediator. The woman hugs her daughter through the Filipino; the girl connects to her family through the past, and the bride through another woman. It says something about you, me, and the world we live in. You see the presentation of live and the complex, rational world of heightened awareness and it’s difficult to be in front of a person. It is like a New York cop who is fat and eats a donut. He is playing a part. You need something that catches you off guard so you are authentic. The characters are in the moment when something disturbs them.

There is a considerable amount of wistful irony in the film. How does your quirky sense of humor shape your work?

I think that if you have a sadness in you and you want to talk about it you must have humor, or you will be completely pathetic. When you talk about your vulnerability, humor is your armor. It would be schmaltzy.

Water imagery is particularly important in the film. What, if anything, did you intend for it represent?

It represents the subconscious, in a Jungian kind of way. Things can emerge from it, and you can get submerged in. There is always this wall between rationality and subconscious. I don’t think we consciously dealt with the symbolism.

You make several shrewd observations about marriage/weddings. You made Jellyfish with your wife? Did this have an impact on your marriage?

I think the film represented our marriage. It was a way for the both of us to talk about our feelings and show our fears and problems. It was almost like couples therapy - arguing about the film and what our relationships really are.