A young Arab gasps for breath as he tears down the street, his feet pounding rhythmically on the asphalt. Omar, who comes from the downtrodden Jaffa neighbourhood of Ajami, has just witnessed a killing and he is running for his life. It’s early morning, and the streets around Tel Aviv’s Court of Justice are deserted. It’s an apt metaphor; there is no justice here, only a panicked teenager fleeing his own destiny. In his head, Omar hears the soothing voice of his younger brother, telling him to close his eyes and relax. His breath catches as he turns the corner and trips, falling hard on the pavement. “On the count of three you’ll open your eyes,” his brother’s voice promises, “and find yourself in another place.” But in the Middle East, there is no escape from the realities of hatred, violence, and oppression. Omar, who has been involved in a drug deal gone wrong, arrives at the getaway van, only to find it’s locked and he’s trapped. “One ... two ... three. Open your eyes!” his brother’s voice says. On this sombre note, Ajami, a hard-hitting new Israeli movie, draws to an end.

Lebanon, another new Israeli film, evokes a trap of a different nature. It’s June 1982, the morning of the Israeli invasion into Lebanon. A fresh-faced Israeli soldier lowers himself into a tank, shutting the hatch on the outside world for the next 24 hours—and the duration of the 90-minute movie. There is no escape. The soldier, and the audience, are plunged into a claustrophobic world of black grease, metal, and cold fear.

... contd.