Footnote is at once the story of competition between father and son but also one about the inclusive and the exclusive. A number of Israeli films that deal with the latter topic, set their story in the past or present shortly before or after the Holocaust. However, Footnote pits Eliezer Shkolnik and his son Uriel Shkolnik, two rival professors in Talmudic Studies, in the chaotic world of academia, wherein Uriel prolifically publishes and garners awards for his work in the field – work that veers farther from historical analysis and closer to pop-culture-driven interests, according to his father.
On the other hand, Eliezer is – as the title suggests – a footnote in the history of academic pursuits. As a philologist, he spent nearly thirty years of his life examining linguistic differences between original Talmudic documents and those reprinted for contemporary culture. Unfortunately, as happens a number of times in academia, his studies take too long, and he is beat to the punch by another rival professor who stumbles upon the missing link between past and present manuscripts that Eliezer was trying to prove exists. Here, a conflict arises in that, it is mentioned briefly, we’re not sure if the other professor intentionally sabotaged Eliezer or if it was just dumb luck. But this is a rather nominal part of the film.
While there is plenty to talk about in terms of tenure and value in education, the bulk of Footnote focuses on the irony inherent in trying to explore the immense Jewish history while actively enacting exclusionary processes that run contradictory to the most aberrant part of their history. In effect, Footnote is a movie about the Holocaust – without being set in the Holocaust. Rather, the infamous numbers tattooed on the arms of victims (Eliezer’s parents included) are replaced with wristbands denoting who should be admitted to certain conferences and who shouldn’t.
A bitingly melancholy scene occurs shortly after the movie begins: Uriel accepts another award; the camera focuses on Eliezer; Uriel’s voice covers the scene, but we watch Uriel fidget; his face tightens; his brow folds and his grits his teeth, trying to mask their movement behind pursed lips. When the speech ends, Eliezer goes outside for air, but is initially refused re-entry because he was not given a blue wrist band. The beefy guard at the door interrogates him, asking for his name and proof of employment at the university. This scene might be bit too melodramatic, but the metaphor is clear, and Eliezer is not permitted to re-enter until a more recognized professor vouches for him.
In the same way, Eliezer is passed over for the Israel Prize for sixteen years in a row. The prize is the most coveted in Israeli academics and is awarded for the most profound scholarly work each year. However, because Eliezer’s work ultimately arrives in a second place finish, he has never won. This all changes – sort of – when Professor Shkolnik receives a call to tell him that he has won. But, as all good comedies do, there is a case of mistaken identity: Eliezer receives the call that Uriel was supposed to.
I’m giving nothing away here in that this information is given in each of Footnote’s previews, but the confrontations that ensure between Uriel and Eliezer are revealing about academics, the self, competition, and contradiction.
To his credit, Uriel does not want to destroy his father, a man whose very being has changed since learning that he was won the award – for better and worse. We learn that Eliezer knows what has happened, but we also know that people will do what they need to in order to survive in a cutthroat environment. What’s most strange is that this award – symbolically – brings Eliezer into the circle of presently esteemed faculty, though his work hasn’t moved beyond one point in thirty years. Eliezer himself is emblematic of an unchanging history and, by result, a vacated present.
Certainly, his condemnation of pop-culture scholarship is appropriate and accurate, but it’s also symbolic of his refusal to adapt in a world around him that is ever-changing. It’s also a beacon of cognizance in a profession where we overhear laments over “the destruction of Jewish history,” but see the history itself simultaneously being reinterpreted and relived in a bubble where “If you’re not on the same page [in the department as Uriel] you’ll find yourself out of the department.” His avuncular demeanor slightly defies this rhetoric, but Uriel carries influence, and as he goes with scholarship, it seems, so goes scholarship.
