Mother of Valour

Retrieval of reproductive cells from war casualties, primarily to ensure the biological continuity of fallen soldiers, is a phenomenon unique to Israel and prominent in its discourse. After the October 7th war, the issue gained urgency, with Israel, already unique in its approach, further loosening its policy and actively encouraging the procedure, even offering it to families upon notifying them of their loss.

In many countries, using harvested reproductive cells from the deceased is legally prohibited. Where permitted, it requires explicit consent from the deceased. In Israel, the law distinguishes between requests from spouses, seen as reliable witnesses to the deceased's wishes, and parents, who file most requests. These cases are decided in court, focusing on whether the procedure aligns with the deceased's intent.

The film is based on a short story by my co-writer Roi Wilner, exploring this phenomenon through concepts from Sarah Cohen-Sabot's The Grotesque Body. In her book, Cohen-Sabot highlights the grotesque as a blurring of life and death. The story examines posthumous reproduction as an example of this and delves into ethical dilemmas, such as a child serving as a living memorial to the deceased or grandparents becoming the primary progenitors instead of the biological parent.

At the heart of the film lies the intersection of two deeply rooted national priorities in Israeli society: commemoration and the promotion of childbirth.

Israel’s culture of commemoration, shaped by its harsh reality and the broader history of the Jewish people, has become a defining feature, reflecting efforts to sustain life in the shadow of death. This intersection raises questions about the future of a society molded by such values—one that honors life only in retrospect or treats it as a state resource. It also challenges the experience of raising children in a culture where sacrifice for the state is a central ideal.

The motivation to create this film changed over time; Initially, it stemmed from a desire to spotlight a niche yet uniquely Israeli phenomenon. This was later reconsidered due to the challenges involved—both the painful subject matter and the logistical difficulties of production. However, the outbreak of war and the subsequent rise in such cases underscored the urgency of telling this story. A pivotal moment came from a marginal comment by Nira Shpak, a former parliament member and survivor of the Kibbutz Kfar Aza massacre, during an interview. She recounted breaking into the kibbutz morgue with a government minister, using diplomatic immunity to instruct medical staff to harvest sperm from the male victims (without consent), for future potential use.

With the topic now more prominent than ever in Israeli discourse, and a reality that has far outstripped anything we could have imagined before the war, creating this film felt more urgent than ever. This urgency was heightened by the superficial treatment the issue often receives in Israeli discussions. The film also reflects our deep concerns about the future of a society shaped by an endless, senseless, and bloody war.