Fast Food for Thought

If someone were to make a “mockumusical” about 9/11, it might be called Fiddler on the Roof of the World Trade Center. Complete with singing terrorists, dancing firemen and pirouetting twin towers, its soundtrack would feature songs like “I Only Joined Al Qaeda for the Free Flight to New York City.” The revolted general public would scream,“It’s too soon!” and the show would close in a week.

If someone were to make a mockumusical about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, it would be called West Bank Story and feature lyrics like “We’re gonna build it. We’re gonna build the wall. We’re gonna build it. We’re gonna build it tall.” There would be a dancing menorah, a singing gay Palestinian, a tap-dancing Hasid and star-crossed lovers who meet at an Israeli checkpoint.

As it turns out, the young American director Ari Sandel has not only made such a mockumusical; he’s won an Oscar for it. The American Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences named West Bank Story, a 21-minute extravaganza that features that song about the wall, the Best Live-Action Short Film of 2006.

The acclaim is deserved. Not only do Sandel and cowriter Kim Ray manage to maintain balance in their stereotypes of Arab and Israeli extremists; they’ve made it entertaining enough to win over people who, like me, hate musicals. They succeed by never permitting a serious moment, despite their all-too-serious theme: Palestinians’ and Israelis’ inability to recognize the folly of their prejudices.

The plot is simple: Two fast-food falafel restaurants in an unidentified West Bank town battle for the hearts and stomachs of their customers. The Palestinians at Hummus Hut hate the Israelis at Kosher King because their falafel-making machine encroaches on Hummus Hut (Palestinian) territory. After a Hummus Hut employee throws a rock (symbolism alert!) into the machine and breaks it, the Kosher Kings vow to build a wall around the Hummus Hut “so high not even God will be able to see your side!”

Performing finger-snapping, loosely choreographed dance moves in ridiculous outfits—the white and blue hats of the Kosher King staff are topped with falafel on pita, while the employees of the Hummus Hut sport green caps with antler-like kebab skewers—the two sides face off. As the wall-building Israelis sing, “We’re gonna build it. We’re gonna build the wall,” the Palestinians make Molotov cocktails and sing, “We’re gonna burn it. We’re gonna burn it down.”

Amid flying rocks and chickpeas, and in the spirit of Romeo and Juliet, Fatima, the Hut’s stunning Palestinian cashier, and David, a handsome Israeli soldier whose relative runs Kosher King, can’t help but notice each other. David daydreams about Fatima as she sweeps sand in front of her brother’s restaurant, while Fatima looks on sweetly as David checks the identification papers of her fellow Palestinians. In a West Side Story–style duet, Fatima belts, “I know the punishment would be severe, shame for my family is what I fear,” while David croons, “I know my family would never approve, but I wish I could make her my boo.”

He gets his chance when a fellow soldier mistakes Fatima’s bag of “hummus” for a bag of “Hamas” at a checkpoint. David gallantly steps in and saves her. That evening, in an ironic (nay, symbolic!) role reversal, he throws a rock at Fatima’s window to get her attention and then courts her from below.

As the two youngsters fall in love, their families’ food fight escalates. While making Molotovs, the Palestinians accidentally set fire to Hummus Hut, much to the delight of Kosher King’s owners. The Palestinians are miserable, but their misery turns to ecstasy when Kosher King, too, catches fire. Distracted by their schadenfreude, the inferno engulfs them both.

In the end, love conquers all. Fatima and David step in to save the day by pointing out that the people of the West Bank still need their falafel, and can only get it if the two rival restaurants pool their remaining resources. A long line of hungry Orthodox Jews and veiled Palestinian women promptly materializes to make the point, and the young lovers embrace.

Ridiculous? Yes. But the film is conscious of its ridiculousness, and the audience, too, is in on the joke. No filmmaker can presume to offer a solution to an ancient conflict that has killed thousands and angered millions. But if anyone is going to promote Middle East peace in just 21 minutes, he might as well do it with a singing gay Palestinian, a tap-dancing Hasid and enough hummus to spread on both sides of the Green Line.—Shaun Raviv