The soldiers delivering this message stand by to make sure he gets the necessary hydration, then program his phone with a reminder every 60 minutes. Take, for example, an earnest suggestion given to Michael Feldmann ( Lior Ashkenazi) after receiving some bad news: drink a glass of water every hour. Instead, pain and humor are complementary forces that overlap and bleed into each other. They're never treated as separate gears to operate. As he charts the impact of a calamitous development, Maoz responds to a full range of human reactions. It's best to let the strange whims of life in the film guide the viewing journey go in as blind as possible. With the absurdist deadpan of Swedish master Roy Andersson, Foxtrot captures a unique look at how young men respond to both the banality and boredom of war, as well as how adults absorb the trauma of death. Just one break in the other direction can produce a wild twist of fate. Maoz, in just his second narrative feature, repeatedly demonstrates the way hilarity and calamity are never far removed from one another. His new film Foxtrot, the stealth sensation of 2017's fall festival season, evinces how these two experiences are not opposites, but rather two sides of the same coin. But for a writer/director like Samuel Maoz, the dichotomy is not so clear-cut. Comedy and tragedy are usually treated as two wildly different emotions – the Golden Globes even consider them so different as to break up their film awards into two tracks on those lines.
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