LFF Review: Honeymood (Talya Lavie)

Sometimes there’s nothing like a guitar strumming to set the scene and envisage a sense of humour. Talya Lavie‘s Israeli film, Honeymood, has enough organic wit and woes to already stand tall as one of the very finest black comedies of 2020. If that’s saying anything.

Part of this year’s London Film Festival ‘Laugh’ section, Honeymood signals the comic layer immediately as the bride, with her groom, almost trips over. The newlyweds return to their prestigious hotel suite, and are generally goofing around before they accidentally lock themselves out of the room.

Lavie, who was in London in 2014 with her debut film, Zero Motivation, gives off a whiff of the final chapter of the audacious Wild Tales from the same year. Tensions arise between Eleanor (Avigail Harari) and Noam (Ran Danker) when she finds his mysterious envelope. Okay, perhaps not mystery as opposed to curiosity. Who it is from and what’s inside being the symptoms.

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What director Lavie does so well early on is bring those accepted insecurities and bristly imperfections to the surface of their relationship. She accuses him of cock-blocking by talking about the weather at this awkward time. And through that prickly back and forth of digs and wry truths, Lavie and her terrific twosome cast throw kerosene onto the flames of the matrimonial dynamics.

When Eleanor wants to rekindle the ceremonial bliss with make-believe, Noam comments on why waste a perfectly good glass. The perturbed bride literally puts her foot down on the handkerchief-wrapped glass. How very Jewish of her. Instead of making up, the envelope is opened, revealing a ring from his ex-girlfriend. A recycled envelope, nice touch.

Honeymood then quickly ascends to a street movie in the night of Jerusalem. Accompanied by Don McLean’s “Vincent” and that starry, starry night for a moment, the couple then encounter other folks with problems of their own. Giving the film a nuanced, honest depiction of this spontaneous life we lead, without making it absolutely all about Eleanor and Noam.

The driver of the cab they jump into has his own emotional urgency which crashes the party. They also flag down a road sweeper to retrieve their ring-sucking robot. You read that right. And when the hem of Eleanor’s dress is trapped in the door of the taxi, the hours of wedding attire etiquette are now out the window.

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The same dress (obviously) is ripped when an old acquaintance tries his innocent come-on, claiming he was just immitating a scene from Once Upon a Time in the West with Charles Bronson and Claudia Cardinale. At this stage of the film, Eleanor and Noam, at their wit’s end, are soon physically separated.

Honeymood really stretches its legs around this point, and may well test the patience of the audience. But so resilient is the energetic flow of the film, it’s hard honestly to dwell on any hitch. Pure entertainment wins out. Lavie has a weathered grasp on Eleanor and Noam, and exactly how they might want to let off steam in the absence of their other half.

Meanwhile, the groom is fooled on numerous occasions it seems. The true doubt of loyalty hits when Noam compliments a troubled nurse, instead of locating his bride, because of his willingness to believe the callous lies of a jackass. His coddling parents enter the fray, and Noam gets a sneak peak of his potential future in the wedded arena, as they bicker and make suggestions with so much more tolerance. Remember Olivia Dukakis and Vincent Gardenia in Moonstruck?

Without that kind of support system at hand, Eleanor plows through the Jerusalem night. At one point, she manages to hitch a short ride on a garbage truck. And gets to vent about her new beau with sly pokes while still on a quest to return to him. In the film’s most outlandish set piece, there’s a kind of wistful street performance with the bride and a bunch of smart-casual security guys. Wonderful.

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As Eleanor and Noam, Avigail Harari and Ran Danker make quite the pair. Individually they harbor such relatable quirks and obsessions, but also convince as two people that love each other in spite of bumps in the road. You could almost squint your eyes enough to go back fifty-odd years and see Jack Lemmon and Jane Fonda embroiled in similar frolics.

When they are not halted on their journey by a troublesome filmmaker or a suicidal nurse or the bride’s students, Eleanor and Noam have their immediate fate in their own hands. They just don’t see it right away. And sometimes you just need something else to bring you back together. Like handcuffs, for instance.

The dialogue is snappy and candid, matching the dazzling chemistry of those leads. Come back lines like “I dont have any feelings for him except pity” are tragically funny. And there’s even a classic Nokia ringtone for humor and nostalgia value.

A relationship is built on the flaws as well as the fusion, and this is demonstrated throughout Honeymood. Like the mischievous night itself, the film is a reflective and impressionable venture, for two lovebirds testing that mutual bond. It teeters on the edge of will-they, won’t-they, zig-zagging and smirking at the prospect of a big fat Israeli after party well worth sticking around for.