The Other Widow

There have been movies in which I wished Dana Ivgy weren't quite so deadpan; but here, it was easy to accept her as a woman stunned by the sudden death of her lover. Her emotional distress comes through mostly in moments of dream or fantasy, which include some impressive and imaginative visuals. There isn't a second when she's not on screen (unless I've forgotten), so you feel inclined to identify with her, but because of her behavior it can be a stretch-- which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

The Hebrew title is not "The Other Widow," it's simply "The Mistress." I'd have to agree that "The Mistress" wouldn't have been a great title in English, but "The Other Widow" implies a kind of symmetry between the wife and mistress and I'm not sure the script meant to imply it.

A refreshing female look on a subject which would usually be treated dramatically, and not with a cool head and subtle humour. Some insights were thrown during a talk with the director at Sofia Film Fest, who appeared poised, while simultaneously iterating the film had come from her "guts"; how personal and emotional it had been. It was interesting that she said she had worked on it for nine years, and that it was somewhat autobiographical, while mentioning her "forbidden affair" had not been with a married nor a recently deceased man. In the first of these nine years she already decided to kill the man on screen so we don't have to deal with him: it would be all about the woman's emotions. The "mistress", the other woman, has ostensibly reversed roles with the wife, who appears to be a "femme fatale of film noir" stereotype, the mistress herself being "the girl next door". The wife is all success, coolness and glamour, while the mistress is rather a failure who worshipped her "ingenious" lover, of whom in turn we find he had many girls, preferring the "plain looking" (different from his wife). Nobody except her family has a concern about "the other woman"; her colleagues scold her for attending the dead man's wake, in whatever capacity; and yet she elegantly persists. There's a poignant moment with a dramatic "dress of tears", and a comical climax, but it doesn't take too long for the heroine to cheerfully move along, erasing her "otherness" as a bad dream. However, this doesn't happen before she "owns", be it only in dream, the femme fatale role her theatre director lover had intended for another.