Read full article on the magazine: https://fridayclubmag.com/the-subtle-power-of-shaylee-atary-single-light/
Disclaimer: Single Light deals with themes of sexual assault, which may be distressing for some readers. This review discusses these elements in relation to the film’s narrative.
Image courtesy of Omer Weiss
Some films entertain, and then there are those that linger in your soul long after the credits roll. Shaylee Atary’s ‘Single Light’ firmly belongs to the latter, and we were privileged to view it this month alongside its Hong Kong screening. In a masterstroke of storytelling that is both restrained and profound, Atary explores trauma with rare grace – acknowledging the horror without exploiting it, the pain without exaggeration. This is a film that doesn’t just tell you about trauma; it immerses you in its quiet, stifling presence, making you feel as though you’re experiencing it alongside the protagonist, Lali.
The film opens in a Tel Aviv parking lot, where a single streetlight illuminates Lali – played by the remarkable Yael Elkana – in a moment that will change her life forever. This streetlight is no ordinary fixture; it becomes a silent witness to Lali’s anguish, and its presence haunts her journey as both a symbol of torment and, eventually, strength. During the assault, Lali is transfixed by the streetlight, caught in a state of paralysis as the light seems to both expose and isolate her. The recurring motif of this streetlight is layered with meaning, and each time it returns, it serves as a visual reminder of her past while illuminating the path forward.
Image courtesy of Omer Weiss
Much of the film’s power lies in its subtleties. Atary’s decision to strip away the noise – both literally and figuratively – is a revelation. Here, silence becomes a character of its own, allowing us to feel the oppressive weight of the incident. The quiet is broken only by her occasional singing – a haunting, fragile melody that offers a glimpse into her internal struggle. This balance of silence and sound, of stillness and turmoil, is nothing short of masterful.
While the film is rooted in Lali’s personal experience, it unfolds as a universal story of tenacity. Atary invites us to consider the fragments trauma leaves behind – not through dialogue, but through cinematography and minimalist storytelling. It’s in the way Elkana’s gaze lingers, the tension in her shoulders, the smallest of gestures – all choreographed with an authenticity that resonates deeply. By the end, we’re left with a quiet sense of catharsis, having shared in Lali’s journey toward reclaiming herself.
Image courtesy of Omer Weiss
‘Single Light’ is a significant work, one that challenges the portrayal of trauma in cinema. Atary has crafted something rare and necessary – a story that doesn’t sensationalise but instead creates space for empathy. This is a film that deserves to be seen, not only for its artistry but for the conversation it fosters.