Key details challenge this conclusion, but Regine wants to believe otherwise, for herself, her family, and for the old man. On a whim, she emigrates to Tel Aviv with her neighbors but quickly has to fend for herself in a bustling and brusque new country. A reunion with a long-lost cousin ends in disappointment, and it seems that Vera will be swallowed up in the hubbub. Then, as if by fate, she crosses paths with the woman we recognize is Rivka, the thread of whose life we pick up once again. It feels like we've come full circle, and to some degree we have.
People find each other.
Or there's hope that they may. Yet Finkiel carefully demonstrates that the circle doesn't neatly close. It's been distorted, misshapen. Their children and grandchildren, who ache to understand, who gamely follow them back to concentration camps, who make movies as empathetic as Voyages , can only travel so far. In the matter of the Holocaust, memory is a passport that cannot be duplicated.