People gather outside a home destroyed during the attack by Hamas in Kibbutz Be'eri in Israel on Oct. 14, 2023.Leon Neal/Getty Images
On Oct. 7, 2023, two years ago – two years – Noam Tibon received a string of alarming texts from his son. “They are shooting at us,” one said. Another: “There are terrorists in the neighbourhood. I think also in the house.”
Mr. Tibon, a retired Israeli army major-general, told his son: “Stay quiet.”
His son was texting from the safe room at his home on a kibbutz near Gaza where he, his daughters, then aged one and three, and his wife waited silently in complete darkness.
Mr. Tibon and his wife Gali Mir-Tibon got into their car in Tel Aviv and drove to rescue them. “This is the instinct of a father. Of a grandfather. My family is under danger.”
Mr. Tibon speaks these words in the Canadian documentary The Road Between Us: The Ultimate Rescue. The film had its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival after being invited, then disinvited (after filmmaker Barry Avrich was asked, he says, to withdraw – which he refused to do), then reinvited after outcry. As a sold-out crowd shuffled through military-grade security outside Roy Thomson Hall, they were greeted by shouts of “shame” by protesters.
The scene outside Roy Thomson Hall on Sept. 10, 2025, the day The Road Between Us: The Ultimate Rescue premiered at TIFF.COLE BURSTON/AFP/Getty Images
Protesting a film isn’t terrible, but it is telling. What is shameful about grandparents rescuing their family? None of the people protesting the film could have seen it. What was their beef, exactly? That Israelis who were massacred on Oct. 7, 2023, or miraculously survived, were shown to be people worthy of sympathy – or regard?
Two years after these bloody attacks, two years into the catastrophic war that followed, with its tens of thousands of victims, we are at a moment of hope, finally. But this anniversary will forever be seared into history. The horrors of that day will never be forgotten.
The film, which won the People’s Choice Award at TIFF, includes footage of that massacre – blood-soaked floors in homes with bunk beds and baby-bouncer chairs as witness. People being shot point blank. “Brothers, we don’t want hostages, we’ve got a lot already,” someone says in Arabic. “Kill.”
Protest is a pillar of any democratic society. Bring it on. But anger over Israel’s war in Gaza has turned into something else, something ugly – and deadly. It has created an atmosphere where someone might shoot at innocent people outside a Jewish museum in Washington and yell “Free Palestine”; throw flames while yelling “Free Palestine” at a peaceful demonstration in Colorado for the hostages, ultimately killing an 82-year-old woman; or ram a car and begin a stabbing spree outside a synagogue in Manchester on the holiest day of the Jewish calendar.
During Yom Kippur services in Vancouver that same day, with police standing guard, one line from the prayer book really resonated with a rattled congregation. It sought God’s prayers “for the sake of those killed because they were Jews.”
Antisemitism has become rampant in Canada, statistics show. One example: graffiti on a Victoria synagogue this summer admonished “child-killing Jew monsters.”
Israel’s war on Gaza is catastrophic. But targeting Jews – who are not responsible – in Canada, where we have a right to live free from discrimination, like every other minority? That has been shattering.
Director Barry Avrich, left, and producer Mark Selby after winning the 2025 People's Choice Documentary Award for The Road Between Us: The Ultimate Rescue at TIFF.Sammy Kogan/The Canadian Press
The art world has not been immune. I asked Mr. Tibon, Mr. Avrich and producer Mark Selby about navigating the TIFF roller coaster, only to arrive at the theatre to protesters yelling “shame.”
“I believe in peaceful protest, no matter what your side is here,” said Mr. Avrich. “But really what is the point protesting art? If you don’t want to go, don’t go. Don’t buy a ticket.”
Mr. Selby said it seems ridiculous to protest artists. “That’s not going to bring about world peace.”
All three were grateful for TIFF chief executive Cameron Bailey’s apology and overwhelmed with the warm reception, including standing ovations before and after the film. “It spread into my heart,” said Mr. Tibon. “And I felt, you know, this is a victory for the truth.”
A nod to the destruction of Gaza toward the end of the film (which is now in theatres) has not satisfied many critics, who note the lack of crucial context. Mr. Avrich says this isn’t a political film. It’s about a man’s effort to save his family.
Perhaps we are heading, finally, after the two longest years, toward peace. Maybe, finally, this war will end. The killing in Gaza will stop. The hostages can come home. Families can bury their loved ones.
We shall see what the next few days bring. The next few years. So many deaths, so much destruction, so much damage, beyond the physical. These harms will last generations. Today, if you are fortunate enough to be able to, hug your loved ones close.