Despite how conventional it is in its film form, Malka remains an unusual documentary as regards its content: the title character, Malka Abraham, was a 20-year-old Jewish woman who arrived in Argentina from Europe in the 1920s under the false promise of a bright future. Instead, she was forced into prostitution by the Zwi Migdal, a Jewish organization involved in the trafficking and sexual slavery of Jewish women from Eastern Europe.
Primarily based in Buenos Aires, but with branches in Rio de Janeiro, Sao Paulo, New York, and Warsaw, the Zwi Migdal operated from the 1920s to the late 1930s, with yearly proceeds of 50 million dollars. In the 1920s, it already had over 400 pimps and 2,000 brothels with 30,000 women in Argentina alone.
Like many other women, Malka also suffered the humiliation of being a forced sex worker. But unlike many others, she managed to flee the organization in the 1930s and went to reside in Tucumán, where she kept on doing the only thing she knew how to do: prostitution, yet this time out of her free will.
“How could this be possible? The Jews, those of my religion and my family’s religion, who had to escape Europe to avoid being victims of humiliation and under the risk of being assassinated, these Jews were exploiting women of their own religion,” wondered in astonishment Walter Tejblum, who wrote and directed Malka with the hope of finding out the many facets of such a disgraceful phenomenon.
The story of Malka didn’t end when she arrived in Tucumán. Instead of being reinserted into a normal life, she was criticized and ostracized by the people of Tucumán at large — including the Jewish community. She was disliked to the point of almost not being buried in the Jewish cemetery when she was murdered in her late 50s (the identity of the killer remains unknown). And even when she stated in her will that she wanted her fortune to go to her own community, there was a debate as to whether to accept it or not for it was “dirty money.” Of course, in the end the money went somewhere (though perhaps not all of it to where it was destined to).
From a journalistic and exploratory point of view, Walter Tejblum’s documentary is very valuable in its careful and detailed exposition of the facts, events, episodes around Malka’s story. It does what many of the best documentaries do: it unveils and exposes what has been hidden.
Against all odds, the filmmaker interrogates and raises uneasy questions that most interviewees opt not to answer — which nevertheless means answering the issue is not up for debate. Against the oblivion Malka had been sentenced to, the filmmaker forces her figure to surface. And in so doing, he also draws a portrayal of how hypocrisy, prejudice and discrimination are deeply ingrained in any order of society.
In his quest for finding out the truth, Tejblum finds some unexpected allies who give him essential information as well as honest, heartfelt testimonies. And unlike those who condemned Malka, Tejblum doesn’t really judge them. Better yet: he leaves them exposed to their own. Most important, he vindicates Malka, the black sheep of the family who had been long forgotten. Until now.
