From Ground Zero: Stories from Gaza review – a…

For anyone that has paid even a modicum of attention to the daily images coming out of Palestine, the scenes that make up From Ground Zero will be very familiar. Compiled of 22 shorts, all created since Israel increased their military efforts against Palestine in 2023, this anthology does exactly what the title suggests: it documents the experiences of Palestinians on the ground in Gaza, currently undergoing relentless violence from the Israeli occupation. The images are similar to those shared by Palestinian journalists on social media – young boys assuming the role of men, running to gather scraps of food for their families, mothers wailing in the streets, men digging through the rubble of destroyed buildings with their bare hands, determined to save whoever they can. But interspersed between these scenes of anguish are moments of joy, hope, and resilience.

Produced by legendary Palestinian filmmaker Rashid Masharawi, From Ground Zero joins a long tradition of Palestinian filmmaking that aims to showcase the wide range of stylistic sensibilities possessed by the country’s artists. The result is a patchwork quilt of documentaries, narrative reenactments, and animated films where the messiness of its structure can be forgiven by the urgency of its subject matter. The film opens with ​‘Selfies’ by Reema Mahmoud, a day-in-the-life video where Mahmoud recounts her experience of the 2014 Gaza war, where her father and 17 members of her family were killed in a bombing. She describes ​“the timezone of war” where she spends her days wishing for the escape of the night, and her nights awaiting the relative safety of daylight. ​“Dear unknown friend,” she says, ​“my advice to you: enjoy life. Because life is beautiful and war is ugly.”

The rest of the shorts follow in a similar vein. One uses stop-motion animation as the medium through which children discuss the practice of writing their names on their bodies so that, should they be caught in a bombing, their body parts may be identified and gathered together. Another takes a more experimental approach, blending nightmarish black and white sequences with vivid images of celebration to paint a disorienting picture of loss. As is the case with most anthologies of this size, some of these films feel more realised than others, but how can we truly critique art made under such horrific conditions? The incessant buzzing of drones punctuate almost every short – that these filmmakers could produce anything while enduring an ongoing genocide feels like an incredible feat of cinema. Palestinians may be censored and shunned by Western media, but cinema remains one of the last spaces where they’ve been able to tell their story on their own terms. 

In a better world, a film like this wouldn’t have to exist. These artists would be free to make whatever they desired, completely uninhibited by the need to document the horrors of their current reality. Instead, we’re left to wonder how many of these filmmakers are still with us. In ​‘Sorry Cinema’, award-winning filmmaker Ahmed Hassouna says he has abandoned his dreams of cinema in favour of keeping his children alive. He ends with a heartbreaking plea: ​“Cinema, forgive me.” In reality, it is us who should be begging forgiveness – for our inability to force material change, and the chilling indifference of our cowardly leaders. 

From Ground Zero is a heartbreaking snapshot of an unforgivable moment in history, and as this tapestry of Palestinian life unfolds on our screens, we must heed the call of the artists who made it. Enjoy life, yes, but do something, anything, to ensure that they might enjoy life too.