REVIEW: قصص غير محكية من غزة من المسافة صفر [From Ground Zero] [2025]

Rating: NR | Runtime: 112 minutes
Release Date: January 3rd, 2025 (USA)
Studio: Watermelon Pictures
Creator: Rashid Masharawi
Director(s): Aws Al-Banna, Ahmed Al-Danf, Basil Al-Maqousi, Mustafa Al-Nabih, Muhammad Alshareef, Ala Ayob, Bashar Al Balbisi, Alaa Damo, Awad Hana, Ahmad Hassunah, Mustafa Kallab, Satoum Kareem, Mahdi Karera, Rabab Khamees, Khamees Masharawi, Wissam Moussa, Tamer Najm, Abu Hasna Nidaa, Damo Nidal, Mahmoud Reema, Etimad Weshah, Islam Al Zrieai

I don’t want them to gather my pieces.

Twenty-two short films about survival, oppression, dignity, fear, and hope make-up From Ground Zero‘s first-hand account of life in Gaza amidst Israel’s current attempt to destroy all trace of Palestinian life. Created by Rashid Masharawi, a selection committee went through each pitched idea to curate the artists chosen before also working with them to ensure the integrity of the production and fulfillment of the mission. Most are non-fiction documentary/testimonials (the most effective of the bunch) with some live-action and animated pieces mixed in. No matter your opinion on the success of each, however, the whole is an undeniable document of an unspeakable tragedy. As a puppet declares during “Awakening”: everything is gone and the world just watched.

My favorite of the bunch is probably “Taxi Wanissa” because of Etimad Washah’s honesty about her struggle to make it during a time of impossible uncertainty. What starts as a fictional drama set amidst the destruction that follows a “taxi” driver ferrying citizens around on a donkey cart abruptly cuts to black before the filmmaker appears to explain why she couldn’t finish. Her words epitomize the situation with devastating clarity because creating art in a time of war isn’t just a physically daunting task, but also an emotionally draining one. When you’re constantly forced to endure these horrors, the line between catharsis and masochism all but disappears. Because these films aren’t being made with hindsight. They are depicting an ongoing nightmare in real-time.

And no one can escape that reality. Not the woman stretching one five-gallon container of water in “Recycling” to fulfill the all-in-one needs of hydration, dish washing, bathing, and sanitation. Not the young lovers in “Jad and Natalię” who can’t know if putting off their engagement might ensure it never happens. Not an artist in “Out of Frame” who watched as the university meant to platform her career was bombed and then her entire portfolio erased once her home met the same fate. Not even the children in “Soft Skin” who must grapple with the heartbreaking purpose behind their mothers writing their names on each of their limbs. Not when “24 Hours” tells the fate of a man who survived three attacks in one day—two of which left him completely buried under rubble and in need of rescue.

It’s tough for the fictionalizations to compete with such pain and suffering even though they come from the same place. Something about their polish and artifice takes us out of the moment the rest creates. I don’t blame them—they’re probably quite good when removed from the whole. It’s the juxtaposition that does them no favors because nothing can compete with reality. The same can be said about the more hopeful vignettes like “No” and “All is Fine” to a lesser extent too. I love their message and their subject’s strength to fight the good fight to keep victims laughing, but it’s a hard sell amidst so much violence. It’s easy to dismiss them as being naïve despite knowing that’s not the case. Switching your brain from PTSD flashbacks in “Echo” and body bag sleeping bags in “Hell’s Heaven” to joyous larks is tough.

There is necessity to it, though, because this project needs an injection of that resolve to truly become the well-rounded experiential work it is. Despite wanting to make sure the world witnesses the atrocities too many continue to ignore, you don’t want to also add to the demoralizing futility of those living through it. The beauty of humanity is our ability to survive and bounce back, so you can’t let Palestinians give up faith that this war will end with a return to their land. You can’t let the children raised under a normalization of death and destruction lose hope when art projects, comedy routines, and concerts can coax them back from the edge of despondency in an instant. In many ways, their ability to keep smiling is the most powerful weapon of all.