These days, a lot of people proclaim with absolute certainty that they know where God is and what God is doing. They’re positive that, on July 13 of last year, God altered the trajectory of an assassin’s bullet and saved Donald Trump at a rally. The fact that God didn’t see fit to save rally goer Corey Comperatore isn’t commented on much. We’re absolutely sure God is on our side, though there’s significantly less talk about if we’re on His side.

I wonder if God is in Gaza. I’m not sure, but I know with absolute metaphysical certainty that miracles have occurred there. A strange thing to say, isn’t it? Particularly considering that war has leveled the city, disease and famine stalk what’s left of the populace, and the smart money is on things getting worse before they get better. With all that in mind, nothing could thrive there beyond suffering, right?

That’s the miraculous part. In the middle of devastation came the anthology film From Ground Zero: Stories From Gaza. It was the brainchild of Palestinian filmmaker Rashid Masharawi, and it’s a mix of twenty-two short films made by people who live within the Gaza strip. To emphasize, these twenty-two directors, along with their casts and crew, prioritized making movies in the midst of a war zone.

Such a thing is possible due to most of the shorts being made on iPhones. A few are shot on film. They range from documentaries to Bollywood-inspired to animation to drama. All of them give an on-the-ground look at conditions in Gaza. We see the ruins of skyscrapers, long lines for pitiful rations, and the frank acknowledgement that some people will never be pulled from the rubble. We get a small but significant sense of what it must feel like to be a targeted noncombatant. It’s an unflinching look at a twenty-first century Hell.

And yet, we also see that with cutting edge technology, people can tell their stories virtually anywhere. Though it’s not without a cost. In Ahmed Hassouna’s “Sorry, Cinema,” we hear the director apologize. He says, “Forgive me, cinema, I must put the camera aside and run with the others.” During the voiceover, we see Hassouna’s POV. He, along with scores of residents, sprint to claim airdropped rations. When small trucks zoom past the runners, many of them slow to a walk. What’s the point?

Each short, in its way, takes a clear-eyed look at the conflict. “Hell’s Heaven,” by Kareem Satoum, follows a man more comfortable sleeping in a body bag than under blankets. “Everything is Fine,” by Nidal Damo, shows a stand-up comedian preparing for his act. He boils water in a battered pot, then “showers” in a narrow stall. In “24 Hours,” by Alaa Damo, we learn the astounding true story of a man trapped under rubble three times in twenty four hours.

As you might imagine, many of the shorts are heartbreaking. “School Day,” by Ahmed Al-Danf, follows the daily schedule of a young boy and ends on a mournful twist. “Out of Frame,” by Neda’a Abu Hasna, introduces us to a young artist picking through the wreckage of her apartment. She finds her sketches and says, “This project was my hope of being recognized at university. But they blew up the university about two weeks ago.” From what I can see, she’s quite a good artist.

There’s also hope. “Soft Skin” by Khamees Masharawi offers a glimpse of an animator teaching a group of children the art form. They utilize cut-up paper images and sync them with the actual audio of a bombing. While these kids are likely massively traumatized and possibly orphaned, their caretaker looks after them and keeps them busy with a project. There’s also the final short, “Awakening,” by Mahdi Karirah, a puppet show that deals with a family in the aftermath of the war. They move on. They do so together.

Are there flaws and technical problems? Sure, but really, who cares? This being an anthology, the reality is that some shorts are better than others. But when I think about who made these shorts, where, and under what conditions, I’m inclined to cut them a massive amount of slack.

If there’s one thing to realize with From Ground Zero, it’s that art lives everywhere. It’s found in refugee tents, in the rubble of buildings, and in body bags. It’s the purest expression of life blazing in the face of death. From Ground Zero: Stories from Gaza is filmmaking that’s electric and absolutely essential. I have no idea if God is in Gaza. But cinema is. 

Tim Brennan Movie Critic

Tim has been alarmingly enthusiastic about movies ever since childhood. He grew up in Boulder and, foolishly, left Colorado to study Communications in Washington State. Making matters worse, he moved to Connecticut after meeting his too-good-for-him wife. Drawn by the Rockies and a mild climate, he triumphantly returned and settled down back in Boulder County. He's written numerous screenplays, loves hiking, and embarrassed himself in front of Samuel L. Jackson. True story.