Sometimes there are films that intervene in the present with such force and urgency that everything you would otherwise see in the cinema briefly seems meaningless. “Naza” is one of those films. The Israeli directors Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor present their second documentary work about the Middle East conflict and the relationship between Israel and the Palestinians. Its predecessor, “No Other Land,” which was created together with the Palestinian filmmakers Basel Adra and Hamdan Ballal, first caused a scandal at the Berlinale and then won an Oscar. It was about the occupation and destruction of a village in the West Bank and the systemic inequality between directors Abraham and Adra.
“Naza” now looks behind the scenes of Israel’s warfare against Hamas and the civilian population in Gaza since the massacre of October 7, 2023. They thus provide an important addition to all the reports and recordings that are already circulating online from the war zone. Your accusation has nothing to do with relativizing the suffering that was also inflicted on people in Israel. It was shot secretly in Tel Aviv over several years. Over the rooftops of the city, Yuval Abraham meets 24 anonymous intelligence officers and soldiers at night. These give him detailed insights into the technology and methods with which the armed forces eliminate terrorists and civilians alike and reduce entire streets in the Gaza Strip to rubble.
The reports about the actions of the Israeli secret service and military in Gaza are shocking, but “Naza” is also outstanding in terms of form and aesthetics.
The title “Naza” is explained early on. This is a clause and abbreviation used to quantify collateral damage to the civilian population. A human life, whether man, woman or child, becomes a Naza. Language becomes a tool of distance, dehumanization and abstraction. Just like the whole film is about abstraction and a media decoupling from the real and concrete. This document and testimony, divided into several chapters, lasts 80 disturbing minutes. His original tones are so horrifying in their hardened sobriety, but also in the few doubts and self-questioning that they cannot be shaken off so quickly. “It’s like a video game,” says one of the interviewees – and that’s just one shocking moment, one haunting quote of many.
A focus of “Naza” is how attack planning is supported by an AI system and algorithm. As the film tells it, the tactics of war and killing are permeated by automated processes. Just when it comes to individual signals and terms in monitored chats. That’s apparently how war works today. The film then asks, among other things, the question: Is it better to let an artificial intelligence decide on victims than a person who may have lost a relative? And what does “better” even mean in this context? The rationalization of war is dissected here in all its cynicism.
Pure technology, no morals?
The conversations describe how you can overview digital maps and then, with a few clicks, see who you are targeting and what the respective value is on the Naza scale. Some of the descriptions and experiences are illustrated with sketches on paper, but what is this scribble supposed to tell? All that is being done is to further alienate crimes that have little to do with the actual suffering. People are transformed into data, a mass that will eventually become almost intangible. The reports from “Naza” are also disturbing because, if one can believe the anonymous protagonists and sources, they collapse all the talk about the supposedly tragic inevitability of the victims.
Even if Hamas hides behind civilians, the insights provided by those involved also demonstrate targeted murder, deterrence and escalation. Ultimately it’s about whether you shoot and bomb or not. It’s about a tough balancing of human lives and political goals. The mission and following orders seem to come above all else. A protagonist once describes his work as purely technical in nature. No room for moral objections, questions and the like. Towards the end, the film plays an older original sound from President Benjamin Netanyahu in which he explains his definition of terror. And after everything the 24 interviewees say about the destruction and expulsion, there seems to be little difference to the ongoing crackdown.
More journalism than cinema?
What is going on with those involved? “Naza” tells of overwhelmed feelings in the aftermath of the October 7 terrorist attacks. These traumatic experiences run deep and the film also addresses this. But he also looks for the turning points where revenge and resistance are blurred, where collective guilt is projected and the eradication of others is supposed to bring a twisted satisfaction or even a kick. Especially with the playful character of war technology already indicated! And what is it like when you can witness the last seconds of people’s lives live from a safe distance? When you can essentially play God or feel like a god, as suggested here?
After the world premiere in competition at the Venice Film Festival, where it set a new all-time record for festival applause with a 24.5-minute standing ovation, skepticism could be heard in some reviews and comments. Some people wanted to place the film more in the corner of journalism and less in that of art or artistic documentary film. In fact, the roots of “Naza” lie in journalism. It is based on research and articles, including from +972 Magazine and the British The Guardian, which co-produced the film. And in fact, this is first and foremost an investigative research and interview cinema. But it follows an actually brilliant and highly impressive formal concept.
Spooky everyday life in Tel Aviv
Apart from a few archive images, “Naza” largely consists of nighttime shots of Tel Aviv. The film makes an irritating overlay here. On the soundtrack you can hear the interviews, reports of the worst violence. In addition, ordinary everyday life is shown as a contrast. Around 60 kilometers from Gaza. People party, watch TV, sit on the balcony or lie in bed with their smartphone. It’s a creepy, voyeuristic camera that captures life. She looks through windows, at high-rise buildings, neon signs or the traffic that suddenly comes to a standstill on Holocaust Remembrance Day. Sirens wail, people look around in fear. This permanent state of emergency is also part of it.
At the beginning of the film you can see rockets fired from Gaza into Israel glowing in the sky. These are images of a normality that is always charged with its downside. But also with a fundamentally destructive human potential. The interviewees themselves repeatedly appear as ghostly and symbolic silhouettes in front of the city skyline. And the recorded TV reports and political speeches, with their glorification and trivialization, hardly do justice to what is possibly being done in real life. Ultimately, what is distant is visualized explicitly and drastically, and then images of devastation, crushed corpses and suffering people break into the film’s montage. One can argue about whether “Naza” doesn’t betray its own concept to some extent. But perhaps the brutality of such images is needed as a counterpoint to the almost bureaucratic, abstract craft of war that is previously explored through language.
Conclusion: “Naza” is one of the most outstanding documentaries in cinema history. As difficult as the depictions of violence are to bear, everyone should see it. Simply because this is not just a film about Israel and Gaza, but also one about the cynical techniques of killing in the 21st century. A shocking masterpiece.
We saw “Naza” at the Venice Film Festival, where it had its world premiere as part of the official competition.