They are called "traitors" and threatened with revoked passports, according to representatives of Benjamin Netanyahu's government. The crime? Journalists and filmmakers Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor have made a documentary in which a long line of representatives from elite units within the Israeli military testify to a, to say the least, cynical and instrumental view of civilian victims in the war in Gaza.
The duo behind the Oscar-winning "No other land" - about occupation and military violence in the West Bank - have this time moved the focus into the heart of their home country. "Naza" takes place in modern Tel Aviv. There is a kind of eternal night where the moonlight illuminates shiny skyscrapers. Inside the coldly lit rooms, the city's residents move about, hang out on the TV sofas, watch the news, eat dinner. But the drone-controlled cameras also make detours for night-time construction workers who diligently erect new high-rise buildings.
The title of the documentary indicates the type of reader. "Naza" is the Hebrew abbreviation for collateral damage, according to the film a measure to calculate how many civilians are at risk of being killed in order to be able to hit a given target within Hamas.
How is it done? This is what the anonymized soldiers and agents from the Israeli intelligence service who chose to stand in front of the director duo's cameras on various rooftops in Tel Aviv under cover of the darkness of the night.
These are deeply shocking stories that hurt right to the core. That a modern war is fought in front of keyboards and illuminated screens is of course no surprise. But "Naza" makes the inhuman distance so heartbreakingly clear. The men's, and some women's, testimonies about mobile phone jamming, surveillance and mapping of homes bring you so close to the technology and the considerations that in turn meant so many dead children, women and men in Gaza.
The symbol-laden and evocative staging is tight while being impressively visually strong. The houses that are raised floor by floor are set against all that has been demolished and continues to be demolished six miles away. Even if the film only lands in the bombed-out Gaza in the last minutes, the whole set-up is telling.
Yuval Abraham's low-key questions to his interview victims resemble a strange therapy situation. Few in the strife of witnesses reveal much emotion. For example, someone says laconically that it is better for AI to point out targets than "someone whose friend was killed in the October 7 attack".
But overall, the entire collective seems extremely taken by the extreme situation, which says more than many words. Here are testimonies about hacking and wiretapping of, among other things, children's phones. There are also descriptions of a systematic collection of code sentences such as "Where is dad?", which can lead to an entire property in Gaza being bombed to pieces.
In the film, a particular discrepancy arises between the digitally anonymized witnesses (no one appears by name) and the detailed description of the technology and the horrific effects it brought to the victims of the war. At this intersection, criticism of the film, above all from Israel's power center, has not unexpectedly been heard.
The solid journalistic construction of "Naza" provides high credibility, and it is not inconceivable that the film will also play a role in the debate when the dust of war has settled and guilt and responsibility must be assessed. But until then, the drama surrounding the film's meeting with the audience and the violent attacks against the films say something important about the freedom of the press and expression which is the foundation of democracy.
