A Film That Refuses to Let the World Look Away
There’s a quiet audacity in choosing a documentary about Palestinian refugees for the Oscars. Not because it’s political—that’s inevitable—but because it forces a confrontation with the stories we’re told versus the ones we’re allowed to feel. Switzerland’s submission of Who Is Still Alive isn’t just a cinematic gesture; it’s a moral provocation. And that’s what art should do when the world is looking the other way.
Why This Film Matters More Than the Oscars
Let’s get one thing straight: the Oscars are a flawed platform for global stories. Yet here we are, talking about a Swiss film that centers nine Palestinian voices from Gaza, a place more often reduced to headlines about rockets and rubble. What makes this fascinating isn’t the awards race—it’s the audacity of centering humanity in a narrative that most media outlets flatten into a geopolitical chess game. Personally, I think the film’s real victory isn’t its festival accolades but its refusal to let Gaza become a metaphor. These are real people, not symbols.
The Paradox of Switzerland’s Neutrality
Switzerland’s history of neutrality is a double-edged sword. By submitting a film about Palestinian displacement, they’re leveraging their reputation for impartiality to amplify voices that rarely get a global stage. But here’s the irony: neutrality often means silence. So when a Swiss film crew travels to South Africa to interview Gaza refugees—because so few countries will let them in—what does that say about Europe’s moral calculus? From my perspective, this isn’t just a documentary; it’s Switzerland grappling with its own legacy of complicity through inaction.
Storytelling as Resistance
The film’s use of a chalk-drawn map of Gaza isn’t just a stylistic choice—it’s a metaphor. When you erase a place physically, the only way to reclaim it is through memory. The survivors in Who Is Still Alive aren’t just recounting trauma; they’re rebuilding their homeland stroke by stroke. One thing that immediately stands out is how the film’s protagonists blend grief with creativity. Their resilience isn’t passive survival; it’s an act of defiance. This isn’t a ‘misery porn’ documentary. It’s a masterclass in how storytelling becomes resistance when your existence is politicized.
The Global Gatekeepers of Narrative
Let’s talk about distribution. A U.S. release by Watermelon Pictures (which handled last year’s The Voice of Hind Rajab) suggests a strategic push for impact. But what does it mean that this film could screen in Middle Eastern countries while Western distributors hesitate? What many people don’t realize is that the real battle here isn’t about Oscars—it’s about who controls the narrative. Hollywood studios often shy away from Palestinian stories for fear of political backlash, yet smaller outfits like Akka Films are filling that void. This isn’t just filmmaking; it’s cultural guerrilla warfare.
Why This Film Terrifies the Powerful
The establishment fears stories that humanize the ‘other’ because empathy is destabilizing. When a refugee describes baking bread the morning before an airstrike, it shatters the dehumanizing rhetoric that makes war palatable. If you take a step back and think about it, Who Is Still Alive weaponizes intimacy. It forces viewers to confront the cognitive dissonance of cheering for ‘freedom’ while ignoring whose freedom is being erased. This raises a deeper question: Can art ever hold power accountable, or does it just make the powerless feel seen?
A New Era of Global Documentary?
The film’s festival success—from Venice to Locarno—hints at a shift. Audiences are hungry for stories that reject the ‘both sides’ framing of conflict. But will this translate to mainstream impact? The real test isn’t Oscar votes; it’s whether this film sparks conversations in classrooms, living rooms, and policy circles. A detail I find especially interesting is Nicolas Wadimoff’s track record: this is his third Palestine-focused project. He’s not chasing trends; he’s building a legacy. And that’s rare in an industry obsessed with novelty.
Final Thoughts: The Danger of Hope
Who Is Still Alive ends with a paradox. Its subjects are broken, yes—but also defiantly whole. They’re not asking for pity; they’re demanding witness. What this really suggests is that hope, in the face of annihilation, is a radical political act. And maybe that’s why Switzerland chose this film: not to win an Oscar, but to remind itself—and the world—that humanity’s survival depends on who we let tell our stories.
