Presented in the Best of Fests section of IDFA 2021, Zhao Liang’s I’m So Sorry is a powerful, heartbreaking anti nuclear manifesto, full of mastery and flair.
As part of our coverage of IDFA 2021 (International Documentary Festival Amsterdam), running in Amsterdam from November 17th to 28th, we explored the Best of Fests section where we came across I’m So Sorry, directed by Zhao Liang, which premiered earlier this year at the 74th Cannes Film Festival, in the brand new Cinema for the Climate section.
Early on, the film plunges us into the hell of the devastation caused by the nuclear power plants of Chernobyl and Fukushima. By pointing his camera at the few lonely people, among the ruins left behind by the population who fled the directly contaminated areas, the director allows audiences to observe up close the agony that both accidents have generated. The film portrays a world with no traces of life left. The bodies and the minds of the few people who did not abandon their homes appear equally devastated by the aftermath of those accidents. The only things which are left are loneliness, agony, and death. The threatening sound design, coupled with a slow-paced collection of captivating, stunning shots of those hostile areas contribute to the creation of a suffocating atmosphere, which will be the ground for the director’s message.
Indeed, slowly but surely, the director manages to unfold his message. With serious and perpective voiceover interventions, the director invites us to question the absurdity of the situation where the nuclear power plant accidents led the affected areas. “Is is the past or the future?”, he asks. Little by little, the director crafts a pungent, anti nuclear manifest by connecting the greed for economic growth to the devastating consequences we have been exposed to. In this regard, what the film succeeds at doing is to show the suffering margins of this greedy world to denounce an entire system.
Thus, from an anthropoligical filmmaking style, the film shrewdly hones in on what looks more like an activist film. Even when filming the dismantling of a nuclear power plant facility in Germany, the camera shows us the monstruosity of this huge, complex, metallic, cold, threatening creature, built by men, and guilty of ending life in places like the Chernobyl Exclusion Area.
With careful craftsmanship, the film does well in suggesting the absurdity of this Frankeinstein that men have created.
Finally, the film culminates in a gut-wrenching scene with a mother, living in Belarus, near the Chernobyl Exclusion Site, taking care of her highly disabled daughter, as a direct consequence of the contamination of the area, leading us to consider the strength of the film’s title. Are we even “so sorry” for the younger generation, for having created a Frankeinstein, and for piling up an inconceivable amount of contaminated waste aroud the world?
The film certainly ends on a desperate, resignated note. One walks away from the film with the feeling of having gone through hell, a hell we have contributed to create. There is no immediate bright future on display. There is also very little hope.
Overall, Zhao Liang crafted a powerful anti nuclear manifesto sure to leave audiences deeply moved, if not heartbroken.
