We Live Here
(Kazakhstan, 80 min.)
Dir. Zhanana Kurmasheva
Programme: World Showcase (North American Premiere)
The Semipalatinsk Test Site endured 456 nuclear trials between 1949 and 1991. At the hands of the Soviet Union, over 1.5 million people in Kazakhstan have had diagnosed medical ailments linked to the nuclear fallout, effects that transcend the generations that lived in the surrounding villages during that 42 year period. It’s a part of the nuclear arms race that has gone relatively unacknowledged by the wider international community and one that director Zhanana Kurmasheva seeks to highlight.
We Live Here uses one family’s hardship to confront the everlasting effects of Semipalatinsk. Convinced that their daughter’s illness relates to radiation effects passed on, they come upon a bureaucratic issue wherein, at the point of filming, only three generations from contact were recognized by the government as being effected by nuclear exposure. The family pleads with those in power to commission tests to determine whether the fourth generation could also be harmed by the radiation, but are only met with administrative headaches. Even the daughter’s attending physician advises her father to, effectively, let it go and focus on supporting her — advice easier said than done.
Interestingly, we never hear the daughter’s voice in the film. Kurmasheva provides no explanation as to why, but in the silence, we can reflect the life-altering circumstances thrust upon millions whose concerns went ignored or denied. However, the film stops short at becoming overtly political, spending more of its time on the resulting issues than the why.
Rounding out the human element, We Live Here offers a multitude of information, to the point that the film renders a bit dry. The film’s subject matter is multi-faceted and complex, and We Live Here attempts to weave together multiple threads to present a holistic view of the testing site. However, servicing a variety of issues, the film misses the opportunity to dive deeply into any one. The result is a film that elicits compassion and empathy, but does so in theory where we know what is sad and tragic and respond accordingly, instead of being reactionary.
The exception to the rule being some of the visuals used. In between doctors appointments, glimpses into ecologists surveying the land, and interviews with former and current residents of the land near Semipalatinsk, cinematographer Kuanysh Kurmanbayev includes stunning shots of the country’s expansive scenery with herds of animals traversing the land. The imagery provides a first-hand look of the beauty and wildlife lost, impressing upon the effects of Semipalatinsk beyond humanity.
In her director’s statement, Kurmasheva touches upon a personal note: her mother was born near an effected village and warned the filmmaker of sharing this with others, especially potential suitors. The stigma, an intangible but cutting force, surrounding families living around the testing site offers such a compelling story, it’s a wonder that this didn’t become the focal point of the film.
The decision to overload We Live Here with long bouts of information does remove the gratuitous sensationalism that can permeate a film of this nature, though. It also aids in creating a stoic film, landing the final warning for an increasingly divisive world whose countries no longer find themselves in an arms race, but locked and loaded with a nuclear arsenal ready to be deployed at the touch of a button.
The success of Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer in 2023 renewed the morality debate behind America’s decision to use an atomic bomb, the first time a country used nuclear weapons as a means of warfare. While the film alludes to the consequences to the world thereafter, We Live Here provides consideration for the fear it struck into competing nations that translated into the creation of sites like Semipalatinsk.
Located in a part of the world not often spoken of in international politics, Kurmasheva succeeds in putting audiences on notice of the real-time (and perpetual) devastation, albeit in a manner that lands a soft punch.
