Docudrama Explores Aftermath of October 7

It hasn’t even been a year since Hamas launched a surprise attack on Israeli soldiers and civilians on the other side of the Gaza border, igniting a long and deadly conflict that is still very much ongoing. And yet, someone has already decided to go and shoot a movie about what happened.

Is there such a thing as too soon when it comes to depicting the aftermath of a massacre, especially in a work of semi-fiction? And what about all the people still under threat, whether Palestinian or Israeli, as the catastrophic war continues to rage on?

These are some of the many questions that one can, and should, ask before seeing Of Dogs and Men (Al klavim veanashim), writer-director Dani Rosenberg’s quietly harrowing account of the Oct. 7 massacre and its many victims. Neither fiction nor documentary, but somewhere in between, the small-scale feature follows a lone teenage girl, Dar (Ori Avinoam), who returns to the kibbutz from which she narrowly escaped in order to search for her lost dog.

Rosenberg uses that simple premise to explore the ruins of what was once a peaceful rural community, while also shedding light on the bombings that have been killing civilians in the neighboring Gaza Strip. For a conflict in which many people feel obliged to take sides, the director adapts a more humanistic approach, showing how wars can be completely indiscriminate when it comes to the killing of innocents. And he does so in a way that manages to respect the victims instead of exploiting their memories.

Viewers who sit through Of Dogs and Men, which is barely 80 minutes long and minimalist in terms of narrative, will no doubt find a few bones of contention if they dig hard enough. For instance, much more screen time is given to the Israeli side than the Palestinian one, which is only seen from a safe distance, or else in videos displayed on a phone. But for a director attempting to bear witness to the events of Oct. 7 from the Israeli point of view, Rosenberg makes sure to also reveal the mass destruction taking place just kilometers away in Gaza.

Sticking entirely by Dar’s side as she ventures into the Nir Oz kibbutz, which was one of several locations caught completely by surprise when Hamas militants broke through the border, the film was shot on site by a tiny crew only weeks after the actual attacks. While Avinoam is an actress, everyone else she meets is playing themselves, with much of the dialogue improvised on the spot.

Among the handful of people Dar encounters is Natan Bahat, an 80-something longtime resident of the kibbutz who decided to keep living there, even after his own grandchildren were kidnapped and several of his neighbors were murdered. Natan serves as a heartfelt guide to Dar, driving her around the desolate property and allowing her to spend the night at his house, which was spared by the assailants while other homes were set on fire. The old man also represents the leftist, peace-minded spirit of many Nir Oz residents, telling a story about an Arab friend in Gaza whom he sadly hasn’t heard from since the war started.

Rosenberg, whose previous features include The Vanishing Soldier and The Death of Cinema and My Father Too, is less interested in politics, or exploring the root causes of the unending Israeli-Palestinian conflict, than in putting a human face on tragedy. Dar’s brief conversations — with soldiers, forensic pathologists, volunteers, a kindergarten teacher — give us hints of the true horrors they have been through. The setting is real as well, offering glimpses of a bucolic community that was suddenly interrupted and then completely abandoned.

As the film progresses, we gradually learn Dar’s own story. First, it’s through the diaries of her mother, which are read in voiceover and describe the woman’s early years on the kibbutz, leading up to the time her daughter was born. Later, Dar tearfully explains to someone how her mother was kidnapped on Oct. 7 and hasn’t been heard from since.

Despite the intensity of what we’re seeing, there are no easy sentiments or pathos-ridden scenes in Of Dogs and Men, but rather the desire to capture the aftermath of the attacks as earnestly as possible. This includes inserting videos that Dar scrolls through on her phone, where we see terrifying images of the massacre in Israel but also of the unrelenting bombings in Gaza — ones that Dar witnesses from afar as she wanders.

The director further explores the Palestinian side in two scenes. In one, Dar overhears a journalist talking to a man in Gaza who lost nearly two dozen family members, stating their names and ages out loud. In the other, which is the movie’s only true flight of fancy, Dar dreams of her dog befriending a Palestinian boy who has to hide from the bombs being dropped around him. That sequence is done using animation, and while it temporarily distracts us from the film’s more sober realism, it provides a touching vision of a child seeking respite.

Dar is constantly seeking respite as well, and her day-long journey allows us to grasp the weight of what she and others have been going through, even if it’s impossible to put ourselves in their place. Of Dogs and Men is ultimately a small movie, modest in means and surely imperfect. But it strives hard to do what the writer George Eliot once said all art should do, which is to extend our sympathies.