In an era of tepid sequels, flailing franchises and high-profile flops, it’s easy to become disillusioned with the state of cinema. But, when a film is good and important and impactful, it still has the power to move the needle. A case in point is , the new documentary from Israeli investigative journalists Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor, two of the Oscar-winning filmmakers behind 2024’s , which chronicled the destruction of a Palestinian community in the occupied West Bank, one that had previously resisted forced displacement. Now, the pair are back with another searing indictment of their nation’s government – a movie which earned a record-breaking 25 minute-long standing ovation at its Venice Film Festival premiere, won the Italian showcase’s third-place Special Jury Prize, and has been dogged by criticism from the powers that be in Israel ever since, with threats from Benjamin Netanyahu himself to sue the filmmakers for defamation and revoke their Israeli citizenship.

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This is filmmaking as a political act – a restrained, meticulous, bone-chilling depiction of the progressive erasure of Gaza, as told by some of those who are responsible for it; a clear-eyed assessment of all that has happened in the region over the past three years, which asks frank questions and compels us to confront difficult allegations. It might be the most genuinely consequential movie you watch in 2026.

It transports us to 2023, and our setting is a rooftop in Tel Aviv at night, as the city’s residents, visible through their brightly lit windows, settle in for the evening, laying on their sofas to watch TV or sitting down to dinner. Then, in the half light and open air, there’s Yuval Abraham, preparing to interview a string of anonymous sources. These are 24 Israeli intelligence officers and soldiers who have been involved in the surveillance and remote killing of Palestinians in Gaza. Their voices and appearances have been altered to protect them. If identified, they’d be jailed. But still, they wish to speak.

Both what they say and the way in which they say it are shocking. Officers claim that AI is used to identify targets for airstrikes, people who may be connected to Hamas based on how closely their phone’s data mirrors that of confirmed Hamas operatives. Naturally, the conclusions they come to are frequently inaccurate. Still, this man says, using AI to determine who lives or dies might actually be better (read: more merciful) than leaving it up to someone whose friend might have been killed by Hamas.

Another operative speaks about hacking into the mobile phone of a 12-year-old girl who was texting her mother to say that her father – believed by the Israel Defense Forces to be a Hamas operative – had just come home. That was the cue to bomb him and his whole family. “You hack her phone, then kill her?” asks Abraham. The man says yes.

To him, she is “naza”, the military term for collateral damage, used to lay out how many civilians will die from a potential airstrike – a phrase which does not distinguish between men and women, or adults, children and babies. A crying newborn, overheard by an intelligence officer who is listening in on phone calls in the apartment block he’s about to bomb, is, in the end, just one naza.

Airstrikes are spoken of where there were 200 naza – the indiscriminate bombing of whole neighbourhoods, when it’s suspected that a senior Hamas operative might have just passed through them. One of the interviewees has been involved in destroying so many buildings, that he doesn’t even remember how many he’s flattened. And the word “naza” is used constantly, in an effort to ignore the human cost of what has occurred.

What becomes clear is the notion that, after October 7, some Israeli officers believed that there were no innocent people in Gaza, that the whole nation ought to be held responsible, and that to “erase” Gaza was the only solution. The killing, they say, is being done “on a mass scale, like a factory”, and many of the interviewees insist that they are only small cogs in a larger machine. “If I hadn’t been there, someone else would have done it,” says one. “I trust the system, and I do my job as part of the system,” says another. When Abraham asks one officer why he didn’t object when he had doubts about what was being done, he replies, “You’re not allowed to say that. It’s not your role. My role is . I’m not supposed to express any moral or principled position.”

One man even speaks about having gone to Poland, and says, “I still see those Nazis as evil, but what does that mean I am?” Abraham asks another if he thinks what is happening in Gaza is a genocide. “Yes,” he answers. “Completely.” He insists that what is happening is intentional. “We intended to kill those children.” Even more horrifyingly, he adds that completing missions is “so insanely fun” – all done remotely, it’s almost like a video game. Some officers speak of carrying out airstrikes and then heading out with friends.

The film ends with a brief but heartbreaking glimpse at the civilian cost of all of this in Gaza – rubble as far as the eye can see, and the desperate pleas of those searching for their children in the ruins of their former homes. Over 73,000 Palestinians have already been killed in Gaza over the past three years, and that death toll continues to rise. The stories we hear in are terrifying, but it’s crucial to remember that they claim to be only the tip of the iceberg. Many interviewees reiterate that there is much else to be revealed – but they are afraid to say more than they already have.

is heading to cinemas, though I suspect, given the toughness of the subject matter, most people will watch it once it streams for free on ’s website later this autumn instead. (The newspaper is one of the film’s co-producers.) In its aesthetics and approach – its single location and visual simplicity – it is intentionally understated and, dare I say it, not inherently cinematic. At just over an hour, it’s like a really excellent episode of or . But that’s hardly a criticism – feels destined to become an enduring historical document, one which will and should be seen by generations to come.

The Israeli government, for its part, has rejected the claims made in the film, argued that the testimonies come from junior-ranking officers, and accused the filmmakers of treason. The chief of general staff of the Israeli military claimed the film was “based on blood libels, deliberate distortions of reality and grave, false accusations against IDF soldiers and commanders” and said military lawyers were examining “possible legal measures concerning the film and those involved in it”. A week after the film’s Venice premiere, right-wing protestors surrounded the home of director Rachel Szor’s parents and called for violent retribution; and recently, an IDF documentary titled has been released to counter and discredit the film. But, Szor and Abraham have stood their ground and refused to be silenced. Their brilliant and harrowing film speaks for itself.

Naza will be in cinemas from 16 October, before streaming for free on The Guardian’s website from late November.