Tantura

The documentary reevaluates the standards of truth, interrogating Israel’s dismissal of these events to begin a new, compelling conversation about Tantura.

A damning exposé of a nation unwilling to admit its primordial sins.

When “Tantura” finally moves into its final act, the wider emotional ripple effects of its subject matter are difficult to avoid, as the question shifts from what is remembered to who is allowed to remember (and be remembered) in the first place.



Not simply a persuasive augmentation of Katz’s argument, but also a disturbing portrait of how very human impulses — passivity, rationalization, social pressures — can shape the writing of history.

Schwarz does a fine job of selectively expanding the scope of Katz’s story from a highly subjective he-said/they-said dispute into a bigger story about cultural amnesia.

The film works on two levels: one is about the massacre; the other is about the psychology employed not only by perpetrators, but by the powerful forces that back them up.

Over and over again, Tantura underlines, highlights and italicizes the saying, usually attributed to Napoleon Bonaparte, that history is a lie agreed upon.

Given the current official state of Israeli politics, with a new coalition government that includes a fascist party, Schwarz’s effort took some courage.

Documentary about the conflicting accounts of the genocide in a Palestinian village by Israeli troops, revealing the power of denial.

Schwarz’s documentary, conversely, provides enough political doublespeak to engage in it with caution and skepticism, but this all feels like a morbid PR stunt.