The Children of October 7

What an important and wonderful documentary, sad and heartfelt, but ABSOLUTELY ruined by a half-witted woman with the most ridiculous questions ever: 'Do you miss your father?' and 'How did you feel when the terrorists came into your house?'), completely plastered in enough make-up to cover 3 elephants, jewellery to fill a entire shop, gold sunglesses, false plastic nails that you can clearly see she doesn't want anyone touching, her chest half exposed, and a wardrobe change in every scene. Who would ever dare to dress like that on a visit to such a war-torn area? - She's an insult to humanity.

I watched the documentary, expecting to see a full, balanced account of the events. But what I saw was a one-sided story - told neatly, emotionally, even powerfully - but from just one perspective. It followed the pain, confusion, and aftermath experienced by a group whose voices are often centered in global narratives. Their heartbreak was real. Their fear was genuine. Their tears were raw and human. And yet, the entire time, I couldn't stop thinking: what about the other side? What about those whose lives were shattered long before this story began? Whose daily suffering is rarely documented, let alone acknowledged?

As the film played, I kept waiting for a pivot - a moment where the camera might shift, just briefly, to those living on the other side of the fence, the wall, the checkpoint. But that moment never came. I kept waiting to hear about the families who have lost generations, the children who wake up to the sound of drones, the mothers who bury sons and daughters every week, the voices that are constantly silenced, labeled, or ignored. I wanted the documentary to be honest enough to say: yes, pain exists here - but it also exists there, perhaps even more deeply and consistently. But the story remained one-dimensional. Clean. Focused. Sanitized in a way that made it digestible to a mainstream audience - and convenient to ignore the larger context.

This omission wasn't accidental. It felt intentional. Because to tell the full story would require facing uncomfortable truths: truths about oppression, displacement, historical injustice, and decades of silent suffering. It would require acknowledging power dynamics, not just moments of grief. And maybe that's too much to ask from a single film. But if the intention was to educate, to humanize, to invite empathy - then empathy should not be selective. You don't get to center one group's fear while erasing another's trauma.

After watching I'm left with a very strange feeling. On one hand, I'm so impressed and horrified by the stories of these brave children and seeing how they, even while answering, are struggling to cope with their feelings. It's really heartbreaking and humbling to hear them talk about how their families were killed and what they decided to do in that moment to have a chance at living. It left me speechless for quite some time.

But on the other hand, while watching from 'documentary-technical' point of view, I was getting increasingly frustrated by how Tucker was interviewing these kids. I don't believe she has ever heard of the term 'open-ended question' and I felt the kids were not able to fully express their thoughts and feelings because of this.

It really seems like she first considered what she herself would do or feel in that situation (which is a good attempt at empathy, of course) but then formulates her own perspective as the question. This leads to very steering questions with sometimes even value judgment pouring through and makes me wonder if the answer is truthful or a bit pressured by the way of asking.

For instance, (I'm creating a fictional and extreme example here because I want to make clear what I'm talking about and I don't want to use the real answers here in the review) a girl could tell her "and then I remained in my hiding place until everybody left." Tucker would then empathize and maybe think that she would feel guilty about not actively helping her family escape, too. In itself a very valid reaction, but then (in my example scenario, she didn't actually say this literally) she would probably pose her follow-up question like this: "Didn't you feel guilty about not helping your family?" If you're a bit like me you can already feel that the formulation of this question is wrong on so many levels...

But on the other hand, her being a star and influencer and getting, it seems, a good rapport with these children is very valuable indeed. The children seem at ease talking to her and that is also a part of interviewing which she actually does very well.

In the end, I don't know if the connection/rapport compensates for the obvious lack of interviewing skills but it did leave me with an unsatisfying feeling from a more 'technical' point of view...

I wish I didn't need to write a review for such a sad and important movie. In these times of lies and misinformation, it's crucial that people unconnected to the conflict get a chance to watch the accounts of those children who survived the attack on Oct 7th. Watch this movie to bear witness to the reality of terror and listen to the firsthand words of those children who survived.

Like the Holocaust, there are times in history where we want to look away- the pain and horror is too great, but the only way to honour the memories of those innocent lives taken is to see and hear with our own eyes. This movie, created by Montana Tucker, is a first person account that sears your heart, but leaves you with the knowledge and truth of what happened on Oct 7th. Evil made its way into the life of children and it's our duty to watch and share their stories with the world.

I watched this documentary about October 7th expecting a sober reckoning with the day's horrors-not just the pain of one side, but the full, agonizing truth of what unfolded. Instead, I was given a carefully curated narrative, one that wielded grief as both weapon and shield. The film captured, with unflinching intimacy, the terror of Israeli civilians-the children hiding in fear, the families torn apart, the raw anguish of a community under attack. Their suffering was undeniable, their trauma visceral.

But the documentary refused to acknowledge a harder, more essential truth: October 7th was not a one-sided atrocity. While Hamas militants attacked in kibbutzim and at a music festival, Israeli forces responded with airstrikes that killed Israeli and Palestinian civilians in both kibbutzim and Gaza-including children who had no part in the attack. The film framed the violence as a sudden, inexplicable eruption, as if it existed outside of history, outside of cause and effect. It never paused to ask: What led here? It never dared to show the Palestinian parents digging their own children from rubble that same day, or the decades of occupation, blockade, and despair that shaped this moment.

This wasn't just an oversight, it was an active erasure. The documentary placed all blame on one side, all innocence on the other, as if war and retaliation could ever be so simple. It asked us to mourn some children while ignoring others. It demanded outrage at some deaths while treating others as inevitable, even justified.

If the goal was truth, then the film failed. Because the real story of October 7th is not a tale of monsters and martyrs. It is a story of cycles, of vengeance, of two peoples trapped in a struggle where violence only begets more violence. To tell it any other way isn't just dishonest. It's dangerous.