The Children of October 7

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.

This movie is a must see for all. To take the time to meet each child and discuss their pain is commendable. History must be recorded. These innocent children are completely traumatized and we are grateful Montana was able to sit and share their stories. What these children endured and experienced is unbelievable and to be able to share it for the world to hear is very brave. With the antisemitism rising in the world and the hate that is spewed it is more important now to watch this movie and hear the stories from the young innocent children. A must see - thank you Montana for doing this much needed documentary.

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.

No one can deny the horror those children experienced, the fear, the absolute terror that unfolded and the evil unleashed upon them.

Their testimonies are really honest and brutal. Although the questions were walled in a carefully curated to create the documentary's almost railroaded narrative.

The supporters would say that their story needed to be told and it did. But it was extremely odd to entirely exclude the history of the conflict and the possible reasons for the attack. It weaponised their genuine suffering to try and portray an innocence for one side of the conflict which is simply not there.

This documentary could have been great at showing the terrible atrocities, but was undermined by its lack of honesty about the framing which was almost jarring in its short comings.