The closest study of individuals living under fascism has produced a large portion of director Steve McQueen’s best work; the filmmaker and visual artist is obviously interested in — and hopeful about — the resistance to such oppression. A little less intimate than his amazing Small Axe project, Occupied City is a much bigger and more colorful examination than movies like Hunger, based on the book Atlas Of An Occupied City, Amsterdam 1940-1945 by his wife and creative collaborator Bianca Stigter.
The film essentially goes building-by-building, examining each building in Amsterdam and providing historical context about the city during the Nazi occupation of the city during World War II. Narrator Melanie Hyams describes the people who lived there in the 1940s and what happened to them. This serves as a window into both the past and the modern life of those who currently reside there. Filmed in the boxy Academy ratio during the pandemic, it contrasts contemplation and observation with a cold history narrative over stunning and mesmerizing images. The camera pans throughout the city, perhaps in search of tangible proof of the remnants of the occupation and their potential significance today.
A sense of unity is subtly established by McQueen’s visual direction despite the turbulent history being presented.
It adds up to a somewhat overwhelming quantity of material over the course of its almost four and a half-hour length, which can be challenging to digest and absorb. It’s simpler to recognize how McQueen reframes all of this data by contrasting narration from the past with images from the present and analyzing the resonance between the two. He frequently draws parallels between modern activism and fears of violence, annihilation, or calamity; noticeably, the camera records some brutal police crackdowns.
A sense of unity is subtly established by McQueen’s visual direction despite the turbulent history being presented. Seeing a demonstration against discourse that denigrates refugees and whose speakers acknowledge Black lives in the US and the hypocrisy of white supremacy is energizing. A young, mixed-race Jewish boy is practicing for his Bar Mitzvah in another poignant scene; his combined origin suggests that he is a long way from the city’s racist, oppressive past.
Throughout the city, the film includes scenes of people going about their daily lives, unwinding in their homes, and skating on a frozen river or sledding down a frozen hill to the music of disco. Even these unassuming pictures serve as a deliberate contrast to the city’s fascist past by illustrating hard-won liberties. All of it comes together to form a massive anthropological effort that powerfully depicts tenacity, intersectionality, and togetherness.