No one moved, the room was silent as the last film credit ran. It was comforting to be in a small gathering of friends—I couldn’t imagine a safer group with whom to watch Filmed in Gaza. I had seen many of the video clips shown, but I had followed one of the NBC journalists, Samed Abu Zarifa, for years, reading his work and observing his reporting.
Yet this documentary goes behind the news stories to witness the lives of two NBC News journalists who fought so hard to bravely bring the stories to a reluctant and sometimes ill-informed public. We’re told that journalists have to be objective, detached from the people whose stories they tell. Filmed in Gaza makes one ask: is that possible when your life, your families’ lives, are inextricably bound to the events that you’re filming? And where does truth telling overshadow the elusive “objective” reporting?
From the outset, Filmed in Gaza takes us on a journey through some of the rough days of the current genocidal assault on Palestinian enclave, as it follows the two journalists, Samed Abu Zarifa and Samir Al Boji, who are determined to keep reporting what is happening on the ground despite their own experiences trying to survive as well. The documentary is directed by Samed and captures his video journalism work and that of his colleague and friend, Samir, winner of two News and Documentary Emmy Awards at the 47th Annual Awards in May 2026.
Samed is in his early 30s, married, a father of two young children. He’s been working as an NBC News photojournalist for over 10 years. Samir also has worked as a photojournalist for years. He is 40-years-old, married, and has a family of six. For his part, Samir explained why it was difficult to find a partner—some families were reluctant for their daughters to marry him when they found out his profession—journalism—because in Gaza it’s such a dangerous occupation. He proudly states, it is dangerous, and I love it. Their producer at NBC, Lawahez Jabari, gives us a short introduction: she tells the viewers that Samir is the older of the two, but is the one who brings laughter into their daily work; Samed is more serious. From there, the camera follows these journalists through almost two years of reporting starting in October 2023 when the most recent war against Palestinians began.
Following the Hamas-led attack on Israel that year, Israel banned foreign journalists from entering Gaza to report on Israel’s assaults unless they were accompanied by the IDF. As a result, Palestinian journalists Samed, Samir, and their colleagues have been the major source of news. Against that backdrop, the documentary opens with a scene of Samed in one of a number of tents, getting his hair cut, as the voice over explains, Israel has called for the area to be evacuated, but the people have no idea where to go to be safe, and so they stay, while Samed and the film crew continue filming.
Then Samir told the gripping story. “Samed and I were covering an assault on a house in Khan Younis,” he narrates. “I asked one of the first men that came out of the building what happened, and he said, the IDF bombed without warning. Samed went inside to set up more interviews, and as I was filming, the house collapsed. I knew Samed was inside, so we started searching, day and night. The rescuers were responding to our requests to do more and more, and finally Samed came out, standing tall and strong, confident, and telling the rescuers, there are more guys, more of our crew, still inside. When you see an entire building collapse on your colleague, on your friend, on someone documenting the suffering, you realise you are part of the suffering.”
In other scenes, Samed talks about losing the home he and his family spent years building, destroyed in minutes. “Our work as journalists doesn't negate our feelings. We have feelings.” Later, in April 2025, Israel bombed the tent next to Samed’s tent, and his close friend Yousef was killed.
Samir explained that filming children affected him the most. But they still continue to film. They report, for example, the story of the young father who left his children at home while he went out to the market. When he returned, Israel had bombed his home, and his children had been killed. “Sometimes, I am not sure if I should film or not.” Samir captured the video of a young boy who took on the role of parents for his five siblings after their mother was killed. He would go out to find food, and warm milk for his baby sister. As the film progresses, watching Samed and Samir and their colleagues moving from one location to the next makes it real that there are no safe spaces—not for the journalists or their families, and certainly not for the children, and the families they report on. And still, Samed says letting his wife and children leave Gaza was one of the hardest things he did. But he says it was his duty to continue reporting.
Meanwhile, NBC News producer Lawahez Jabari explains that they send out the videos so that the world can see what's happening. But Samed and Samir and their colleagues—they see and smell the blood, hear the screams, the journalists see the scenes that aren't filmed—and I can see how it has affected them. It has changed their personality, everything. Eventually, she begins to tell them they have to get out. Toward the end, Samir collapses: “I haven't eaten in three days.” And we see them struggle with the decision to leave, watch NBC’s efforts to get them out, and just when it looks as if it will happen, Israel revokes their visas—and there is no explanation. In doing so, Jabari covers the efforts they had to make to get Samed and Samir out.
Told largely from the video segments and voice overs, the photojournalists tell the news stories, but this documentary tells the heart wrenching stories about the storytellers. I had watched many of these stories when they were first reported, now I saw the price the reporters paid to make those videos. I also learned about the team behind Samed and Samir and their crew, as Lawahez Jabari, the NBC News producer in Tel Aviv, relates how she came to work with them and became intricately involved in following their reports and ultimately insisting that they also had to leave Gaza.
Ultimately, the film makes clear: there may be no easy answers when journalists are reporting on and filming stories so intimately connected to their own lives, where there are no breaks, no down time, no safe spaces, and where the only escape routes are controlled by the government responsible for the bombing. Samir and Samed show us this reality—cooking a meal in a tent shared by your colleagues in one moment, reaching for the well-known Press vest, hat, and cameras in the next. What remained with me most are the scenes with the journalists outside of their working roles: Samed saying goodbye to his wife and children as they prepare to leave Gaza, his son asking to carry the suitcase, his daughter Mariam. Samir on the phone with his young children, offering them encouragement, despite what was happening around him.
And yet the reality remains—there is no simple resolution. I wanted a good ending, and the film delivers the scenes when Samir and Samed finally get through the checkpoints, leave Gaza, and meet Lawahez Jabari in person for the first time, sharing a hug and much laughter. But that isn’t the end: the final scenes, when Israel bombs the tent that Samed and Samir share with their colleagues, capture the moment five of the journalists they had only recently left are killed.
In the end, Filmed in Gaza left me with questions I cannot close. How does one return to normal after bearing witness? What happens to the stories you couldn’t tell, the photos you couldn’t share, the memories that refuse to be filed away? How do you carry them so a world grown used to ignoring horror does not forget? According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, 196 journalists and storytellers have been killed in this war. That number is not an answer. It is an accusation. When will this end? How will it end? I don’t know. But I know it cannot end in silence. It cannot end in forgetting. It must end with someone still bearing witness—still filming, still naming, still refusing to look away. When will this end? How will it end? Not with forgetting. Not with silence. It will end only when the world finally refuses to look away.
The writer is an attorney and human rights activist in Chicago who closely follows news about Gaza after a tour to Palestine and Israel in May 2008
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer
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