đź“ş Chernobyl

I found HBO’s 2019 Chernobyl TV series entertaining and worth watching, though a bit simplistic.

The acting is stellar. The characters are convincing, though I would have liked more depth in Shcherbina’s and Legasov’s arcs. Which, of course, time constraints prevent. I should also have liked a more convincing Dyatlov, whom I found almost cartoonish.

In retrospect, I had unrealistic expectations; I anticipated more depth and insights on dealing with these critical emergencies and the behavior of systems. To be fair, the show depicted a good example of somewhat individually-innocuous mistakes or failures —including deliberately keeping important information about nuclear reactors from their operators— cascading into a catastrophe. However, the explicit message —the cost of lies— felt a bit obvious, little more than: “institutionalized lying (direct form of corruption) bad, truth good.”

The Soviet regime shown is fundamentally corrupt, more interested in appearances —obsessed with not getting humiliated— and fundamentally convinced that lies can cover inconvenient truths. It is also a system that extorts extraordinary sacrifices from its citizens.

A more interesting question, also at the heart of the series, is whether individuals have any power when they clash with the values of the system they’re embedded in. Does the system always trump the individuals? The answer offered is subtle.

On the surface, Chernobyl seems to suggest that individuals are powerless —c.f., Legasov’s run ins with KGB chairman Charkov; Shcherbina’s “I’ve known braver souls than you” speech.

The message the show offers is, however, the opposite: despite all odds stacked against us, all the control structures and restraints, we’re not entirely powerless. We see Legasov’s attitude at the trial; the dialogue preparing for the journey to Vienna; and Shcherbina’s character arc —the pivotal moment when he lends Legasov support during the trial. Many were conscripted, which makes this murkier, but we also see sacrifices of volunteers possibly prevent a much worse disaster.

I’m not very convinced. I find it easier to attribute the system’s collapse fully to its own inefficiencies than to sporadic heroic actions. Sure, acts of resistance may accelerate the fall, but my intuition is that they’re insignificant next to the force of systemic dynamics.

Some scenes are powerful and well shot. Ignatenko’s tragic story is touching —despite many parts being fiction. I know nothing about nuclear reactors, but I appreciated the explanation of counteracting forces during the trial.

After watching each episode, I listened to the corresponding episode from The Chernobyl Podcast. I liked the visibility given to how they wrote and even filmed many scenes —even entire characters— that they ended up dropping. It provides a nice example of how important and difficult it is to discard many parts an only let the best make it into the final work —perfection achieved when there’s nothing left to remove.

I also found it interesting how the show navigates the tension between strongly grounding the show in reality —e.g., occasionally playing audio recordings in Russian untranslated, keeping all text in Cyrillic, realistically reconstructing various buildings or rooms, telling some real stories as faithfully as possible— versus taking creative license in order to connect better with the audience —e.g., not allowing any Russian accents, inventing a few characters to stand in for groups, placing Legasov and Shcherbina at the trial. The show wants to be as genuine as possible, but makes reasonable compromises. The decision is to remain true to the essential —to the spirit—, include all details that fit unaltered, and fictionalize the surface when it aids the narrative.

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