Beautiful Disaster

It's been quite some time since the HBO miniseries Chernobyl captured audience attention (and then captured several awards). It took me a while to get around to it, to be in the frame of mind to watch that intense a story. But indeed, it was as good as everyone said, and I feel compelled to add my voice to the chorus: if you haven't watched the series, you should.

Chernobyl tells the story of the 1986 nuclear disaster in the Soviet Union, chronicling the aftermath in the hours, then days, then weeks and months after the accident -- before ultimately going back to the beginning to show us exactly what went wrong. It's a five episode series, each installment roughly an hour in length... and that turns out to be a powerful way to tell this tale. By not compressing the story into the run time of a movie, the mini-series can explore many different aspects of the disaster.

In particular, it can give a lot of attention to the human cost. While a great deal of Chernobyl is focused on the way the Soviet government responded to the crisis, much of it is not. It follows a firefighter who responded unknowingly to the explosion, and what he and his wife endure as a result. It follows a young man conscripted to kill pets in the affected zone (lest they spread radioactivity), and the toll of that duty on his soul. It follows the workers who attempt to contain the resulting meltdown in various ways, despite knowing the effect it will have on their lives.

It is, as you would imagine, quite a bleak story -- even though there are moments of heroism throughout that might instill you with some hope. It's not an easy watch. With an unflinching script by Craig Mazin, moving direction by Johan Renck, and unsettling music by now-Oscar-winning composer Hildur Guðnadóttir, each part will make you feel things deeply: horror at the literal and figurative fallout, disgust at the mistakes and arrogance that led to it all, and chills at just how close it all came to being far, far worse.

The performances throughout are strong, though three in particular stand out. Jared Harris is Valery Legasov, cast in this story in the familiar role of the wise man struggling to speak truth to power. His performance isn't drenched in typical Hollywood sanctimony, though; it's an often restrained take on the archetype, more engaging for its control and precision. Stellan Skarsgård plays Boris Shcherbina, a government adversary-turned-ally who serves up most of what little humor there is here through his expected Soviet stoicism (which crumbles in light of this unthinkable calamity). Emily Watson is great as a composite character created for the mini-series, Ulana Khomyuk, weaving around in different story arcs as the most moral character of the piece.

Chernobyl did receive some criticisms for its accuracy. Some say it ascribed more to malice than is fair, others say it ginned old Cold War fears that reflected paranoia more than reality, and still others nitpicked minor inaccuracies. But by and large, the story hews to the truth enough to be an effective introduction to those who don't know (or remember) the real events. It stands as a powerful drama on its own, and made me want to read up more on the actual history.

If you're looking for escapism in entertainment -- which is a totally fair thing to want -- then obviously, Chernobyl is not for you. But it's one of the most moving dramas I've seen in some time. I give the mini-series an A. If you're an intermittent HBO subscriber who, say, might pick it up again for the new season of Westworld, find some time to watch this too if you haven't already.