In every film, sequences of moving imagery create a unique narrative. Yet, the sights in "Occupied City" offer a level of emotion that few films achieve. The project emerged amidst the pandemic when Amsterdam, like numerous cities worldwide, leaned on precautions such as facemasks, social distancing, and quarantine to curb the coronavirus' spread. As the world grappled with this health crisis, director Steve McQueen turned to Amsterdam's haunting past, painting a vivid portrayal of a city grappling with painful echoes of the Nazi occupation during World War II.

The parallels drawn between the pandemic and the atrocities of the early 1940s may seem reductive. However, McQueen skillfully contrasts these seismic events to underscore the concept of historical recurrence and humanity's resilience in catastrophes. In its essence, "Occupied City" becomes a poignant exploration of the cyclical realities of history unfolding in the most unexpected corners.

Unlike other films regarding the Holocaust such as "The Zone of Interest" or "Origin," it isn't McQueen's intention to depict horror or elaborate on one person's grief. He focuses instead on the city's metamorphosis, the oscillation between survival and oblivion, altruism and egotism, evolution, and destruction.

McQueen's creative collaboration with wife, filmmaker and author Bianca Stigter, proves significant for "Occupied City." The film is an adaptation of Stigter’s book, Atlas of an Occupied City, Amsterdam 1940-1945, and she also narrates it. Stigter previously breathed life into a brief video clip of a Jewish-Polish town pre-Nazi invasion, transforming it into a profound 69-minute tribute, "Three Minutes: A Lengthening." Her influence shines through in "Occupied City," where modern Amsterdam tirelessly engages with its troubling past.

Providing the voiceover for the film, Melanie Hyams guides audiences through a story divided into two segments with distinct thematic intentions. Yet, both parts interweave elements of the pandemic's hardships and recollections of the courageous resistance during the war.

Abandoning traditional narrative delineation, McQueen does not present a comprehensive timeline or a map indicating the geographic vicinity of the mentioned sites. Instead, the film becomes a relentless cascade of heartrending anecdotes, delivering a cumulative impact intended to mirror the city's perpetual fear during the occupation.

McQueen does not shy away from condemning Amsterdam's reaction to the pandemic, highlighting self-centered acts of the younger generation. Hyams and editor Xander Nijsten skillfully blend narratives of "The Hungry Winter" with scenes of carefree youths enjoying life without masks.

"Occupied City" might be a sober exploration of past and present tragedies, but it's also a chronicle of resistance and resilience. It honors Jewish individuals who defied their fate, whether through self-determined ending of lives, risking exposure to rescue others, or credulous citizens stowing away both neighbors and strangers. One remarkable account recalls a Jewish man piloting a commandeered German seaplane decked with Swastikas to escort his family to safety in England.

The word 'demolished' lingers heavily in this haunting narrative, emphasizing how historical landmarks can fade from memory. Still, McQueen insists that past atrocities, once observed, cannot be forgotten. As grim as they may be, they warrant acknowledgment – a sentiment that firmly grounds "Occupied City" and ensures that it marks a spot of its own in the annals of memorializing cinema.