The caliber of cast gets characters rich as their potential, squeezing all their experience in, they almost carved this biography into documentary.
Craig Mazin, the creator, of this hauntingly honest series seeks to document all the tragedy in one big symphony that can melt you down in its first verse. And yes, often or not, going through a sensitive content as such, the tears and gasps are anticipated. But what Mazin along with the director, Johan Renck, has pulled off is a horror. Yes, the jarring reaction was expected, but blending in with the narration is an example of pure brilliance. The cinematography is beautifully precise. For instance, the camera is always shaking showcasing how unstable the situation was and how nervous, everyone was and should be, even the observer.
Now, this doesn’t catch your eye, from the first frame, but after half way through, you start realising, experiencing the uncomfortable world that has surrounded you, just because the lens is manipulating you to believe in this world, by a simple expression as such. The narration could easily be toned down, either out of respect or to make it more adaptable and edible for the viewers. And since there were only two ways to go through this.
And the maker didn’t wish to keep it subtle. In fact, they don’t want to, at least not this part of the series, ergo they turned the heat to 11. They deliberately cast an impeccable impression that is going to come off as an accurate documentation of what went by so rapidly and knowingly. A by-product that I adored in this adaptation is how their nature turned out to be their doom or the passage for the solace. The pretenders had to pretend all the way through, the givers gets a chance to give or pour their hearts out and storytellers a golden window to tell the truth, maybe Chernobyl, the series, isn’t all murky and barbaric.