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The terrifying story of Japan’s Fukushima nuclear accident of 2011, caused by a cataclysmic tsunami, is retold by British film-maker James Jones and Japanese co-director Megumi Inman. It was a natural and human-made disaster that left 20,000 dead and a further 164,000 displaced from the area, some with no prospect of return. The earthquake damaged the cooling systems that prevent meltdowns and caused three near-apocalyptic explosions, bringing the nation close to a catastrophe that would have threatened its very existence. Incredibly, the ultimate calamity was finally staved off by nothing more hi-tech than a committed fire brigade spraying thousands of tons of water on the exposed fuel rods.
The film plunges us into the awful story moment-by-moment, accompanied by interviews with the chief players of the time – prominently nuclear plant employee Ikuo Izawa, a shift supervisor and de facto leader of the “Fukushima 50” (actually 69 people) who became legendary in Japan and beyond for their self-sacrificial courage, staying in a nightmarish reactor when everyone else had been evacuated.
Perhaps we could have been given more context and less immediate drama, particularly more background about the plant’s dismal corporate owners, the Tokyo Electric Power Company, or Tepco, which had closed a nuclear plant in 2007 after an earthquake, with a resulting loss of profits. But to skimp on the drama might be obtuse, given the pure hair-raising shock of events. The archive footage of the tsunami spreading across the fields and farmland of Japan is deeply disturbing; “nightmare” is a word casually used, but appropriate here.
The Japanese soul had been uniquely traumatised by the nuclear issue in 1945 and Fukushima was the opening of an old wound; Barack Obama’s offers to help were received warily and the film hints that some of a certain age might have even suspected a kind of opportunistic emergency takeover, like the Douglas MacArthur rule that followed the war. There is something chillingly military in the company’s need for volunteers for a so-called “suicide squad” to vent the reactors to forestall a pressure buildup.
And as far as comparisons with the Chornobyl disaster go, that involved a single reactor; Fukushima had six ready to blow. Before I watched this film, I assumed that Japan’s modern democracy would at least have meant more transparency than the sclerotic and malign Soviet apparatchiks. But maybe not. Tepco has still not released a full history of exactly what went wrong and what discussions took place at the time. And in any case, politicians were themselves dismally eager to cover themselves by tentatively blaming Tepco.
The most robust witness here is the New York Times’s Tokyo bureau chief Martin Fackler, who gives us a crisp account of the official chaos and bungling – and the fact that Tepco had already received a report indicating the Fukushima plant was vulnerable to an earthquake and did nothing. He is interesting on corporate obeisance to the “safety myth”, an industry article of faith which does not result in vigilant and innovative efforts to improve safety, but rather icy disapproval of anyone who questions existing safety provisions. Doing so was disloyalty to the industry and could damage your career.
Perhaps inevitably, the larger questions are left open. Fossil fuels cause slow-motion catastrophe to the planet – in fact, not so slow – while nuclear fuel does not cause climate change, but could cause instant calamity. So is the answer simply what the industry says it is? More and better safety? Or can other renewables fill the gap? Either way, this is a gripping film.
