Futaba, Japan, evacuated after the March 11, 2011 earthquake, tsunami, and ensuing nuclear disaster, as seen in Nuclear Nation (First Run Features)

Films that focus on the aftermath of a catastrophic disaster, be it natural, man-made or otherwise, tend to follow similar structures in their narratives. Blame is widely dispersed, survivors are depicted as having suffered while remaining strong-willed, and hope for a brighter future is modestly glimpsed at the conclusion. With Nuclear Nation, director Atsushi Funahashi follows several of these tropes. But while sifting through images of unimaginable destruction and desolation, a sense of abiding perseverance and ultimate reemergence shines through in the daily actions and interactions of his film’s subjects.

It opens with a blusteringly windy soundtrack and archival footage of the explosion at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant. This disaster was a residual effect of the cataclysmic earthquake and tsunami that hit northeast Japan in March 2011. Casualties from these disasters rose to more than 15,000, with an additional 6,000 injured and thousands missing. But the tragedies of these lost lives are not the focal point. Instead, Funahashi concentrates his narrative on the people left behind.

An abandoned high school in suburban Tokyo now serves as a shelter for the surviving townspeople of Futaba, the community located closest to the damaged nuclear reactors. The refuge center is referred to as a “modern-day Noah’s Ark.” However, it is depicted not as a misshapen, mishandled centrality of misery, as one might expect, but rather as a safe haven that is clean, orderly, well-managed, and filled with polite, cheerful people. That’s not to say that the plight of the affected citizens is anything but tragic, but the tenacity and spirit of this community, which faces seemingly insurmountable odds in rebuilding so many shattered lives, is nothing less than remarkable.

Had the director focused primarily on the stirring personal accounts of the citizens of Futaba, rather than delving into the political and economical mismanagement of the disaster’s aftermath, the film might have engendered more of a commiserative connection with its audience. Of course, there will always be scrutiny following such a massive catastrophe (in this case, the Japanese government and the Tokyo Electric Power Company are the focal points of its citizens ire). But while it is certainly essential that the powers that be accept responsibility for the mishandling of the country’s dire circumstances, Nuclear Nation loses much of its potency when trying to turn itself into a political commentary.

One scene depicts the residents protesting the governmental mistreatment of their desolate circumstances. They desperately want to return to their homes, but their cries for help seem almost detached, as if they already know that their requests will go unanswered. And on the other side of the ropes, government officials appear to face a similar sense of trepidation. They, too, want to help rebuild Futaba, but with the dangerous levels of radiation still emitting from the mangled power plants, there is little that they can really do to bring these people back home in the near future. Everyone is angry, but the direction of their anger is where the film, and its subjects, begins to stumble.

It’s through Mayor Katsutaka Idogawa’s exchanges with the director that the film finds its footing again. “People aren’t talking about their anger because they’re living it,” he says. “It comes from the gut, the anger.” Idogawa also puts into perspective the Faustian bargain with nuclear power that the Japanese had previously cemented. Tax incentives and other benefits encouraged the citizens of Futaba to allow these allegedly harmless facilities to be built in their backyards. Now, it’s evident that many residents woefully regret that decision.

Idogawa concludes by saying, “The power plant only did us 40 years of good. Now I see that the cons outweigh the pros.” Two and a half years after the nuclear meltdown, there are still hundreds of Futaba refugees that remain isolated from their previous lives. This seems to ardently underscore the mayor’s conclusion. And though the director pledges to continue filming the displaced until they are finally allowed to return to their homes, the number of weeks, months, or even years before that desire comes to fruition is anyone’s guess.

A final tracking shot through the decimated town implies that, despite the extraordinary propensity of the refugees to continue keeping their heads up and fighting for their homes, any real hope for immediate restitution is implausible at best. Funahashi resists offering any sense of hopeful prospects because the plight of the affected Futaba community will go on for years to come. There’s no end in sight, an unnerving reminder and warning meant for all of the world’s nuclear nations.