Writing, directing, and producing a movie is a difficult undertaking. Films take on the enormous task of representing the world—all its sensations and nuances, beauties and horrors—in a very limited medium. Considering the added difficulty of portraying an event as appalling and horrific as the Holocaust,  an accurate depiction through film seems nearly impossible. In fact, it is impossible. And yet, film is still the best way to keep the memory of the Holocaust alive. Relatively few people will read textbooks, listen to interviews, take seminars, or go to museums, but everyone watches movies. Cinema, though imperfect, is the optimal form of media to connect people to the Holocaust.

This month, Cinema du Parc makes an honourable attempt to embrace as many Holocaust narratives as possible in their showcase, About the Holocaust: A selection of rare films. The movies range from the very old to the very recent, from documentaries to Hollywood blockbusters. Though no film will ever be able to portray the Holocaust with complete accuracy, this wide assortment of attempts generates a relatively holistic interpretation of the Holocaust. Acknowledging that it cannot be condensed into one narrative, one victim, or one emotion, Cinema du Parc hopes that presenting all these films collectively will be the best attempt.

The short French documentary, Night and Fog, asks “what hope do we have of truly capturing this reality?” The narrator states that “words are insufficient,” but continues nonetheless, attempting to find the language that can even begin to describe the Holocaust. Like many other films of this genre, Night and Fog is a paradox that acknowledges the impossibility and hopelessness of relaying the Holocaust through film, but tries anyway. The struggle to achieve the impossible is the most important thing we can do as a post-WWII generation.

So if Holocaust films are inaccurate, then why make them? The films do not exist just to make us cry, or to make sure we never forget—the responsibility of Holocaust movies is to trigger our innermost sense of humanity. We must ask ourselves, as The Reader so bluntly puts it, “What would you have done?” Thanks to Cinema du Parc’s wide collection of films, there is no shortage of situations where we can, and must, ask ourselves this question.

Each movie shows different individuals in different circumstances, and they all have to make moral and ethical choices that define them as human beings. In Sophie’s Choice, Meryl Streep’s character begs, “don’t make me choose”—in the kind of world we want to live in, we shouldn’t have to make the kinds of choices that she made. Yet, movies force us to imagine just that kind of world. Cinema thrusts our latent, most basic levels of humanity to the surface; it encourages us to evaluate ourselves through the perspectives of various characters, so that we will be prepared to make the right choices.

Experiencing past attrocities through cinema makes us strive to be more humane in the present. In this way, we can reassure ourselves that we—as individuals and as a contemporary society—will never let such events happen in the future.

Holocaust films will always fail in the sense that the topic simply cannot be perfectly translated to film. Whether or not they succeed depends on what we learn from them—not about the Holocaust, but about ourselves. Because, as The Reader asks, “if people like you don’t learn from what happened to people like me, then what the hell is the point of anything?”