Netflix’s latest WWII drama, My Name is Sara, has emerged as the platform’s most powerful true story of 2025, gripping viewers with its unflinching portrayal of a 13-year-old girl’s desperate bid for survival amid the horrors of Nazi-occupied Poland. Directed by Eli Niv, the film, streaming since October 28, chronicles the real-life ordeal of Sara Recht, who, in 1942, watched her family slaughtered in a pogrom before fleeing into the forests, stripped of her identity, home, and innocence. Critics hail it as “a haunting masterpiece that lingers long after the credits,” blending raw historical accuracy with emotional devastation that leaves audiences breathless.
Sara’s journey begins in the shtetl of Lubaczow, where the Nazis’ invasion shatters her world in an instant of unimaginable violence. Forced to adopt a false identity as a Polish Catholic girl named Sara Zielinska, she navigates a labyrinth of fear, scavenging for food in the woods, dodging Gestapo patrols, and relying on fleeting acts of kindness from strangers who risk everything to hide her. Niv, drawing from Recht’s 1995 memoir and survivor interviews, crafts a narrative that eschews melodrama for stark intimacy: the girl’s wide-eyed terror as she whispers prayers in the dark, the gnawing hunger that blurs her vision, and the soul-crushing isolation of a child who must suppress her own name to live. “Survival isn’t heroic—it’s savage,” Niv told Variety, emphasizing how the film strips away romanticized notions of wartime bravery.
At its core, My Name is Sara is a testament to resilience, with young Zuzanna Szadkowski delivering a performance of quiet ferocity that earned her a Golden Globe nod. Szadkowski, 14 at filming, captures the girl’s transformation from innocent child to cunning survivor, her eyes reflecting a mix of terror and tenacity that makes every close-up a gut punch. Supporting roles add depth: Polish actress Joanna Trzcinska as a farm woman who shelters Sara, her own moral compass fracturing under occupation’s strain, and veteran actor Piotr Adamczyk as a conflicted collaborator whose fleeting mercy hints at humanity’s fragile spark. The cinematography by Pawel Flis, shot in Poland’s Bieszczady forests, evokes a claustrophobic beauty—the golden autumn leaves mocking the encroaching winter of despair.
What elevates My Name is Sara beyond typical Holocaust tales is its focus on the psychological toll, not just the physical. Recht’s real story, verified by Yad Vashem, underscores the theme of identity theft as survival: Sara buries her Jewish name, her faith, her songs, only to reclaim them in fragmented memories that sustain her through 18 months of evasion. Niv weaves in subtle motifs of mirrors and shadows, symbolizing the fractured self, culminating in a finale that doesn’t offer tidy closure but a poignant reflection on endurance’s cost.
Premiering to 12 million global streams in its first week, the film has sparked 3.5 million #SaraSurvival posts, with viewers praising its restraint. The Guardian‘s Peter Bradshaw called it “a quiet scream of defiance,” while Variety noted, “Szadkowski’s eyes tell a story words can’t.” For Netflix, amid 2025’s content renaissance, My Name is Sara is a triumph—a reminder that true power lies in stories that force us to confront the darkness we dare not name.
