Amid rising misinformation and political division, alumnus director Frei (Genesis 2.0), follows three scientists who traced the origins of SARS to bats in a Yunnan cave, only to have their warnings about future pandemics ignored. When COVID-19 strikes, they are thrust into the spotlight, facing attacks and global blame.
Christian Frei’s Blame enters the conversation around the origins of Covid-19 with a promising foundation: an insider's look at the lives and research of three virologists who have been swept into a storm of misinformation, political opportunism, and public outrage. Presented under the banner of truth-seeking, this Swiss documentary aims to demystify the scientific search for Covid-19’s origin. It seeks to show how falsehoods can flourish even in the absence of evidence, and how personal and political agendas can overpower well-established facts. However, what begins as an intelligent and potentially powerful narrative about science in the age of disinformation gradually loses clarity, as the film seems torn between telling the story of its scientists and making a sweeping editorial argument.
Divided into four chapters, Blame centres on three leading figures in coronavirus research: Linfa Wang in Singapore, Zhengli Shi in Wuhan, and Peter Daszak in New York. These scientists have spent decades investigating the links between bats and zoonotic viruses, issuing early warnings about the potential for new pandemics well before Covid-19 took hold. Their collaboration and shared history provide a rich backdrop for exploring how their research became entangled in a wave of conspiracy theories—particularly the lab-leak hypothesis that gained global traction despite a lack of supporting evidence.
The scientists are positioned as thoughtful, sincere professionals—dedicated to understanding the mechanisms through which viruses jump from animals to humans. Their 2003 work on SARS, which traced the virus back to bats, was foundational in understanding coronaviruses. When the Covid-19 pandemic began, their past work suddenly became the subject of intense scrutiny. Shi, in particular, was targeted by accusations that the virus had been engineered in her lab at the Wuhan Institute of Virology. These claims, though never substantiated, were repeated so frequently in media and political arenas that they began to shape public perception.
Frei uses evocative still imagery to anchor the film in the emotional and visual reality of the pandemic—empty streets, overwhelmed hospitals, and masked faces. These moments do well to remind viewers of the human cost and confusion of the early pandemic period. However, while the cinematography offers emotional resonance, the narrative itself becomes increasingly didactic. Frei frequently interjects with voiceover commentary, offering interpretations and opinions rather than allowing the subjects or the facts to speak fully for themselves. In doing so, he unintentionally undermines the objectivity the film purports to champion.
The film’s biggest tension lies in its dual identity: part exposé, part personal defence. On one hand, it seeks to show how scientific voices were marginalised in favour of sensationalism and political spin. On the other, it leans heavily into the personal stories of the three scientists, particularly Daszak, who faced public vilification, Congressional hearings, and even death threats. These experiences are significant and chilling, but Blame often surfaces them only briefly before moving on. Moments that beg for deeper emotional or psychological exploration—such as the receipt of a threatening note—are presented quickly and without meaningful follow-up.
Instead of examining the implications of these attacks, Frei reiterates his core message: there is no evidence that Covid-19 was man-made. This point is valid and crucial, yet it is repeated so often that it begins to lose impact, especially in the absence of new insights or supporting detail. Much of the argument comes directly from Frei’s narration, which leads to a feeling that the film is “telling the telling”—summarising discussions and controversies rather than immersing the audience in them.
What Blame presents is not inaccurate, but its format weakens its credibility. Rather than illustrating how misinformation spreads, the film repeatedly asserts that it does, which is a less persuasive technique. The documentary format is most effective when it reveals, not when it instructs. This approach may leave viewers who are sceptical—or simply curious—wanting more transparency and evidence to assess independently.
Additionally, while Frei introduces compelling themes such as the politicisation of science, the weaponisation of disinformation, and the global implications of scientific distrust, these ideas are noted rather than developed. The film mentions the media’s role, touches on the far-right’s political gains, and references global environmental instability—but each is treated more like a bullet point than a thread to be woven through the story. At times, it feels like Blame is two films in one: a biographical look at the lives of three scientists, and a broader critique of post-truth politics. Unfortunately, it doesn’t fully commit to either.
There is also a notable imbalance in tone. The film positions Wang, Shi, and Daszak as the victims of unfair treatment—an understandable stance, given the evidence provided. But it does not examine whether there are legitimate questions worth asking about transparency in scientific research, or the communication gaps that allowed such theories to gain traction. This omission may appear as bias to viewers who are seeking a more comprehensive analysis.
Frei’s intention to defend science and scientists in a climate of misinformation is admirable. His subjects are clearly passionate, and their work is crucial to global public health. However, the film does not trust the audience to follow complex reasoning without constant narration. It frequently lectures instead of exploring, and asserts rather than investigates. In doing so, it risks replicating the same shortcomings it criticises—over-simplification, selective framing, and a lack of independent verification.
At 122 minutes, Blame also struggles with pacing. Much of the middle section could have been tightened to maintain narrative momentum. The film’s structure, while clearly marked by chapter headings, does not help in organising or deepening the ideas introduced. Instead, it often circles back to points already made, resulting in a film that feels longer than necessary and more repetitive than insightful.
Blame offers a necessary and timely subject, supported by access to highly relevant voices and strong visuals. It provides a reminder of the dangers posed by misinformation and the challenges faced by those working in science under public scrutiny. Yet, for a film so committed to defending truth, it often relies more on tone and assertion than on transparent fact-building. With more balance and less commentary, it could have delivered a sharper and more credible critique. As it stands, Blame is an intriguing but uneven work—part scientific portrait, part political essay—still searching for its own centre.
Directed by Christian Frei | 122 mins | Switzerland | English | Asia Pacific Premiere – In Truth We Trust Category
Screening at the Doc Edge documentary festival, in Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch and online from 25 June.