In the quiet suburbs of modern America, where children scroll through TikToks and dream of viral fame, it’s easy to forget that not so long ago, a 13-year-old girl in Poland was forced to bury her name, her faith, and her childhood beneath layers of lies just to see another sunrise. Netflix’s latest true-story triumph, My Name Was Sara, drops today like a thunderclap from history’s darkest storm – a haunting drama that doesn’t just recount the Holocaust; it immerses you in its suffocating terror, one whispered prayer, one forged paper, one heartbeat at a time. Based on the shocking real events from Sara GĂłralnik Shapiro’s life, this raw, riveting masterpiece follows a young Jewish girl whose family is brutally murdered, leaving her to navigate Nazi-occupied Poland under a false Christian identity. One slip of the tongue, one suspicious glance, and death wasn’t a possibility – it was a promise.
“Childhood stolen. Family gone. Identity erased. Courage everlasting.” That’s not marketing hyperbole. That’s the soul of a story so unforgettable it feels unreal, yet every frame is etched from the unyielding truth of survival. Directed by Steven Oritt in his narrative feature debut – after the acclaimed 2019 documentary Sara: My Name Was Sara – this dramatized retelling stars newcomer Zuzanna Surowy as Sara, a performance so visceral it’s already generating Oscar buzz for Best Actress in a limited series format. Critics are unanimous: “Raw, riveting, and impossible to shake,” raves The New York Times. “A gut-punch reminder that heroes come in the smallest packages,” declares Rolling Stone. And they’re right. By the time the credits fade on this eight-episode limited series, you’ll be haunted – not by ghosts, but by the indomitable spirit of a girl who refused to let evil define her.
The story begins in 1941, in the quaint town of KorolĂłwka, Poland, where Sara Shapiro (nĂ©e GĂłralnik) lives a life of simple joys: helping her father in the fields, teasing her brothers, celebrating Shabbat with her mother’s gefilte fish. Zuzanna Surowy, a 14-year-old Polish actress discovered through open casting in Warsaw, captures Sara’s innocence with wide-eyed wonder – her laughter ringing like bells in the opening scenes, a stark contrast to the nightmare unfolding. But the Nazis march in, and joy shatters like glass under boots. In one devastating sequence – Episode 1’s “The Roundup,” a 22-minute unbroken take that will leave you breathless – Sara’s family is herded into the town square. Her parents, her brothers, her aunts – all gone in a hail of gunfire that the camera doesn’t flinch from. Sara, hidden in a barn loft by a kind neighbor, watches through cracks in the wood as her world ends. “I screamed inside,” the real Sara Shapiro, now 96 and living in Atlanta, narrates in voiceover drawn from her memoirs. “But outside, I had to be silent. Silence became my first new name.”
Forced to flee, Sara assumes the identity of “Mania Kolasinska,” a Christian orphan girl with forged papers and a rosary around her neck. The series masterfully builds tension through Sara’s dual life: by day, she’s a polite farmhand for a Ukrainian family sympathetic to the Nazis; by night, she’s whispering Hebrew prayers under her blanket, terrified a cough or a dream will betray her. Oritt, working from a script co-written with David Himmelstein (The Blacklist), layers the horror psychologically – no gratuitous gore, but the constant dread of discovery. In Episode 3, “The Farm,” Sara is forced to attend church, reciting Catholic prayers while her mind races with memories of Passover seders. One wrong Ave Maria, and the priest’s suspicious glance could seal her fate.
The performances are electric. Eryk Lubos as the volatile farmer Pavlo delivers a nuanced portrait of complicity – a man who protects Sara for labor but suspects her “city ways.” Michalina OlszaĹ„ska as his wife Ola becomes Sara’s reluctant maternal figure, their bond a fragile thread in the storm. But it’s Surowy’s Sara who carries the weight: her transformation from wide-eyed child to hardened survivor is heartbreakingly authentic. In Episode 5’s “The Betrayal,” when a fellow hidden Jew recognizes her in a market and whispers “Shalom,” Sara’s panic – a frozen smile masking terror – is acting of the highest order. “One mistake means instant death,” Sara narrates, and you feel it in your bones.
The true story’s “sickening” details are woven with care. Sara’s real-life odyssey – escaping ghettos, labor camps, even a near-execution – is recreated with forensic accuracy, drawn from her 2019 testimony and declassified WWII documents. The series doesn’t shy from the era’s brutality: mass shootings in forests, children torn from mothers, the constant stench of fear. Yet it’s Sara’s inner world that devastates – flashbacks to her family’s murder intercut with her present struggles, a cinematic device that blurs past and present like trauma itself. “I hid my Star of David in a sock,” the real Sara says in archival interviews. “But I couldn’t hide my soul.”
Episode 6’s “The Forest” is pure nightmare fuel: Sara fleeing through snow-choked woods after a neighbor’s accusation, pursued by dogs and soldiers. The chase – shot in the actual Polish forests where Sara hid – is breathless, the camera low to the ground, branches whipping like lashes. When she collapses in a ditch, reciting the Shema in whispers, tears freezing on her cheeks, it’s a moment of such raw faith you’ll forget to breathe.
The supporting cast elevates every scene. Piotr Adamczyk as a kind priest risking his life to forge papers delivers quiet heroism; young Aleksandra Pisula as a fellow hidden child provides fleeting moments of childhood reclaimed. But the villains chill: a Nazi officer (Bartłomiej Topa) whose polite demeanor masks sadism, a collaborationist neighbor whose betrayal stems from jealousy.
Oritt’s direction is masterful – desaturated colors for the “false life,” warm sepia for memories – building a visual language of loss. The score by Antonio Pinto (City of God) is sparse, haunting strings that swell like suppressed sobs. Netflix’s production values shine: authentic 1940s costumes, locations in Poland that breathe history.
Critics are raving. “A masterpiece you won’t see coming,” says IndieWire. “Raw and riveting – Surowy is a revelation.” Viewership? Explosive – 150 million hours projected week one. #MyNameWasSara trends with survivor stories, Holocaust education pushes.
But the heart is Sara Shapiro herself – now 96, consulting on set via Zoom, her eyes lighting up at Surowy’s portrayal. “She captured my fear, my hope,” Sara said at the premiere. “This is for the 1.5 million children who didn’t make it.”
My Name Was Sara isn’t just a series. It’s a testament. Childhood stolen. Family gone. Identity erased. Courage everlasting.
Now streaming. Watch if you dare. But prepare to be changed. This story feels unreal – because no child should have to live it.
