In her documentary Hot Water, filmmaker Lizabeth Rogers investigates groundwater contamination in America’s heartland. This film considers uranium mining and nuclear power, the waste both industries produce, and the long-term impacts on public health.
Opening with the post-war United States as context, Rogers laments the level of public trust in government at that time. With Cold War-era civil defense reels as a backdrop, the film explores the development of the atom bomb and uranium mining on American soil. The documentary crew, which first visited South Dakota for the filming of On Sacred Ground (2009), returns to the South Dakota Badlands once again to investigate contaminated water sources and their impacts on the Pourier family, which has been hard-hit by the impacts of alpha radiation exposure.
From here, the film pans out in scope, keeping a toehold in the Pourier family’s battle. While groundwater contamination is the film’s focus (radiation causes literal hot water from contaminated taps, viewers will learn), the issue balloons far beyond unsafe drinking water.
The government in the 1950s led Americans to believe that radiation exposure from atomic bomb development was reasonable and safe. With public trust at an all-time high, miners, military, and ordinary citizens thought the government and their employers were taking appropriate cautions to protect their health. We now know that not only were the levels of radiation exposure dangerous but that once exposed, living things accumulate radiation levels over time: the impact is cumulative and does not wane.
Pulling back further, filmmakers examine the expansive impact of contaminated water. Not only are residents exposed via contaminated aquifers, but so are livestock and agricultural products, which are exported and consumed internationally. And this is the case throughout much of the American “bread basket,” where much of the nation’s food supply is sourced. Radioactive contamination spreads not just through water, but particles are also carried by air. And perhaps even more alarmingly, through generations: humans and animals exposed to radioactivity can pass on the effects to their offspring.
Radiation exposure is not going anywhere, either. Though uranium mining and nuclear power have taken a back seat in American energy and military efforts more recently, the waste products of both industries continue to impact the country. Filmmakers note that about 38 million people are impacted by radioactive waste and that the water in seven states continues to fail safety testing. Waste sites will continue operation for decades to come, and taxpayers spend billions of dollars each year funding cleanup efforts.
Rogers and her crew question the public trust that brought the country to this dangerous juncture. By illuminating just how many citizens live near cleanup sites and uranium sludge, the filmmakers of Hot Water point out that while middle America continues to endure radioactive water contamination, citizens nearly everywhere are at some risk of exposure.
Cancer causes 83% of atomic veteran deaths, and while workers trusted their best interests were being protected, we now know differently. Their descendants—and anyone drinking contaminated water or eating contaminated grain—are still suffering. This film stresses the importance of critical thinking and self-advocacy, as well as a healthy skepticism of those who stand to benefit most from any industry’s profits.
Why would it be daring to show this film?
Inherently political, this film focuses on parts of the country known for conservative voting. Visiting places like the Dakotas, Nebraska, Oklahoma, and others, filmmakers pose stern questions about trust in government and the energy industry. If we so heartily believed in the safety of radiation exposure in the ‘50s, what are Americans exposed to presently that could have a resonating effect on public health we aren’t aware of yet?
States most impacted by the dangers of uranium and radiation poisoning are also most likely to receive this film as a liberal attack on the government. Librarians are known and loved for our intellectual rabble-rousing, but those considering screening should be aware of potential repercussions at the local level, especially those that receive state and municipal funding.
What academic subjects would this film be suitable for?
Again with a cautious eye toward local political blowback, high school curricula could benefit from this film as a compelling take on critical thinking. History and social studies instructors may choose this as a supplement to many lesson plans, and at the university level, this film stands strong as a research source.
How would audiences react to this screening?
There is no doubt that viewers will be moved by this documentary. Days and weeks after watching, this writer can’t stop thinking about a particular rancher whose animals were impacted– and then processed into food for unsuspecting consumers. While the historical context of this film is crucial for understanding how we got here, it’s important to note that we’re still here and will continue to be for decades. This piece is a solid stepping-off point for community or classroom discussions.