The Zone of Interest (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Zone of Interest (2023) – J. Glazer

A new movie about the Holocaust raises many questions.  Do such films trivialize or exploit the unspeakable horror of the murder of six million Jews (and others) or do they serve as a worthwhile reminder of the way that humans have and can rationalize evil acts (and/or the banality of evil, as Hannah Arendt noted) for which we should be on constant guard? Jonathan Glazer’s film invites us to view (or, in fact, listen to) the events at Auschwitz from a detached distance – unlike the visceral “you are there” experience of Son of Saul (2015) or the overwhelming amount of specific detail provided by Claude Lanzmann’s nine-hour Shoah (1985).  But knowing the true nature of the horror is a sort of pre-requisite for the dread that Glazer provokes with the Zone of Interest, named for the area around the concentration camp where the camp commandant and his family live. Christian Friedel and Sandra Hüller play the commandant and his wife, living in the shadow of the camp (we see it in the background of most outdoor shots) and living off the work and possessions of those being exterminated. As viewers, we never enter the camp and only see it from the outside but importantly hear what goes on as a distracting backdrop to the action we do see (mundane household actions and discussions of the work of the commandant, using terrible euphemisms for killing or discussing the mechanisms for killing in a matter-of-fact way).  This creates a sort of divided consciousness for viewers and leads directly to the question of what the family members (children and adults alike) must be thinking while hearing and experiencing the camp next door – in other words, you know that they can’t not know. Glazer and his team based the film only loosely on Martin Amis’s novel but also on extensive research on Commandant Rudolf Höss, Auschwitz, and the years 1943-44.   They find numerous ways to present the indirect effects of the camp, leaving the greater horror looming in the background, with only its shadow on show.  But whether this be warning, memorial, educational opportunity, or introspective public art, it only serves to present one view of the Holocaust, to make one specific point about those involved -- but perhaps that’s sufficient in the face of the enormity of the catastrophe and our inability to come to terms with it.  Notwithstanding the possibility for morbid fascination, understanding the Holocaust from all angles, with every good faith contribution warranted, seems necessary.

 

Lola Montés (1955)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Lola Montés (1955) – M. Ophuls

After the film flopped upon release, you can see why the producers wanted to cut up its flashback order to try to make it more chronological – which may have made it not unlike other widescreen colour (this time Eastmancolor) films of the 1950s.  But that would have removed some of director Max Ophuls’ clever/genius moves, as it is the contrast between the circus framing device (where she is on display toward the end of her short life, still selling herself to get by, ordered about by ringmaster Peter Ustinov) and the recalled memories of the flashbacks (more truthful or more self-deceptive is hard to say) that highlight the themes of the film.  Ophuls has used the real life story of “Lola Montez” (born Eliza Gilbert) who travelled the world as a dancer but became famous for her affairs with famous men (Franz Liszt and the King of Bavaria Ludwig I, both portrayed here, the latter by Anton Walbrook) and then played them up to commercial success (including a scandalous tour of Australia in the 1850s and a speaking tour of the US, neither in the movie, but not a circus). Her life allows Ophuls to consider his longstanding interest in sex and its social functions along with the power it grants women who otherwise had little in those days but to take this theme all the way to its final stop in degradation, shame, and humiliation (but who is really to blame?).  All of this is managed in the most glamourous of styles with expensive sets and art decoration (perhaps treating French sex symbol Martine Carol as Lola as just another prop) and Ophuls’ famous gliding camera.

 

Les Enfants du Paradis (1945)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Les Enfants du Paradis (1945) – M. Carné

Filmed during the Nazi Occupation of France but released shortly after liberation, the movie became a symbol of French Resistance/Independence (this, even though some of its participants were later accused of collaboration). This is often called one of the greatest French films of all time and the masterpiece of the director-writer team of Marcel Carné and Jacque Prevert (who also made earlier poetic realist classics such as Le Jour Se Leve, 1939, with Jean Gabin, not featured here).  Due to Nazi-imposed regulations prohibiting films longer than 90 minutes, the film is divided into two separate halves, released separately but shown together. The first “The Boulevard of Crime” introduces us to the Parisian theatre district of 1828 and the many important characters:  Garance (played by Arletty), the much sought after beauty who has seen it all; Baptiste Debureau (Jean-Louis Barrault), the pantomime artist who falls for Garance; Frédérick Lemaître (Pierre Brasseur), the charismatic and flamboyant wannabe actor; and Pierre-François Lacenaire (Marcel Herrand), the philosopher-criminal resigned to his own fate. Late in this half we also meet Édouard comte de Montray (Louis Salou), another suitor for Garance (they all are, whether seriously or not), wealthy beyond reason. The melodramatic plot leaves us hanging as Garance is arrested as an accomplice for an attempted murder arranged by Lecenaire – but may have an out.  The second film, “The Man in White”, opens six years later.  The characters have all improved their lots, with Baptiste and Lemaître especially famous.  Life has moved on without Garance, who has disappeared.  When she does return to Paris, the plot mechanics move inexorably in a seemingly pre-ordained direction and end abruptly with the conclusions left for viewers to imagine. The film is justly famous, partly for its amazing sets (by Alexandre Trauner) and mise-en-scene, but also for its portrayal of the many varieties of theatrical performance, from base to lofty, that lend the film its main theme – the thin line between art and life, acting and reality.  There may or may not be metaphors here related to the plight of France in WWII but the film allows for many interpretations. In addition to the impressive acting on display, that’s another reason why it is great.