Nuremberg hit theaters Nov. 7 and has made a bit of a splash. It’s generating an interesting discussion around the depiction of evil, its intentional parallels to the modern era (i.e. the Trump administration) and representational responsibility — on the edge of being controversial. Whether you find its thematic treatment thoughtful or irresponsible, the 95 percent audience score and 70 percent critic score on Rotten Tomatoes is a testament to, if nothing else, the solid execution of the film.
Nuremberg is a historical courtroom drama that traces the relationship between psychiatrist Douglas Kelley (Rami Malek) and Hitler’s second in command, Hermann Goring (Russell Crowe), as he awaits his trial for war crimes. When Goring arrives, Kelley is assigned essentially as his therapist, the nominal purpose of which being to monitor against the risk of suicide. Kelley develops a great empathy with him, and as he along with the rest of the world learns of the horrors of the concentration camp, we toddle around the question of whether Goring was responsible or even knew of it (which seems ridiculous to us now). Ultimately Kelley arrives at a quandary of whether to maintain his professional vow of privacy or facilitate the conviction of Goring.
Before digging into the heart of the material, the film should be recognized for its technical mastery. Crowe gives a very memorable performance as a charismatic narcissist; he employs a smile unique to this character where it feels almost as if he is entertained by his own cleverness, savoring his own charm. Malek feels naturalistic in his role as a sympathizing psychologist and develops something akin to Stockholm syndrome, ironically enough as Goring sits in the cell. The film looks very good, firm in its choice of sepias and generally low-key side lighting that is sort of what you imagine in your head when you think of a historical drama.
What makes this film radical, separating it from any World War II/Holocaust film I can think of, is its humanization of Goring. One person online described walking out of the theater because they found it so offensive. He is a likeable character and written that way intentionally. Goring is characterized with strong wit, affably confident — “I’m the most fit man in the world. My wife tells me so,” — and as an audience, we are made to perceive him the same way Kelley does. There have been other movies that treat Nazis as complex characters, such as Hans Landa in Inglorious Basterds or Amon Goeth in Schindler’s List, although they are still made to be unredeemable. There have even been movies such as The Pianist where we are presented with one genuinely good-hearted Nazi, the one good apple in a sea of filth. But I can’t think of another film that takes the most culpable figure in the third Reich aside from Hitler and sits him up next to us as if having a genial cup of tea, like he’s Forrest Gump on the bench amiably winning our affection.
The film ultimately isn’t supporting people like Goring, however. With the ending providing a sort of polemic about how people like Goring are not limited to Nazi Germany, and need to be surveilled against even in America, it is attempting to accurately portray evil as an invisible kernel that can’t be discerned easily in things like conversation. This ending attempts to pose a warning about current trends in contemporary America, and many critics have actually expressed frustration with this as overly blunt and half-developed parallel.
There is a particular emphasis on the emigration of Jews, the film zooming in on the word as Goring uses this to argue he did not support the concentration camps. The focus very much feels like an attempted commentary on ICE, and if we continue the parallel, that ICE’s pretense of deportation may well develop into full-fledged extermination through its detention centers. But, as Kelley argues in the film at a different moment, there is a difference between the intentional decimation of German Jewish citizens and US Japanese internment camps, which are further different from ICE detention centers of non-citizens. And to equate it is arguably disrespectful to the depth of the horror of the Holocaust (not to diminish the dangers and poor living conditions of ICE detention centers). At one point, Goring even says, “Hitler made us feel German again.” The film gives little nudges as if to say, “look, it’s so similar,” without digging into any real policy or substantive argument to delineate exactly where our modern history is falling into the past. It more works to get nods from those who would already agree with the statement rather than earnestly searching for a pattern.
Other critics have called the film “staid,” “plodding” and like a “West Wing Episode.” I have to agree that the film, outside of how it characterizes Goring, is an incredibly typical historical drama. We follow a bunch of ‘talking heads’ over shot-reverse-shots, and receive expository arguments somewhat impersonally from actors used as mouthpieces not so much as characters. It does not challenge in its structure or utilize the visual power of film in the way other movies including those about World War II and the Holocaust have; using the cinematic medium in a uniquely fitting way to address the issue, such as The Zone of Interest, Night and Fog or Schindler’s List. In some ways, it feels close to some made-for-TV historical movies I have seen and of standard biopics or sports movies where the team is down, and then at the vital moment they score the touchdown.
That being said, I came away thinking, “That was a good movie.” It is highly entertaining, especially from the performances, and it gives you a thing or two to think about. It is very solid, perhaps not revolutionary. While the parallel to America is a bit lazily pinned on, the representation of evil feels realistic. Three and a half to four Letterboxd Stars.
Tommy Welch is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. He can be reached at tsw62@cornell.edu.
