It would have been easier if the Nazis were monsters. If we consider the atrocities committed in service of the Final Solution, if we peel back each layer of cruelty to expose another layer even worse, the enormity of it all is nearly too much to bear.  Monsters would do those things. Would human beings do those things to other human beings? The question is staggering, and it makes it easier for us to call them monsters.

To be sure, there were psychopaths and sadists in the ranks of the Reich. Dehumanizing language from authoritarian leaders has always attracted those types. But the majority of them were what Holocaust scholar Christopher Browning referred to as ordinary men. The kinds of men who were loving spouses, good fathers, considerate neighbors, and who willingly killed innocent people. 

Was Rudolf Höss one of those ordinary men? No, but he wasn’t a slavering beast, either. He was the commandant of Auschwitz, an enthusiastic supporter of Hitler, and utterly committed to finding ways to kill people as efficiently as possible. He was also the father of five children. An occasionally faithful husband. An avid horseback rider and outdoorsman. He and his family settled next to one of the worst places in the history of humankind, and the new film The Zone of Interest gives a glimpse into their quest to build a dream life next door to a death camp.

During summer, Poland can be beautiful. The Höss family cherishes those moments together, and when we meet them, they’re frolicking next to a gorgeous river. Rudolf (Christian Friedel) regards them with satisfaction. His wife Hedwig (Sandra Hüller) watches over their sons Claus (Johann Karthaus), and Hans (Luis Noah Witte), and their daughters Inge-Brigitt (Nele Ahrensmeier) and Heideraud (Lilli Falk). For a little while, none of them needs to work to be happy.

They return home to their sprawling concrete villa. Hedwig thinks of it as their dream home. It has plenty of room for the family, their dog, Rudolf’s beloved horse, and the people they euphemistically think of as servants. Outside is a lush garden, perhaps Hedwig’s favorite spot, a place where life blooms, all the way up to a towering wall.

On the other side of the wall is Auschwitz. Rudolf goes about his work. Hedwig hosts birthday parties and gets her children off to school. They live what they think is a privileged life. They live that life in the midst of sounds from the other side of the wall. Shouts. Gunshots. Screams. The chug of constantly arriving trains. The roar of furnaces. 

The family enjoys other perks. They sift through the belongings of those who no longer need them. Hedwig tries on a fur coat, and finds an unexpected tube of lipstick. One of the boys, by flashlight, peers at his collection of gold teeth. When Hedwig’s mother Linna (Imogen Kogge) arrives for a visit, Hedwig brags of their prosperity, of Rudolf’s influence. Linna even suspects a former employer is now a resident on the other side of the wall. But Linna can never get a good night’s sleep. The carefully curated illusion of the Höss home can’t withstand the sounds, the smells, the firelight of the furnaces.

From an artistic standpoint, there are many ways into the Holocaust and Auschwitz. It’s a kind of malignant diamond, and each facet gives us a different perspective. Instead of a film about resistance, director Jonathan Glazer has made a film about proximity. To paraphrase a quote from Glazer in an interview, he’s really made two films. One you see and one you hear. While Glazer never shows us the horror directly, he shows details. A prisoner constantly cleans blood off Rudolf’s boots. Rudolf hustles his daughters out of the river when human remains float downstream. Prisoners see to the family’s every whim, but never speak, never make eye contact. When shooting family scenes, Glazer concealed cameras and encouraged the actors to move and speak naturally. It’s a smart decision, and those moments become even more jarring when juxtaposed with the sound design.

That sound design is a brilliant choice made by Glazer. For the most part, he shows us scenes of relative normality. Initially we’ll hear something in the background, a rough shout or a flat crack! and soon we can’t not hear those noises. The decision to show the family puttering in the garden while we hear muffled sounds from beyond the wall is a smart one. There’s only one moment when Glazer puts us into the middle of everything.  For maybe ten seconds, the camera stays on the impassive face of an SS guard. While we see him, we’re bludgeoned with the full sonic horror of the camp.

Glazer wrote the screenplay, and while he adapted it from the 2014 novel by Martin Amis, the adaptation is incredibly loose. In the novel, there’s primarily a love triangle between characters with fictionalized names. Not here. Instead, Glazer mostly steps away from a focus on plot and we simply follow the behavior of the family. That feels like the right choice, since Glazer is zeroing in on the banality of evil. There’s no demonic cackling, no sadistic murders. Instead, there are scenes where Rudolf gives the approval of a new crematorium design, after hearing a businesslike proposal touting its efficiency. Hedwig complains to her husband when it’s announced he’ll be transferred, as she loves her house. It subtly exposes the lie of white supremacy, since there’s nothing exceptional whatsoever about these people.

Along similar lines, the cast does excellent work at exposing the human face of the Nazis. As Rudolf, Christian Friedel plays him as mild-mannered, soft spoken. He reads bedtime stories to his daughters, takes his sons horseback riding. Friedel shows us a middle-management type, a professional climber who excitedly tells his wife about advancement opportunities. Who quietly washes his genitals after furtive sexual encounters with women who are presumably prisoners. Sandra Hüller’s Hedwig is slightly more overt in her evil. She clearly enjoys the privileges available to the Queen of Auschwitz, and when the High Command talks of transferring Rudolf, she demands he pull strings with Hitler so she and the children can stay in “her home.” Hüller and Friedel both thread the needle of their performances effectively. They’re often stoic, often frighteningly “normal.” All too human.

Should you see The Zone of Interest? This is the perfect example of a Your Mileage May Vary kind of movie. On the one hand, my wife had zero interest in either seeing the movie or reading this review. Years ago, she visited a concentration camp in Germany. She felt a miasma of evil, hidden by groves of pretty flowers. As a result, she’s not interested in films about the Holocaust since she already confronted it head on. That might be you, and you can reckon with it without a full emotional immersion. For me, though? Seeing films like this is a kind of emotional scourging, and sometimes that feels necessary to get to the truth.

There’s only one real aspect we need to understand. When we think about what happened in places like Auschwitz, the endless atrocities and coldblooded efficiency, it’s easier to think of the Nazis as monsters. The Zone of Interest quietly and inexorably disabuses us of that notion. If we call them monsters, we do it out of hate, and hate creates distance. The fact is, there is no “us” and “them.” It’s only ever been us. 



Tim Brennan
Tim has been alarmingly enthusiastic about movies ever since childhood. He grew up in Boulder and, foolishly, left Colorado to study Communications in Washington State. Making matters worse, he moved to Connecticut after meeting his too-good-for-him wife. Drawn by the Rockies and a mild climate, he triumphantly returned and settled down back in Boulder County. He's written numerous screenplays, loves hiking, and embarrassed himself in front of Samuel L. Jackson. True story.  
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