Jonah Naplan January 27, 2024
The eerily haunting “The Zone of Interest” works like a magic trick. Centering on a couple of horrible people during one of the most truly despicable periods in our human history, the film, directed by Jonathan Glazer, has the bravura of something like a science fiction epic or a thriller but is actually a Holocaust biopic set through the viewpoint of a group of Germans who are not only responsible for this mass genocide but are the ringleaders of the cult, just a rank or two below Adolf Hitler himself.
The crux of the magic trick is that somehow, curiously, we’re compelled to these evil human beings and hang onto their every action as they move about their home in Auschwitz situated just next door to a Nazi concentration camp. The family themselves, however, are Nazis; father Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel) is the commandant of that very patch of horror, and his wife Hedwig (Sandra Hüller) is equally as vile and proud of it, too. They’ve got a couple of kids of varying ages, and part of the haunt comes from wondering how much they, as minors, understand what’s taking place on the other side of the garden wall. We’re never shown the violence of the concentration camp, but we always hear it in shrieks, screams, cries and gunshots. The duty of the viewer is to imagine a visual, which is never difficult to do, making it all the more frightening. The family doesn’t seem to mind the bloody ruckus either, going about their everyday lives with the agony fixed as background noise, the same way one might listen to music while doing yard work.
The nonchalance is haunting. The disregard for human life is infuriating. We search for some minor shred of humanity in these characters and come up short. That Glazer has directed a film about villains is a bold but effective choice, and in its most powerful moments, “The Zone of Interest” becomes a metaphysical horse in motion that runs you through scenes of a marriage, as well as childhood and the life of a highly privileged family with a large dream house and servants. There’s not much of a definitive plot; the film boasts conflicts, resolutions, opportunities, character beats, and metaphors but never follows a complete throughline. The ambiguity is alluring, mysterious, intriguing even. Watching the movie reminds you of all the hidden evil that lurks behind the dark corners of our world, and angers you to think that we as a society allowed something like this to happen and for so long.
The Höss family doesn’t seem to care. Rudolf and Hedwig raise their children as if nothing’s wrong—which, to them, there isn’t anything wrong—playing with them at the lake, reading them bedtime stories, and hosting parties in their luxurious backyard that includes a swimming pool and an extensive garden. When her mother comes for a visit, Hedwig gives her a tour of the backyard, emphasizing all the hard work she’s put into making it immaculate. Lines about the necessity of a central heater, who might be imprisoned over the wall, and the clothes that have been stolen from the Jews all drive home the point that these people are going beyond the line of subjugation; they’re not just torturing and killing these people for fun—they’re doing it because it benefits themselves.
A lead performance from Friedel is enigmatic in a way that’s frightening. We get the feeling that deep down inside he knows what he’s doing is inhumane, but the fact that he continues doing it anyway doesn’t make him any better. Hüller is utterly beguiling in a role that requires her to reflect the epitome of pure evil, while still being a caring mother to her children. The unsettling truth is that without this Holocaust backdrop, you wouldn’t know anything was ever out of place; Hüller’s character skips merrily along, living her dream life, and is vocally opposed to leaving it behind when it’s suggested that her husband may be transferred somewhere else. She wants to live here. Does she take comfort in knowing that those she denounces are being exterminated right next door to where she’s just lazily lounging on the couch? Your personal interrogation of the character is inspired by how Glazer juxtaposes Hedwig’s first world problems and minor inconveniences with the pleas for life from the other side. We know the woman is morally corrupt, but why? And where did that extremism come from?
It’s not just watching these characters that makes “The Zone of Interest” an unnerving experience, it’s the atmosphere they occupy, too. The cinematographer Łukasz Żal often fixes the camera in one position as characters argue, discuss, or sift through their thoughts, moving about the frame like animals in an enclosure. The film is as icy as the people who inhabit it; instead of having the camera move with the characters, it only watches what they do, and by having it remain still, Glazer proves that the fly on the wall is only observing, not in any way in support of what it’s watching. It’s not moving with the characters. It’s not with the characters.
Visual cues and blocking demonstrate the values and hierarchy of the household. Hedwig never gives anything a second thought and is blunt with her opinions. Glazer often positions Rudolf as having to look up at her and so do the kids. The husband and wife sleep in separate beds in the same room. They spend many nights not sleeping but staring across at each other. You can feel the quiet, the tension, the emptiness. “The Zone of Interest” is not afraid to have long stretches without any dialogue or sometimes even imagery. It opens with a black screen that lasts for probably two minutes. Is there anything to show? The scariest intimations depict the family sitting at the dinner table, outside, etc, with the dark buildings of the camp looming in the background. These people are living in the shadow of death. They can escape at any time, but choose not to.
The real MVPs here are the sound design by Johnnie Burn (who’s worked with Jonathan Glazer on “Birth” and “Under the Skin”) and the score by Mica Levi. Both technical aspects set the thematic table for all these cruel intentions. The low rumbling, the cries of agony, the sounds of life next to death; it’s all of a thoughtful artistic piece. The interplay between quiet moments and scenes of turmoil are brilliantly composed by editor Paul Watts, and his narrative jump to present day at the end of the film is a catalyst for theoretical discussion of the hows and whys, and if they even matter at all.
“The Zone of Interest” will not escape you, and it’s specifically designed as such. If it’s not the visuals that live on, it will be the noises they make. Inherently, the Höss family isn’t scary, but that’s only because we can see and track their every move. Even if they could be considered actual people—assuming that the average person has some incentive for human rights—they’re more normal than anything they’re surrounded by. We’re more disgusted by how their bodies fill the screen than scared. After all, it’s what we can’t see that’s the real nightmare.
Now playing in select theaters.