Glazer’s newest masterpiece is a terrifying reflection on complicity
The hesitation that I had, and I imagine many people will have, about seeing The Zone of Interest was the fear of having more Holocaust imagery seared into my memory. There have been many Holocaust films made, all difficult to watch, and almost all important to see. It’s necessary that films, books, and oral testimonials accurately depict Nazi atrocities, so that they are never forgotten. That being said, it’s hard to be “in the mood” for a Holocaust film. Shortly into watching The Zone of Interest, I understood that the film’s intentions were not the same as previous Holocaust films. The Zone of Interest is as much about what you do see as what you don’t see, which is just as harrowing, if not more so. The film depicts the banality of evil, showing us a story of chilling complacency.
The Zone of Interest is based on Martin Amis’s historical novel of the same name. While Amis applied fictional names to the characters he based on historical figures, director Jonathan Glazer (Under the Skin) renames the characters by their historical counterparts to reinstate a degree of authenticity. The story focuses on the Höss family, who live in their version of utopian domesticity —a mid-sized house with a large yard and vegetable garden, and a nearby serene river. Directly beyond the garden wall, however, is Auschwitz, which Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel) oversees as Nazi comandante. His wife, Hedwig Höss (Sandra Hüller), spends her time leisurely, entertaining guests, tending to the garden, and looking through heaps of precious belongings taken from Jewish prisoners. Their children are constantly at play and tease each other, if they’re not at school. Due to his “success” at Auschwitz, Rudolf learns that he’s being transferred to another camp, which would disrupt his family’s domestic bliss. Sandra Hüller (Anatomy of a Fall) captures Hedwig’s desire for domestic comfort to a chilling degree, and Friedel (Amour Fou) portrays Rudolf with taciturn menace. And yet, there’s nothing overly dramatic about the family’s story, so Glazer uses its mundanity to shape a disturbing observational narrative.
The film is naturalist in its staging, lighting, and pace. Activities within the Höss residence, from turning off the lights at night, to setting a table for supper, are presented as methodical, if not commonplace. Of course, the film’s setting is anything but normal. The term “zone of interest” is how Nazis referred to the area directly surrounding Auschwitz. The term’s dull ambiguity is the point. Yet, the smokestacks from the concentration camp’s crematorium loom over the garden wall. The sounds of gunshots, dogs barking, and terrified screams permeate the Höss home without end, to the point that they become white noise, even as the children play in their rooms. The family goes about their daily lives not unaware of the horrific acts taking place on the other side of the wall, but expectant of it, immune to it, indifferent to it.
As is his directorial tendency, Glazer inserts stylistic flourishes and narrative breaks to create a sensory experience that transcends what’s shown on screen. The score, composed by Mica Levi (Jackie), thrusts the audience into an immersive soundscape in the few places where it’s allowed to fill the film’s natural silence. The film’s patient pacing, precise framing, and sound design are all intentional. The way in which Glazer decides to end the film, though perhaps polarizing to many viewers, is gut-wrenching and will stick with you long after the credits finally roll. History repeats itself, and The Zone of Interest will conjure discussions about societal complicity being as present today as it was back then. This point of view, and the film’s exacting artistry, make it the most challenging but important film to see this year.
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The Zone of Interest opens in limited release on Friday, Dec 15th and will expand in January.
