A scene from the movie “The Zone of Interest.” (A24/TNS)
By Harrison Ferger
“The trouble with Eichmann was precisely that so many were like him, and that the many were neither perverted nor sadistic, that they were, and still are, terribly and terrifyingly normal.” This is what political theorist Hannah Arendt said about Nazi leader Adolf Eichmann in her book of compiled essays “Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil.” In these articles Arendt would coin the phrase “banality of evil,” which is the theory that where evil truly lies is in ordinary people, who do so without awareness, care or choice. Jonathan Glazer’s fourth feature, “The Zone of Interest” tackles these ideas to their fullest extent. Not only exposing the evils of the past but also creating one of the great indictments of modern societies inhumanity.
“The Zone of Interest” feels outside of the category of “Narrative Feature.” Loosely based on the Martin Amis novel, what narrative that is here is slight. Instead of drawing in the audience in terms of empathy, Glazer instead attacks our apathy. Lulling the audience into a trance from the beginning, as the film starts with a minute of a black screen. Only the growl of Mica Levi’s score can be heard. Sound editor Johnnie Burns told A’ Frame, “The opening says, ‘Use your ears,'” which is a theme that follows through the film. Spending years building a hellish soundscape, Burns brings extraordinary context to every moment. You begin to question everything you hear. Slowly, what we hear carries more weight than what we see.
Through the visuals we experience the film as a voyeuristic look at a family. Shot as if it were a reality tv show; Glazer, alongside cinematographer Łukasz Żal, used an array of hidden cameras to capture the family in and around the house, not too dissimilar from those used in the “hunting” sequences in Glazer’s previous feature, “Under the Skin.” Only filmed with natural light and little to no camera movement, the audience is stripped of any surface-level pleasure. The story is simple. The father (Christian Friedel) is being sent to another location for some time and must leave the family. This causes some strife between the two as the wife (Sandra Huller) intends on staying and raising their family in “their home.” While mundane, there are moments when the family storyline itself suddenly will grab your attention but it’s just on the edges. Whether it is a boy cleaning boots as they drip with blood or a woman’s fear as she carries a glass, we are never hidden from the fact of what’s occurring right over the wall.
Alongside the family story is what feels like the inverse in narrative. Shot in haunting “night vision,” we see a young girl who is leaving apples for the prisoners of the camps in hopes of helping in any way. Through this kindness, discovering a song written by one of the prisoners. One of the few times in the film where you truly feel someone behind the camera, in what feels like an “authorless” work for most of it. We get this feeling as well through moments of the edit. From a simple cut from one angle of the mother gardening to another that exposes the gate to the camp. Whether it’s the blinding white light following the only image that takes place in the camp, or the stark red following a montage of flowers, the film feels like it is breaking at the seams and never allowing you to escape both the reality of what this family is allowing to occur and the simpleness of their acts. Yet, Glazer remains rigorous in his pursuit of his sterile images. Showing how gleefully comfortable this family is in their achievement. It’s only in the final moments of the film where we see the commandant break. After telling his wife that while at a party all he could think about was “how I would gas everyone in the room,” he walks slowly down the stairs. He slows down and begins to gag as if to retch. A completely unnerving moment that ends swiftly as he glares into the lens of the camera. We then see images of modern-day Auschwitz. The reality that has been left in the wake of his evil. But there is no change as the commandant gathers himself and walks into the darkness.
The film feels timely (and timeless,) in ways that are horrifying and tragic. Glazer rips at our ability to overlook the horror that occurs in our own world while trying to just get ahead in a bureaucratic system. A story of how a family, who just wants to live a peaceful and easy life, can be the epicenter in which genocide can occur. Much like ourselves, who can so easily look at what’s occurring in places across the world and even in our own communities, yet we hide them behind the wall: a creation of our own mind to separate us from the reality that we perpetuate. A work of art that is better compared to works of sculpture or architecture, with no true surface level pleasure. Those who accept the film will experience something unearthly and discover the evil in the ordinary.
Rating: 5/5
Companion Films: “Shoah” – Claude Lanzmann
“Under the Skin” – Jonathan Glazer