The Zone of Interest

Set in the midst of one of the darkest periods in human history, Martin Živec's psychological drama, "The Zone of Interest," takes an unflinching look at the lives of those responsible for one of the most heinous crimes committed during World War II – the atrocities that took place at Auschwitz. Through a haunting narrative that peels away the façade of duplicity, Živec crafts a cinematic experience that serves as a scathing critique of the German high command's complicity in the war. At the heart of the film lies Rudolf Höss, the Commandant of Auschwitz. Played by Saskia Keil and Alexander Beyer in a striking dual performance, Höss emerges as a dichotomous figure, torn between his duties to the Nazi regime and his desperate desire to create a utopian existence for himself and his family. As the camera pans across the meticulous garden Höss carefully cultivates, the stark contrast between the blood-stained periphery and the civilized façade becomes starkly apparent, underscoring the horror that exists just beyond the boundaries of their isolated world. As a commanding figure in the innermost workings of the Nazi regime, Höss's dual role serves as a haunting metaphor for the dichotomy that defines humanity during times of war. His is a world where families, lives, and emotions matter little, except as they pertain to furthering Hitler's agenda. This serves to humanize Höss, inviting an audience to emotionally connect with an infamous perpetrator rather than viewing him as a flat, one-dimensional icon of evil. However, this subtle shift in perspective raises more questions than it answers. If Höss is not the devil incarnate but a multifaceted individual with inner turmoil, what drives the atrocities he oversees every day? Is he a man driven by forced obligation, the pressures of living up to a mythical Aryan ideal, or something far more sinister? As the narrative unravels, we glimpse rays of tenderness towards his wife Hedwig, delicately played by Danica Curcic. Their fragile and fading connection grounds Höss in humanity and invites viewers to ponder the ways in which desensitization is enabled. The attention Živec brings to the relationship between Höss and his wife illuminates a peculiar equilibrium. Despite both being complicit in perpetuating genocide, Hedwig exists in a fractured space where emotional well-being has deteriorated from self-disgust and despair to complete abandonment, making her character unafraid to momentarily allow feelings to flicker. Conversely, Rudolf grapples with these painful contradictions all but burying his growing disquiet, ever ready to do the thing that needs to be done each morning. "The Zone of Interest," then, delves into the disquieting, darker aspects of this dual-lifed world that we inhabit. By focusing on Höss's search for an idyllic home life next to the site of the atrocity, Živec's masterful direction distills the complex dynamics that accompany violence in its institutionalized, brutalized forms. What we experience is a chilling, compassionate dissection of a society founded on brutal tyranny where ordinary civility cannot possibly stand intact once there exists only stark reality to grapple with, thus exemplifying the irreconcilable contrasts so starkly inherent in this once-forgotten landscape.