In a Zone of its Own

By James Luksic

Courtesy A24

Aside from its subject – Nazis and the “Final Solution” – Oscar-nominated film The Zone of Interest is far from a standard Holocaust depiction. The movie has little in common with acclaimed multi-Oscar winners Schindler’s List or, say, Life is Beautiful, but it too deserves the status of both Best International Feature and Best Picture (though Oppenheimer is favored to seize the latter prize.)

This film’s “zone” is a reference to the area surrounding the Nazi death camp in Auschwitz. As directed and written by Jonathan Glazer, its spotlight is on the family of German commandant Rudolf Hoss, his wife, Hedwig, and their two children, Johann and Inge-Brigitt, whose backyard is adjacent to the walls of Auschwitz.

At the start, Hoss and his loved ones are relaxing by a shimmering lake – with faint birdsong and cicadas within earshot – before doing routine tasks such as playing in the yard and minding their dog. Just a small group of everyday people doing everyday things, except for the sobering fact that the doting father (Christian Friedel) operates the adjoining death camp, where it’s obvious – only by sounds – that its unfortunate inhabitants are facing unspeakable acts.

Hoss’s spouse, Hedwig (impeccable Sandra Huller), goes about daily duties, giving orders to the maids and – above all – tending to her cherished garden. While guiding her mother on a tour of the majestic plants, deftly captured in one take, proud Hedwig boasts that she’s called the “Queen of Auschwitz.”

She may be the “queen,” but her husband lavishes more affection on his mistress, a horse, and a pedestrian's dog.

As the tale unfolds, Hoss learns of a promotion (if you will) that requires him to relocate, but Hedwig refuses to leave their home and garden, despite its unappealing location.

Just over the surrounding walls, viewers will notice black smoke billowing from a chimney top, a guards’ tower, barbed wire, puffs of smoke and steam from incoming trains, and distant screams accompanied by the muffled but unmistakable sound of gunfire.

The striking contrast is enough to make one gasp. Anyone familiar with Glazer’s body of work shouldn’t be surprised: Given his oeuvre, including Sexy Beast and the sci-fi corker Under The Skin, it’s reasonable to assert he is among the more ambitious and curious directors working today.

In a December interview, members of the film crew explained that The Zone of Interest comprises two movies: “one you hear and one you see.” One of those visual moments transpires when the kids play in the river while Hoss is fishing, until an object floating downstream startles them.

To that end, Glazer’s inner circle of cinematographer Lukasz Zal, composer Mica Levi, and sound designer Johnnie Bum deserve accolades for crafting an assortment of ominous noises, at turns guttural, quirky, and all, disturbing.

When there’s no dialogue, Mother Nature’s ambient sights and sounds may make audience members feel as if they’re in the picture – which is precisely what Glazer had in mind.

Indeed, all scenes were shot with stand-alone cameras; the film crew would purposely hide, so the actors were ostensibly on their own. All the more authentic, to help convince the performers they were isolated next door to a death camp.

A night-vision camera follows the glowing movements of a young girl, who snuck out of the house to drop off strategically placed apples where POWs perform hard labor. Roughly five minutes in, for example, at sundown Hoss is home locking a door and turning off a light; the scene shifts to the house’s backyard, where we see only lit windows and rooms that silently darken one by one as the unseen father shuts the lights off in the same precise and methodical manner with which he functions within the camp’s sinister walls.

Although the scant plot is simplistic, themes and topics run deep: pride, love, disappointment, work ethic, companionship, guilt, empathy, discipline, and the finer things juxtaposed with the worst mankind has to offer: a family seated at their dinner table enjoying a birthday cake while beyond their veiled window looms a Nazi guard tower.

The proceedings are rarely spelled out and explained, much less dumbed down. To wit: The spoiled wife – who viewers can deduce is insecure below the surface – is given a fancy fur coat, which she tries on in her bedroom. Without explanation or evidence, one can only infer that the garment had been previously owned by a now-deceased Jewish prisoner.

The picture is one of a kind: profound, gutsy, thought-provoking, and creative, conjuring up a sense of dread and intrigue from its opening frame to its walk-off sequence of the central figure trudging into darkness.

It really is in a zone of its own and fully deserves its Oscar nominations.