Writers: Yariv Mozer and Kobi Sitt
Director: Yariv Mozer
Adolf Eichmann would say it never happened. It was “completely made- up nonsense.” How could he have seen anything when he was, as he says, “sitting at my desk in Berlin?”
In the case of this film, he is, in a way, for once correct. At the time of filming he had been reduced to a pile of ashes scattered over the Mediterranean. The person purporting to be Adolf Eichmann is an actor. What we’re seeing is literally smoke and mirrors. The words are his, however. So is the voice.
In 1957, then living in Buenos Aires , Eichmann willingly recorded his recollections at the request of Willem Sassen, a Nazi -sympathising journalist. The recordings were made at a sort of weekly salon, hosted by Sassen, where Nazi pals could meet and chat about the good old days. Although transcripts and copies were made , the whereabouts of the tapes was unknown until the mid-nineties. Now they form the basis of Yariv Mozer’s compelling, informative and important film.
The reminiscences of elderly men are not always fascinating. Eichmann’s droning delivery and bureaucratic precision are hardly cinematic, so Mozer uses visual artifice, recreating the setting in which the recordings were made. He was able to rely on the advice of Sassens’ daughter Saskia, who was more or less an eye witness. The set is a comfortable living room, suffused with mellow lamplight. Wine is poured generously; ashtrays fill up.
After years in the wilderness of anonymity, Eichmann enjoys the attention. “This is so nice,” he crows, leafing through a book and landing delightedly on the signature of the other, more famous Adolf. He jokes that a pesky fly is “of a Jewish nature.” After a few revelations, one prudent voice says they “can’t do this,” but Eichmann is happily into his stride. Several times the film quotes his chilling final words “had we killed 10.3 million, then I would have been satisfied.” We see plenty of the real Eichmann, in court, his bespectacled face displaying a whole array of expressions. He does a smirk, in which he manages to turn his whole mouth in a diagonal. He is a little hunched, as if from a lifetime of only obeying orders, very different from the superb administrator of the tapes.
Many other people appear on the screen, the most substantial being Gideon Hausner, the prosecuting Attorney General of Israel. First seen in his black gown leaning against the podium, in the attitude of an eighteenth-century gentleman, he is relentless in his determination to get Eichmann to confess. Formidably well-educated, he quotes Shakespeare in English. He addresses the defendant in Hebrew, until a moment when, exasperated, he speaks directly in German. He finally gets his conviction, but not having access to the tapes themselves , he has an almost unsurmountable task.
Adding to the difficulty is the international political scene. Prime Minister David Ben Gurion, keen to establish friendly relations with Konrad Adenauer is pushing a ‘don’t mention the war’ approach; there is also some compromising information about one of his own former cabinet ministers.
As witnesses Hausner calls up many holocaust survivors. Their testimony is unforgettable. Some of them were still alive at the time of filming, all too aware as modern audiences may not be, of the stigma that attaches to people who have suffered unimaginable trauma. The historian Deborah Lipstadt speaks bluntly of how they were regarded in the new State of Israel.
Lipstadt is one of several eminent people who appear on screen. Helpfully, they are named at every appearance, often with the title of the book they have written. The Devil’s Confession is an exemplary history lesson with an integrated booklist. It doesn’t need its gothic title; the story is horror enough.
The UK Jewish Film Festival 2023 takes place in London cinemas from 9-19 November, with a national tour taking place from 9-30 November with a selection of films available online from 20-27 November.
The Reviews Hub Score:
Compelling, informative, important
