‘Nuremberg’ Review

There’s a kernel of a great idea at the core of James Vanderbilt’s sophomore feature, Nuremberg. Focused upon the titular German city’s hosting of the Nuremberg trials, Vanderbilt’s screenplay initiates a conversation about morality and nobility by asking, “What if we could dissect evil?” Interrogating how a human being could be capable of doing any of the despicable acts executed by the Nazi regime during World War II is undoubtedly a fascinating subject to explore from a psychiatric perspective. The flip side of this is that to separate humanity from evil, you need to sympathize and ultimately humanize individuals who perceive themselves as superior to those around them. Nuremberg does this, but with the snappiness of a Hollywood dramatization that refuses to submerge itself wholly within the severity of its subject matter. A tragically dull misfire, Nuremberg wastes an exceptional Russell Crowe performance and interesting perspectives on the inception of the Nuremberg trials for a weightless cavalcade of digestible quips and a shallow parallel to the modern political climate.

Opening with the final day of war in Germany, Nazi Germany is in disarray, and its leaders are brought into custody for war crimes committed during World War II. Justice Robert H. Jackson (Michael Shannon) sees this defeat as an opportunity to set a precedent and stop Nazi Germany from waging war again by making an example of its leaders through an international trial. The key to it all is being able to indict Hitler’s second-in-command, Hermann Göring (Russell Crowe), and present irrefutable evidence of the atrocities committed by the Nazi regime. However, with many willing to commit suicide rather than stand trial, Douglas Kelley (Rami Malek) is brought on to assess the prisoners’ mental health and ensure that no one commits suicide before a verdict is made. Provided a translator in Sgt. Howie Triest (Leo Woodall), Kelley speaks to all of the prisoners, but becomes intellectually consumed by Göring, whom he believes may prove a match against the legal system.

Ambition is the root of almost every decision made throughout Nuremberg’s recounting of events. Jackson’s decision to put Nazi leaders on trial as opposed to merely jumping right to execution is constantly suggested as a push for a promotion by the President’s side. Kelley is taking extensive notes and spending an exorbitant amount of time with Göring in the hopes that his conversations with the Nazi leader will pave the way for a book deal. “We are allies, but we are not on the same side,” remarks Göring a few times throughout Vanderbilt’s screenplay, and it’s a fact exemplified by noble motivations versus political ambitions. Individuals such as Triest are not interested in the Nuremberg trials for the same reason as his ally, Kelly. There is a common goal between allies, but the nobility of the pursuit may not be present in everyone.

It does Kelley no favours that he is portrayed as cocky, sarcastic, and quippy, and the only emotion he manages to muster that isn’t adoration for Göring is sympathy for Adolf Hitler’s second-in-command. Obviously, the film eventually snaps him out of it, but it’s the kind of heavy-handed play that snaps everyone out of it and unintentionally turns Nuremberg’s compelling dissection of evil actions into a comically villainous portrayal of what we already know. Unless this is the first time you’re hearing of World War II, the severity of everything is well known to the audience. The film decides to incorporate real-life footage of concentration camps and the inhumane actions committed by the Nazi regime at a certain point in the film. As a result, Nuremberg shifts into the most generic courtroom drama, where Crowe’s nuanced portrayal of Göring becomes an over-the-top supervillain, and Malek’s ambitious character devolves into a naive American determined to ensure Göring is sentenced to death.

Unfortunately, Nuremberg often struggles to bring reality into the fold. There’s this last-ditch attempt to draw overt parallels between current President Donald Trump’s America and the rise in fascism to what transpired over the course of World War II. It’s not subtle, and neither is the rest of the film; what is egregious is that the film barely attempts to draw these parallels earlier in the movie. Instead, it feels like an afterthought tacked on to give a heavily dramatized interpretation of Jack El-Hai’s book, ‘The Nazi and the Psychiatrist,’ a modern angle. Again, if this is your first time hearing about World War II, it might be a revelation, but for most audiences, the connection is obvious enough that if you’re going to draw the parallels, you need to put in more effort. It’s a minor issue with the screenplay because it doesn’t actually make a significant difference to the majority of the film. However, when contrasted against the other points made more succinctly in Vanderbilt’s film, it’s emblematic of a film struggling to be dramatically interesting. It throws a Hail Mary, hoping to rouse some conversation around its proceedings.

Nuremberg can’t settle on what it wants to be, and washes that confusion down with silly dialogue and obvious observations. A digestible and sanitized screenplay undercuts moments that should be rife with drama. Characters will say, “I hope we don’t run into any problems,” and then, less than a moment later, someone will hurriedly remark, “We have a problem.” You can’t help but laugh at how sterile Nuremberg feels. When it does make those bold swings, such as showing concentration camp footage for an extended period of time and defining its characters by how they react to it, it feels like you’ve seen those moments handled better before. It’s unfair to make the comparison to Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest. Still, Glazer’s film was willing to sit uncomfortably with evil long enough to dissect it without turning its characters into a sideshow of Hollywood tropes. The problem is that it’s not as accessible as Vanderbilt’s film. They share the intent of dissecting evil, but Glazer is much clearer about how he wants to approach it, while Vanderbilt strings together a few conceptually interesting ideas before sacrificing them all for a more generic absolute.