During our weekly film screenings, I usually take a couple pages of notes; some technical but mostly analytical. However, I found it very difficult to watch and notetake during The Zone of Interest. This was, in part, due to how eerily disturbing it was—not a single Jewish person is shown on screen, yet their remains fill rivers, and the smoke from their immolations darkens the sky. Does Jonathan Glazer situate the audience outside the gate to make us feel complicit or to emphasize the Höss family’s moral indifference…or both? What is the significance of the contrast between the domesticity of the garden, which Hedwig takes pride in upkeeping, and the brutality of the concentration camp? Well, after sitting with this film for a couple hours, I think it is a profound commentary on the power of compartmentalization.
Throughout the entire film, the mise-en-scène focuses on “normal” people living their everyday lives: a father working in his office, a mother caring for her children and infant, and a big brother teasing his little brother. They are unfazed by the screams and gunshots beyond the barbed wire. In fact, the first time anyone cocks their head at this noise is when Hedwig’s mother visits; unlike her daughter and grandchildren, she is not desensitized (I do not believe that her hasty departure was indicative of any moral objection though). Not to mention, Hedwig crying over Rudolf’s demotion potentially necessitating their relocation is an even more striking example of her total compartmentalization of the genocide. She is the first person I have heard say she would need to be dragged out of Auschwitz. Her and Rudolf talk about moving homes, raising their children, and throwing parties as any other couple would, yet that evoked sense of shared humanity amidst their unique geographic reality intensifies just how disturbing the film is.
At its core, this film is about the human tendency to choose oblivion over true empathy and intervention. Obviously, when I click “Skip” on a YouTube ad for a dog shelter, it is not out of apathy, for I am simply saddened by their suffering and would prefer to look elsewhere. When this rhetoric is applied to the Höss family’s living situation, however, it is not simple, it is dangerous. Glazer’s decision not to show Jewish people actually amplifies their presence. Reducing their suffering to echoes forces us to confront how easily we compartmentalize horror and makes us rethink the implications of times when we have turned away, plugged our ears, and let those echoes fade into silence too.
Hi Colin,
I’m so glad you brought up the theme of compartmentalization because it’s one of the aspects that struck me the most as well. Your observation about the family’s mundane activities, like Hedwig tending to her garden while atrocities happen mere feet away, really illustrates how the film makes us confront the chilling capacity for human detachment. I agree that the contrast between the domestic sphere and the brutal reality outside is key to understanding Glazer’s message.
What really resonates is how you describe Hedwig’s breakdown over possibly having to leave Auschwitz, rather than the genocide happening right outside. It’s such a clear illustration of her complete separation from the horrors, which she manages to suppress in favor of focusing on her personal concerns. I love your analogy about skipping a dog shelter ad. It reflects our own tendencies to compartmentalize suffering, turning away when something might be too uncomfortable to acknowledge.
Glazer’s decision not to show Jewish victims is brilliant in how it amplifies their presence by making them invisible. We’re forced to experience their suffering through the environment: the smoke, the rivers, the screams. It’s as if the film is asking us to recognize how we, too, ignore or downplay distant horrors because they don’t directly affect us. This is such a powerful reflection on human nature, and it makes the film deeply unsettling and thought-provoking.
To your comment on Glazer’s intent in situating the audience outside the gate, I say he does this not just to emphasize the family’s indifference, but also to make us complicit as passive observers. It’s a haunting reminder of how easily we can become detached, and I love how you tied that to our contemporary behavior.
Hi Colin!
First of all, I completely agree with your point that not showing the Jewish people actually amplifies their presence (as strange as that may sound). In your post, you mentioned that Jewish people were not shown at all during the film. There was one instance, however, in which they were briefly shown through the bushes. In this scene, Rudolf sees the Jewish prisoners being yelled at while trudging through the grass and completing hard physical labor. This scene was definitely haunting to me , like you said, because their faces were not shown. They looked completely depleted and weak, and were depicted just like cattle. Regarding compartmentalization, this scene is one of the few that actually “breaks” the compartmental mold. Here, the Jewish prisoners are actually working in the same grassy field that Rudolf and his kids spend time relaxing in. The juxtaposition between these two activities really highlights the chilling nature that the Höss family is just casually living right next to a concentration camp.
Additionally, I thought that your point about Hedwig’s mother was very interesting. Even though she can’t even bear to smell the dead bodies (which is just absolutely horrific), I definitely don’t think that her decision to leave is due to her morals. She was also the only person in the film to actually “humanize” the Jewish people by naming a Jewish woman who she had worked for. After mentioning this woman, Hedwig immediately dismisses her comment and moves on to another topic (she doesn’t want to think about or face anything that could cause discomfort). Nevertheless, I just think that this was more of naivety on her mother’s part. She didn’t actually care about the Jewish woman, and was just trying to make small talk. Little did she know, however, that this kind of talk was taboo at the Höss household.