What We Don’t See in The Zone of Interest

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Viewer, Week 6 (9/29 + 10/1) • Editing II: “Alternative” Forms

I found The Zone of Interest upsetting, not for what we see, but for what it doesn’t show us. Although Holocaust movies generally face us with horror, Jonathan Glazer’s film creates much of its tension through absence or omission. The mise-en-scène is dominated by the family garden that has neat flower beds, a swimming pool, and bright summer light. It appears bucolic, almost rural advertisements for a country retreat. However, just beyond the wall of the garden, and out of view but heard, the machinery of Auschwitz operates. Perhaps the wall is the single most important “prop” in the film. It turns the setting into a “space of denial”: everything inside of it becomes a performance of normality, and everything outside of it becomes an unasked truth. It invites the viewer to divide attention between what is seen and what is only imagined.

The cinematography really elevates this experience. The camera usually remains distant, presenting the Höss family in wide, static compositions. These extended, sweeping shots allow us to take in the entire composition, unlike the quick edits that usually direct or engage our focus, with our gaze wandering between, for example, the children and then the barely-there smoke in the back. The smoke stays in the distance, but we can’t escape its presence.

The editing, or the lack of it, is just as remarkable. Several scenes play out in long takes, which invites a much heavier sensibility to time than we might expect from typical Hollywood filmmakers, who usually give us some rhythmic ‘relief’ by cutting scenes. When we do come to the cuts, they feel, and are, really jarring. For instance, consider the nighttime sey-gogging sequences, captured in infrared. The tonal shift creates a ghostly, documentary feel. These interruptions make us hyperaware of the film’s structure, like the director is forcing us to question how we are watching. Are we complicit, sitting comfortably on the inside of that wall?

What struck me most in this movie was how ordinary the scenes inside the house felt. A mother selecting wallpaper, children splashing in a pool, a father leaving for work. The horror is how effortlessly those images are drawn into “normal” living, and how those same images coexist with mass murder. That is the film’s success: it doesn’t visually allow us to “see” the atrocity, but returns us to consider the comforts that enable it to happen.

Comments

4 responses to “What We Don’t See in The Zone of Interest”

September 30, 2025

Sophia Oshrin

Hi Sidd!
I really like your point about the wall possibly being the most important prop, turning the garden into a “space of denial.” I felt that too; the wall doesn’t just separate the two spaces physically, it also splits the viewer’s perspective, since we’re constantly reminded of what’s excluded from view through audio. It’s unsettling how much these elements make us want to fill in the whole picture despite how horrible everything is beyond the wall.
I also agree with what you said about the long takes. For me, the lack of cutting made the more “ordinary” moments even heavier because there’s no distraction. As viewers, we are forced to sit with the family as they go about their lives, all while knowing what’s happening just beyond the frame. That aspect actually makes me appreciate the two black-and-white scenes of the girl even more, because she was the one person actually taking action. I really enjoyed reading your interpretations and agree that the horror doesn’t come from what we see, but from how normal everything looks despite the atrocities happening beyond the frame.

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September 30, 2025

Valentin Krenn

I think your description of the cinematography and its effect is excellent. It somehow reminded me of the show Big Brother: the cameras in the house are almost always in the exact same positions, emphasizing the feeling of simply watching a family live their daily life.

I see this film as a commentary on the everyday lives of Germans during the Nazi regime. After the war, many Germans claimed they didn’t know about the Holocaust and even portrayed themselves as victims. Today, we know that’s not true—if they didn’t know the full scale, they still knew it was happening. And this is exactly what the film shows: people going about their normal daily lives while aware that murders are happening right next to them.

In that sense, the film also functions as a warning. Similar things are happening in the U.S. right now: people detained and deported without trial, freedom of speech restricted, cities occupied by the military. Everyone knows it’s happening, yet most go about their daily lives and watch.

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September 30, 2025

Jamie Schechner

Hi Sid,

I agree with almost all of this post, and I think the point you make about us purposefully not focusing on what is already out of sight is very true. That being said, I have one disagreement.

We do see the camp in this film. While we never go inside, and we do not focus on it at all, the camp is omnipresent in the visual composition of the film. Even in the screenshots taken, we can see the drab red and grey roofs of Auschwitz peeking over the top of the wall.

Even without the sound design, the camp is present. It is omnipresent. You cannot ignore this camp, as much as the wall and the flowers want you to. So while you’re right that the film doesn’t visually allow us to see the atrocities, it is in our line of sight––just above the horizon, there is always a camp, and there are always guards in the tall towers.

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September 30, 2025

Teresa Martinez Gonzalez

Hello Sidd!

I really like what you said about the wall being the most important prop. To add to that, I don’t think the only purpose of the wall is to just hide what is going on outside/create a space of denial. To me, it also shows how much the family depends on what is happening beyond it. The garden and pool aren’t just innocent comforts, they only exist because of the camp. That makes it feel less like the family is living “in denial,” and more like they are completely tied to the violence by living in active complicity.

Your point about the wide shots was great too. I’d add that keeping the camera pulled back makes the family feel almost like objects on dispay (strips them of empathy). Their everyday routines look so normal, but in that context they come off as chilling.

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