Costa-Gavras' powerful "Amen" is a dramatic historical thriller. The movie's subject is the neglect of the Catholic Church and Allied powers to acknowledge the annihilation of European Jews, and their collective failure to offer any moral or strategic response to the Holocaust.
Adapted from Rolf Hochhuth's six-hour 1963 play "The Deputy," "Amen" is shaped as moral inquiry, a meditation on the consequences of protest and complicity. Kurt Gerstein, a historical figure, was a chemical engineer and SS lieutenant assigned the task of developing safe drinking water for German soldiers on the Eastern front. In the summer of 1942, he becomes unhinged at learning about the existence of the extermination camps in Poland. The image of his face gripped in a mask of pain and horror as he sees Jewish prisoners being gassed is devastating.
Horrified by what he witnesses, the brave, naive Gerstein establishes a collaboration with Riccardo Fontana, a Jesuit priest and politically connected member of the papal nuncio in Berlin. Their private torments preface larger issues of guilt, complicity and insignificance.
The movie's recurring image -- a freight train, having just deposited its human cargo at the death camps, hurtling impassively through a terrifyingly quiet landscape -- is measured and reserved. And cinematographer Patrick Blossier displays his superb grasp of scale and weight.
"Amen" leaves a distinct impression. The film arouses anger and sadness, and it levels its emotional fury at the moral cowardice of the authorities who were either reluctant or unwilling to intercede. It offers a sharp critique of the historical role played by the Church without veering into anti-Catholicism, and it is equally critical of the German Protestant community.
On its own terms, "Amen" is a memorably film.
Adapted from Rolf Hochhuth's six-hour 1963 play "The Deputy," "Amen" is shaped as moral inquiry, a meditation on the consequences of protest and complicity. Kurt Gerstein, a historical figure, was a chemical engineer and SS lieutenant assigned the task of developing safe drinking water for German soldiers on the Eastern front. In the summer of 1942, he becomes unhinged at learning about the existence of the extermination camps in Poland. The image of his face gripped in a mask of pain and horror as he sees Jewish prisoners being gassed is devastating.
Horrified by what he witnesses, the brave, naive Gerstein establishes a collaboration with Riccardo Fontana, a Jesuit priest and politically connected member of the papal nuncio in Berlin. Their private torments preface larger issues of guilt, complicity and insignificance.
The movie's recurring image -- a freight train, having just deposited its human cargo at the death camps, hurtling impassively through a terrifyingly quiet landscape -- is measured and reserved. And cinematographer Patrick Blossier displays his superb grasp of scale and weight.
"Amen" leaves a distinct impression. The film arouses anger and sadness, and it levels its emotional fury at the moral cowardice of the authorities who were either reluctant or unwilling to intercede. It offers a sharp critique of the historical role played by the Church without veering into anti-Catholicism, and it is equally critical of the German Protestant community.
On its own terms, "Amen" is a memorably film.