Moloch

It's a masterpiece. Provocative and strange. As you watch you wonder what the hell is going on. It's one of those films that shakes up your idea of cinema. It overturns your idea of history dealing with a subject that has been stamped and framed through so many documentaries and films so that you have already have your mind ready made for you. Nothing can be further from this movie. This is a movie that makes you rethink. And it's funny too. As the title suggests it's about evil and evil empires but instead of dealing with their grandiose and terrible projects it approaches Hitler and his cronies by illustrating their banality, ordinariness, and yes, ridiculous antics. There's no way you could describe this film as in some way supportive of Hitler. Hitler playing around with his teasing lover, his masculinity and prowess at stake. Hitler pontificating about this and that with every word he says taken down in writing as though it were gospel. Hitler with his bloated and deformed cronies messing about in the Eagles Nest, up there in the mist looking over his empire of clouds. Sokurov has made great movies and this is another.

MOLOCH (translated as 'a demon in the shape of a man') is a film that shows yet another aspect of Aleksandr Sokurov's approach to film-making. As in his splendid 'Russian Ark', 'Mother and Son', and 'Father and Son' he manages to say more in his silences and interplay of his characters with nature and their environments that in his spare scripts (this script is by Yuri Arabov and Marina Koreneva). His movement is slow, like an adagio, his eye is constantly on symbolism and irony, and his filming/camera technique is always experimental. Given these factors 'MOLOCH' is a fine example of how Sokurov works his magic: whether or not the viewer will relate to this bizarre film depends on how willing one is to enter Sokurov's vision. This film about Hitler is very much a Russian product and given the history of the relationship between Russia and Germany, that fact is necessary to know.

1942, in a fortress in the clouds of Bavaria, we find Eva Braun (Yelena Rufanova) cavorting balletically both inside the foreboding stone 'dungeon' and out on the dangerous parapets. She is visited by a strange entourage: Hitler (Leonid Mozgovoy), Dr. and Mrs. Goebbels (Leonid Sokol and Yelena Spiridonova), Martin Boorman (Vladimir Bogdanov), and a priest (Anatoli Shvedersky). The action takes place in a single day and during this time the actual war is not discussed. We are to understand this is a retreat for relaxation, but as we get to know the characters we find that many hints of the evil and insane minds of all of them. They talk: Auschwitz is mentioned and Hitler apparently has never heard of it; Hitler pontificates on power; the Goebbels demonstrate their abject worship of Hitler; Eva Braun is the sassy journalist who is the only one who can talk back to Hitler, teasing, seducing and acquiescing to his inability to demonstrate intimacy. They dine (Hitler's vegetarian mentality deplores the 'corporal soup' his dinner partners devour), they watch old grainy black and white news clips of war machines, new tanks, soldiers, and oddly a performance of Beethoven's 9th Symphony with Knappertsbusch conducting. Then the guests retire, and Hitler is joined by Eva Braun in a bizarre boudoir scene. In the morning the entourage leaves and Eva remains, retuning to her strange world of dancing through the fortress.

Throughout the film the music is that of Wagner - Siegfried's Funeral Music, and other passages from 'Die Götterdämmerung' (Twilight of the Gods!) accompanied by some banter about Furtwangler and Bruno Walter as well as Knappertsbusch. The acting is somewhat stylized which adds to the bizarre mood the story creates. In the final analysis this appears to be Sokurov's image of a mind gone mad with power and visions of immortality and it is only at the very end when Eva Braun whispers that he cannot defeat death that there is a moment of vulnerability in the historical Hitler.

This is a slow moving 108 minutes of film and not for everyone's taste, but if you are an admirer of Aleksandr Sokurov it is a mesmerizing journey through the cerebral passages of one of history's worst molochs. Grady Harp

If you remember Casablanca, you'll recall that Rick is a man who begins the film dead on the inside. His heart is broken, he is an alcoholic, he's perfectly neutral, and he doesn't stick his neck out for anybody. But as the film progresses Rick rediscovers his own life again and goes on to take a roll in the war.

"Moloch" shows us this reverse story of the anti-hero Rick. Hitler is the negation of an anti-hero, someone who probably began life off-screen perfectly moral and alive. But his desires and fears have made him a monster, dead on the inside.

People who destroy life do so because they are afraid of their own deaths. Any child who has a momentary fright in contemplating death may respond by killing an insect or a small animal and taking succor in the control over life and death. This is how evil might begin. Thus Sokurov films the vulnerable, underwear-clad Hitler of the everyday in a state of child-like fear of his own death, nearly all the time.

But the real damnation of the killer is that in the end even perpetrating destruction will not ward off the ghosts of the mind. "Death is death," reminds Eva Braun, helpfully. Like Rick's Ilsa, she knows the whole time the true source and purpose of life, knows it down in her bones. But poor Eva has no Rick to work with, and eventually her efforts to liven Hitler only bring up her own worst fears.

Pretty nice example of classical plot structure with negation of the anti-hero!

Yes, it would be easy to criticize Molokh for being slow, and for having Russian actors mouthing German words that aren't natural to them, but I found this film to be fascinating through most of its length (and if Tarkovsky had made it, it would have been TWICE as long).

What we see is Hitler and his inner circle being jovial and vicious by turns, along with loopy discussions of racial characteristics (Czech men have droopy mustaches, indicating moral turpitude; the Finns are rendered mentally unfit owing to cold weather, etc.) There is a lot of backstabbing going on between Bormann and Goebbels; pity that Goering isn't in the film--we would have benefitted even more from his cynicism. All of this has the ring of truth--I recently read Speer's memoirs, Inside the Third Reich, which has detailed accounts of these lunch and dinner talk-fests.

Yelena Rufanova is not convincing as Eva Braun--too slavic looking--but Leonid Mozgovoy with his dumpy body is great as Hitler. The hypochondria, the refusal of middle-class pleasures--no slippers!--the insane political musings: it's all here. Leonid Sokol is Goebbels, absolutely. The rat face on a dwarf's body, the desperate ridicule of Bormann whom he knows is cutting him down: this is fine acting.

Sokurov adopts Leni Riefenstahl's style to tell a Wagnerian story of grandeur and collapse.

The year is 1942. Hitler is at the height of power. He and his inner circle retreat to a misty mountaintop castle in the Alps. Eva Braun, nearly naked and alone, basks in solitude on the ramparts. It is her only escape from the burden of loving a human chimera. Thus begins Alexander Sokurov's film MOLOCH, which won the Best Screenplay Award at the 1999 Cannes Film Festival.

Webster's Third International English Dictionary describes Moloch as an ancient Semitic deity, and the figurative definition runs as, "A tyrannical power propitiated by human subservience or sacrifice." The latter is definitely in evidence as the film explores Braun's personal world and tribulations, as well as the grotesque behavior of Hitler and his obsequious associates. The film does not attempt to mirror history; rather it is a bold speculation that takes its cues from the past.

Leonid Mozgovoy's performance as Hitler is uncanny. He is nervous, annoyed, self-absorbed, even vulnerable, and oblivious to the strained relations around him, including his troubled relationship with Braun, played by Yelena Rufanova. Their final scene is particularly compelling, where Braun in sympathetic tones tells Hitler as he is about to be driven away in his sedan, "Death is Death. It cannot be defeated."

In a unique maneuver, Sokurov had his entirely Russian cast voice the dialogue in German, after which they were dubbed by native German actors from Berlin, creating a nearly seamless result.

Unfortunately, the Russian version of the film in theaters had a voice-over translation (done entirely by Mozgovoy), which interferes with the German text, defeating the whole purpose of going to all that trouble. This decision was made in deference to Russian audiences, which are used to – and even sometimes prefer – this type of translation, but subtitles would have worked much better. Luckily, the Russian DVD has this option (Russian subtitles only).

The film is more streamlined than other Sokurov efforts, and may be called one of his best works, if not the best. The editing and pacing are smoother than that of many of his other films. The recently released video version of the film contains 21 minutes of footage not seen in the theatrical version. The long version plays well, with more rich detail, more expository elements such as additional manifestations of Eva's mischievous nature and Adolf's sensitivity to smells and foodstuffs.

Sokurov studied history at Gorky State University before becoming a filmmaker. He makes highly idiosyncratic, strikingly atmospheric and ponderously paced works, drawing inspiration from classical literature and music – what he calls "Old World art." He crafted the film from a screenplay entitled "The Mystery of the Mountain" (originally the title of the film), written by Yury Arabov, with whom he has collaborated frequently.

The film can rightfully be called a cinematic milestone because of its portrayal of Hitler. For the first time in narrative film history, Hitler is shown to be human. This is ultimately a valuable artistic judgment, for it fosters understanding of the political forces that he set in motion.

Sokurov notes, "Erich Fromm wrote that until we learn to understand Hitler's human nature, we will never understand anything about Nazism or learn to discern potential monsters in those lusting for power."