Victory’s Fire

by Douglas Mercer

IT IS THE SIMPLE THINGS in life that count, wouldn’t you agree? And it was Sophocles who said that one does not know how beautiful the day has been until the cool of the evening. By sheer inadvertence, the movie The Zone of Interest gives us such a message, despite the quintessentially Jewish designs which it has on its audience.

A hard-working German man is the Commandant of Auschwitz; his wife says that he works non-stop and that he loves it. And why not, right? It is not given to every generation to be the honored ones who finally put an end to Jewish evil. And the ones to whom that signal laurel was given were dedicated to the cause without reserve, and worked themselves to the bone to see their Life-enhancing mission enacted on the sacred Earth.

But even a Hyperborean needs to take some time off now and again, and what better time to relax and reflect than one’s birthday. On the day in question the Commandant is given by his family a luxurious canoe with which he can explore the river which runs softly near the camp; it’s a way to get away from the incessant screaming of the Jews and get in touch with Mother Nature.

Then the men who work beneath him at the camp appear in the morning as a congregation in front of his house to give a warm celebration to their leader. This shows that, for the National Socialists, the spirit of community comes first; they may seem a hard and reserved lot, but it is love and love alone which underpins their relationship. A hard love to be sure, but if there is any other kind I’ve never known it.

And then, after an arduous day in which, on horseback, he witnesses some Jewish laborers being led through a meadow, he retires to where he is the lord of the manor, to his home where he will spend time with his wife and his four children. A large cake is on the table, the baby is crying, and the children are beautiful. The husband and the wife exchange some lighthearted conversation, and it is obvious that all are at ease; it has been another hard day of work but for the Commandant this is the scene which makes it all worthwhile, a scene which for him is fragrant of the future.

Next we see him standing alone his in his paradisiacal courtyard, serenely smoking a cigar. The shot of his face tells us he is in deep contemplation — of what? one might ask. Why of course, of that very future and of the coming victory. He is pensive but not troubled. He knows the price they are all paying but has no doubt that it is worth it, more than worth it. He knows you only get what you work for.

Then he begins to walk around his yard and we hear dogs howling and voices being raised across the wall; the film’s director wants you to think of the evil which is behind it, being perpetrated across the way. But don’t believe it; across the way are where the seeds of eternity are being sown, where life is being created.

The Commandant then goes to the little body of water that has been placed in the center of the yard, a sacred pool you might say, and he turns on a shower above it to let even more water into the holy fountain.

Still calmly smoking his cigar, he raises his gaze, perfectly poised, and stares into the near distance; there he sees (and we see in the midpoint of the screen) a chimney, from which grey smoke is billowing ostentatiously out of the flue; at the base of the billowing we see a bit of deep orange redolent of fire. He looks at this for a while, thinks about it, as it were — and then without a care in the world he simply turns around. He literally turns his back on it.

You see, he knows what that chimney, that flue, that fire, and that smoke are and mean: dead Jews — that is, so the filmmakers want you to believe. Does he get soft-hearted about it? Are his heartstrings being pulled? Has his head gone all mushy with pity? No, no, and no: and no once again. In fact he does not think about it much at all — except to think that this is the price of victory, that the bodies being burnt (to pretend alomg with them, that is) are fodder for the living future, fat thrown into the fire that the future might live.

For he knows that whatever enhances Life is good, and whatever causes it to suffer diminution is bad; it’s as simple as that. And somewhere too in his mind, his memory is long; he knows what the Jews have done to his people; and he knows that there is justice on Earth, and that he is enacting it.

But such thoughts do not occupy his mind for long. It is his birthday, after all, and the future is not there behind him; the future is ahead — and near at hand. The future is back in the house, the future is in his mind and soon to be flourishing in the world. He has turned his back on what has plagued the German people and only has eyes for destiny.

The Jewish director surely wants the viewer to see this as looking away from evil, of ignoring it or evading it or sweeping it under the rug; but he has it exactly wrong, it is nothing of the sort; it is turning around to see victory coming, victory in all its glory, and paying no heed to the dead past.

And so at the scene’s finish we see the commandant, still calm and still smoking his cigar, rapt and wrapped in sweet and wonderful thoughts, and of course we can still see the fire and smoke, but he cannot. After all on the day of one’s birth one has better things to think of than dead Jews; one has the recollection of the day, and the beautiful solitude of the night, and the future. And so he continues to rest in his perfect contemplation; tomorrow will be another day of hard work, but the hard work will not be endless; for it will be in paradise that we recall the splendor of what life has been and what it is and what it always will be.

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