How would you react to the idea of Adolf Hitler in a comedy? A comedy where he’s not just funny but also… cute? What if that movie is funny and meaningful and poignant? Taika Waititi’s JoJo Rabbit corners you with such questions.
Besides its farcical, comical tone, the film feels all the more unusual because of its protagonist, JoJo Betzler (Roman Griffin Davis), a 10-year-old boy attending a Hitler Youth training camp.
Childhood is a period and source of great stress for this “loyal little Nazi” desperate to prove his worth for the nation. JoJo doesn’t have many friends; his elder sister recently died of influenza, and his father, serving on the Italian front, hasn’t come home in a long time.
JoJo’s only companion is an imaginary friend, a caricatured version of Hitler (Waititi), who talks to the boy, gives him advice, and orients his goals. If JoJo feels lost in the world, then so does this Hitler, a coward, immature buffoon hurtling from one embarrassment to another.
Waititi seems aware of the question that we’ve in mind, too: How do you portray something as inhuman as the Nazis? A question that is both moral and cinematic.
Most movies based on the Nazis have zoomed in on their horrific crimes, concentrating on the plights of victims. It makes for an unsettling experience and perhaps that is the point as well: to remember the past so that the future is safe.
But this has also resulted in narrative fatigue — the Nazis, World War II, and Jews elicit familiar feelings and images (with the exception of Quentin Tarantino’s revisionist historical, Inglourious Basterds (2009)) — resulting in a material borne out of constrictions.
Waititi liberates himself from such impositions in two key ways: he tells this story from the points of view of perpetrators; he makes his movie so eccentric that at every turn we’re confronted with an avalanche of new meanings and images — a new way to think about the most horrific crime in the history of mankind.
JoJo Rabbit may look part of an alternate, absurd world, but in the first few minutes, through archival footage of Hitler’s rallies and close-up shots of his numerous young admirers, Waititi reminds us of the lineage of his wild subversion.
Also read: As in Life so in His Death, Hubris and Delusion Defined Adolf Hitler
He also nails a vital truth about the Nazis: that with their plans of world domination centred on the idea of a ‘pure’ race, and with their self-important, deluded images of their own selves, they looked and sounded ridiculous — like a bunch of crabby school kids denied their favourite candies.
So the deeper Waititi dives, the funnier — almost pitiful — the Nazis seem.
The poster of ‘JoJo Rabbit’.
But even amid frivolity, pathos is always around the corner. JoJo, after all, is just a boy; he’s never seen a Jew before. How would he identify and react to one — especially if that Jew is just a kid like him? Even though JoJo is a “fanatic”, as his mother calls him, Waititi’s directorial language gives you the sense that he’s not beyond saving.
If there’s some hope for JoJo, and every adult has a bit of child in him, then was it ever possible to reverse the tide of the Nazi monstrosity? This is an incredibly complex question, and beyond the scope of JoJo Rabbit, but Waititi at least plants a seed in your head.
The movie changes its tone when JoJo meets Elsa (Thomasin McKenzie), a Jewish teenage girl hiding in his house. Elsa spooks him out, shutting him up and performing hypnosis on him. Then there’s JoJo’s mother, Rosie (Scarlett Johansson), who supports the Allies and drops pieces of paper across the city with “Free Germany” written on them.
Elsa and Rosie are the movie’s moral truths. They’re also alike in crucial ways. Like Rosie, Elsa craves freedom. Their partners are in faraway lands with strong indications that they may never return.
More importantly, both of them have romantic visions of the future. In an early scene, when Rosie is having dinner with JoJo, she impersonates her husband and breaks into a dance. (In a later scene, she says, “Dancing is for people who are free.”) When Elsa is asked what she’d do once the war is won, she says, “I’d like to dance.”
Unlike the hyper-masculine Nazi nuts revering the Fatherland, Rosie and Elma prod JoJo to find the best in himself — the kind of mentors and friends he really needs.
The performances in JoJo Rabbit complement the writing, rendering the film joyous, imbuing it with memorable tenderness. A caring mother hiding a few secrets, Johansson’s Rosie brings to her role a range of shades, transitioning from being a confidante to a voice of moral reason with credible ease.
Also read: What a Biography of Hitler Tells Us About the Supporters of Authoritarian Leaders
McKenzie, playing Elsa, who part intimidates and comforts JoJo, shows us a new facet of the Jewish survivor: one centred on gumption and ingenuity. Waititi reserves the most challenging role for himself, playing the Führer, making his comical oddities weirdly endearing — doing all this while respecting the nuances of a tormenting period and being clear-headed about the target of his jokes.
Some of his acting vocabulary, though, borrows heavily from a Hollywoodesque brand of slapstick comedy, dimming the shine of a fine role. But the real revelation here is Davis, the film’s unlikely hero, whose textured performance keeps you in a state of constant see-saw.
At one moment, you feel like condemning him, and yet at another, you feel like he’s someone who deserves a second chance.
In some scenes, JoJo Rabbit breaks free of everything, showing a life the boy is ready to relinquish. Lounging near a lake on a calm, sunny afternoon, Rosie tells JoJo, “You’re growing up too fast. Ten year olds should not be celebrating war talking politics. You should be climbing trees and falling out of them. Life is a gift. We must celebrate it.”
The mother and son then pick their bikes and race each other, reaching a road lined with lush trees on both sides — a moment worthy to be framed.
Right then, a truck passes by, with a handful of Nazi soldiers looking at Rosie and JoJo. Some look indifferent, some curious, but there are at least a few whose lips contain a trace of smile: seeing a brief glimpse of what they’ve lost, of what they’ll make the world lose.