Jojo Rabbit: Vanquishing Hate and Calling it Childish

Fascism, and Nazism especially, cannot withstand ridicule. It’s such an extreme and brittle ideology in terms of its fundamental tenets, and that’s why fascist powers throughout history have censored and silenced criticism, why their leaders have been so thin-skinned and their systemic reinforcement and indoctrination of their philosophy so severe. Even the most illogical assumptions and grandiloquent theatrical practices must be upheld and respected with total seriousness, otherwise the strength of its grip falls apart. And it’s why those who made anti-fascist satires during the war years, Charlie Chaplin with The Great Dictator, Ernst Lubitsch with To Be or Not To Be, were genuine heroes for exposing and mocking all the grandiosity of the Third Reich.

Taika Waititi is far from the only filmmaker after to satirize Nazi Germany; but he might be the best at it since Mel Brooks lambasted the aesthetics and character of that tyrannical politic through “Springtime for Hitler” in The Producers. Waititi’s film, Jojo Rabbit, which follows an insecure but fanatical boy in the Hitler Youth who conjures a facsimile of the Fuhrer as an imaginary friend, and uncovers a Jewish girl hiding in his mothers’ home, not only satirizes Nazism aggressively and correctly, but goes further with its messaging of hope and a passionate denouncement of hate.

Those are some dangerous sentiments to have in a movie about Nazi Germany that run the risk of downplaying the evils of the Nazi regime. But what Waititi does smartly is focus his story on a childs’ eye view, and thereby themes on the origins of hate, prejudice and xenophobia. Setting the stage with a brilliantly edited montage equating Hitlers’ cult of personality with Beatlemania, the film couldn’t make clearer how none of the perceptions held by Johannes “Jojo” Betzler (Roman Griffin Davis) are natural, all of them are ingrained through what he’s taught: Jews have horns and mind-reading capabilities, Hitler’s a hero, the “Aryan” race has a basis in reality, etc. The root of the evils he’s been brought up in are systematic, to the point even his mother (Scarlett Johansson) struggles to get through to him her values of empathy and love –a nicely authentic touch to how the Hitler Youth were often trained to be wary of their parents. And yet her influence is strong enough to foster the bedrock of a kind, gentle, and understanding kid beneath all the misguided beliefs and aspirations. Early on, he’s endowed with the bullying nickname “Jojo Rabbit” after he fails to kill a rabbit in front of his peers, and it’s a major wound to a child convinced his only worth is in his capacity for violence and ruthlessness. His imaginary Hitler (Waititi) lifts his spirits, but also reinforces the status quo of the ideology in power, devaluing Jojo in the process to comic effect –with the underlying subtext that this is how Jojo feels about himself.

Waititi’s faux Hitler is the broadest and most provocative aspect of Jojo Rabbit, and thus its biggest marketing ploy. The imagery of a goofy Hitler hanging out with a kid and giving him life advice is the kind of thing that’s just the right side of shocking to be hilarious if handled right –and it is. Waititi revels in playing up the silliness of this caricature, no different from any childs’ perception of their hero; but he isn’t as central a part of the story, functionally serving as just the most extreme manifestation of Jojo’s conditioning, and only has about as much screen-time as Johansson, who is really good as the compassionate mother. Indeed in a film boasting great comedic performances from Sam Rockwell, Rebel Wilson, Alfie Allen, and Stephen Merchant (as the living embodiment of Hannah Arendt’s Banality of Evil), it’s the children who matter most and carry the film. Griffin Davis is an absolute gem, sincere in that desperation to be a part of something big, resoundingly sentimental in a couple key moments of his character journey, and funny in the ludicrous assertions and outrageous claims he has to make about Jewish people. The flesh-and-blood refutation of these fallacies, Elsa, is brought to life by Thomasin McKenzie in an arrestingly nuanced performance that forces you out of the comedic trappings into the bitterness of reality, even as she demonstrates some of the films’ greatest wit and sharpness. Together, they’re extraordinarily endearing, especially as Elsa breaks down Jojo’s preconceptions and their relationship grows.

All while Waititi finds fun and creative ways to send-up Nazi expressionism, attitude, and protocol. Apart from the verbal jokes at the expense of their war fortunes (the film is set in 1945), the limited roles for women in society, and even one brilliant gag about Hitler’s genetic engineering fixation, there’s a lot of effective imagery and visual technique that Waititi employs to avoid his message being misconstrued or falling victim to the satire paradox (as in accidentally appealing aesthetically to those he wishes to mock –in this case white nationalists and other modern Nazi movements). He frames his adult Nazi characters in emasculating ways (primarily Rockwell and Allen), uses deliberately anachronistic gestures to convey a social awkwardness (consider Merchant’s reaction to Jojo’s bedroom), and does all he can to make Hitler look as absurd as possible. The scene in many of the trailers of him and Jojo running through the woods in slow-mo as part of a training exercise is a prime example of this –with Hitlers’ arms flailing, his gut pronounced, and a very stupid expression on his face, it’s impossible to see him as anything other than a joke. And there are other, albeit less theatrical instances of this dotting his manner throughout the film.

And yet Waititi is smart enough to know how to keep grim seriousness in the wings–this is the man who balanced the emotional complexities of Hunt for the Wilderpeople after all. He hints at the cost of war, illustrates the cruelty of the Nazi regime through one heartbreaking, perfectly framed moment, and cultivates some genuine suspense out of the Gestapo. While the most heinous acts are left off-screen (some may object to the lack of acknowledgement of the holocaust), the film is aware of the truth of that world. It’s evident in how Waititi uses some of his same satirical techniques to illustrate dramatic or evocative beats: an overzealous diatribe from Hitler designed and shot to recall his real counterpart’s actual fearfulness and potency, a slow-mo sequence in the climax that’s full of tragedy and vivid thematic weight, yet also a use of anachronism in the final moments that rather than take you out of the film, fills you with joy –and is one of the very best movie endings of the year.

Jojo Rabbit is the story of a child raised in hate unlearning it –there’s a reason Waititi included the “anti-hate satire” sub-heading in a lot of the promotional materials: as necessary a disclaimer as its message is relevant. Bewilderingly, for a movie that surrounds itself in the most egregious politics, it’s a remarkably uplifting story, and it’s all because of its two abiding golden rules: love is stronger than hate, and Nazis deserve ridicule. 

Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/JordanBosch
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jordan_D_Bosch

Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/jbosch/