This problem of the Holocaustization (if you will) of Judaism is particularly acute in film and in fiction. Because of how dramatic the Holocaust was—a period of still-recent history nightmarishly rife with foreboding, terror, the highest of high stakes, and astonishing tales of cruelty and heroism—it naturally lends itself, unfortunately, to mediums in which drama is a lifeblood. How tempting, indeed, must it be for a novelist or filmmaker to use a subject this inherently dramatic as the basis for a dramatic book or movie? And how difficult must it be to not use it as a subject when the opportunity presents itself? In fact, when you think about it, it is almost a wonder that there aren’t even more films and novels set during the Holocaust. Still, though, this didn’t detract from my vexation over the fact that an overabundance of Holocaust-related material in the arts and academia continues to be churned out in comparison to the dearth of books and movies that are made about the many other elements of modern Jewish experience.

And yet, despite going into my viewing of Zone of Interest already somewhat aggrieved by its very existence—and therefore predisposed to think badly of the film itself—I could not help marveling at how remarkable of a piece of filmmaking it was. Nor could I not consider how necessary of an addition Zone of Interest is to our understanding of the Holocaust. The overwhelming majority of Holocaust movies have heretofore focused on the victims of the Nazi atrocities, and the gruesome experiences which European Jews endured. This is eminently understandable, as we naturally (and correctly) believe that our care should be directed far more to the victims of atrocities than to the perpetrators. But the attention that we rightfully pay to those who suffered can obscure the source of their torments—the S.S. officers who carried out these brutalities—and can therefore impede our ability to implement mechanisms that will prevent other crimes against humanity from being committed in the future.

The Zone of Interest does exactly this, shifting the spotlight entirely to the Nazi commandants—and to the commandant of Auschwitz in particular, a man named Rudolf Höss (played by Christian Friedel), and his wife Hedwig (Sandra Hüller), as they attempt to make a life for themselves and their young children in a charming little house with a carefully attended garden while the most notorious concentration camp of them all literally looms over their backyard. Based on the 2014 novel of the same title by Martin Amis, The Zone of Interest conveys the entirety of the horror of the Holocaust without showing a single one of its victims. It doesn’t need to. With sparse dialogue, long tracking shots that follow the winding movements of Höss, his family, and his colleagues, strategic use (and occasional strategic absence) of color, and with menacing sounds that remind you of the living hell that was transpiring right next door (Zone of Interest rightfully won the 2024 Oscar for Best Sound, as well as the Oscar for Best International Film), screenwriter and director Jonathan Glazer has created a work of chilling, near-perfect cinema that also reminds us of a fact that we all too often forget: Nazi commandants were not all Amon Goeths, the monstrous S.S. officer played so unforgettably (and terrifyingly) by Ralph Fiennes in Schindler’s List. They were far more often ordinary, boring—and, yes, banal—bureaucrats who carried out a scheme of medieval barbarism with all of the dullness of motor vehicle license examiners sorting through permit applications at the DMV.

If we are to ever fully grasp all of the ghastly dimensions of the Holocaust’s horrors—and if we wish to prevent another one—we need to understand the cold, calculating efficiency with which the Final Solution was implemented, and how so many ordinary human beings were able, psychologically speaking, to do what they did to other human beings. In this regard, Zone of Interest is a vital contribution to our understanding of one of the most savage episodes of human history, and of the greatest catastrophe in Jewish history. If first-class filmmakers like Glazer would also devote the same kind of care to all the other non-tragic dimensions of Jewish life, modern film would go a long way toward providing audiences with a more complete view of Judaism as well.