Screen International

August 13, 2004

 The Ninth Day (Der Neunte Tag)
Portrait of a wartime priest’s troubled conscience showcases two fine performances
Reviewed by Dan Fainaru

Despite first appearances, Volker Schlöndorff’s The Ninth Day is no Holocaust film, but a near theological look at Catholicism under Nazi rule.
 
Henri Kremer (Ulrich Matthes), a Luxembourg abbot, is released from Dachau, where he was sent for preaching against the Nazis.  He is told he has nine days to convince the Bishop of Luxembourg to co-operate with the Nazi regime.  If he succeeds, he will save the lives of himself, his family and other priests in Dachau.  Failure means a fate worse than death for all.
 
Physically broken, but spiritually undaunted, Kremer not only has to battle Gestapo officer Gebhardt (Deihl) but also his own conscience and commitments.  No one, including church dignitaries, can or will help him decide, while the Vatican, whose dubious, manipulative conduct to find a modus vivendi with the Wehrmacht is often mentioned, never really puts its case.
 
Introductory images suggest a classic Holocaust feature, but as Kremer meets Gebhardt, the script becomes an intellectual duel over Catholicism’s role within the Nazi regime.  For this to be effective, both sides need equally eloquent arguments.  But despite Diehl’s sharpness, Gebhardt’s lines sound like cynical repartee he does not believe in.  It leaves fear as the only effective weapon to combat Kremer’s faith, draining the clash’s intellectual value.
 
Instead, the real dilemma becomes Kremer’s inner conflict, for which Schlöndorff uses the gaunt, martyr face of Ulrich Matthes and conscience-wrecking flashbacks from Dachau.  But recreating the camps is a well-intentioned endevour that can only ineffectually reproduce reality.
 
Diehl looks too young as Gabhardt but uses small movements to generate a terror that hypnotises his victims into submission.  As fearsome as he is, he still hints that there are scars left by his experiences on the Eastern Front and in the camps.
 
It’s difficult to imagine a better match for the emaciated physical condition of Kremer, who can hardly stand, than Matthes.  He conveys a fiery passion of faith through his tortured eyes that express the character more than words can.
 
Impressive camera work runs through the palette of grey, never allowing the sunlight to break the heavy clouds.
 
-screened at Locarno (Piazza Grande)