Jojo Rabbit

Pastel Nazis

The critical reception to Taika Waititi's Jojo Rabbit has been so all over the map that a little dispassionate distance is required. This PG-13 comedy about a ten year old boy growing up as a Nazi in a fanciful Germany during the latter part of World War 2 is not Germany, Year Zero nor is it The Day The Clown Cried. If I give a guarded recommendation to the film, it is because Mr. Waititi has used this opportunity to expand upon themes of conformity, freedom and friendship that have previously figured in his work.

The themes and techniques here are consistent with Waititi's previous efforts, especially What We Do in the Shadows, Hunt For The Wilderpeople and the throat clearing Thor: Ragnorak. I found some of the comic aspects of this film to be weak. It is not a rollicking farce. Rebel Wilson's appearances aren't modulated and fall flat. The Hitler Youth sequences resemble Meatballs with Sam Rockwell an unsatisfactory substitute for Bill Murray. I find nothing wrong with Nazi satire. Chaplin did it beautifully in The Great Dictator, but I've never cottoned to either iteration of To Be or Not to Be or The Producers. Visconti's The Damned is pretty hilarious, but for all the wrong reasons.

What saves Jojo Rabbit from inanity is the sweetness of Jojo's relationship with his mother and Elsa, the Jewish teen they conceal. (spoiler alert) Jojo's discovery of his mother dangling from the gallows is a Bambi's Mom dying moment and Scarlett Johansson warm performance magnifies the pain of loss. That a genre film aimed at families with kids of latency age is willing to open itself to charges of emotional exploitation is an artistic gamble I am impressed that Waititi was willing to take. Jojo Rabbit is only moderately amusing and it is not a deep film, but it is a felt attempt to convey the cognitive dissonance of childhood.