Humanizing the Enemy Through Art
In exploring the theme “Persecution in Europe”, the two films The Hiding Place (1975) and The Pianist (2002) portray the effects of Nazi invasion and occupation of the Netherlands and Poland respectively. The former is based on the true story of Corrie Ten Boom, a Christian Dutch woman whose family was sent to concentration camps for aiding Jews through the Dutch Underground. The film shows the gruesome and cruel treatment the Ten Boom sisters had to endure, despite being only “political” prisoners amidst Jews and real criminals. On the other hand, The Pianist is based on the true story of Wladyslaw Spzilman, a professional Jewish pianist in the Netherlands who manages to avoid death and captivity thanks to a connection with the police and his local Underground. Unlike the Ten Booms, he is spared the horrible experience of being in a concentration camp—yet he still witnesses his fair share of tremendous cruelty. Despite these differences in addition to the fact that they were produced 27 years apart, a powerful theme emerges in both films—the notion that art has the power to humanize the enemy.
In The Hiding Place (1975), the enemy is humanized when Casper Ten Boom discovers that he and one of the young Nazi officers share a mutual love for clocks, which happens to be the Ten Boom family’s livelihood. In the beginning of the film, soon after the Nazis invade and occupy the Netherlands, a young German Nazi officer walks into the family’s watch shop, as they are collecting all the radios in each household. After looking around, he says, “You have many beautiful clocks here.” He walks over to a particular one and guesses correctly, “Bavarian? The cabinet looks like…” and continues to show his unexpected expertise in clocks. When Casper asks about this knowledge, the Nazi soldier replies with a smile, “My father is a watchmaker. I grew up on his workbench.” A wry reply escapes Casper mistakenly, “And look what you’ve grown into”, and the Nazi soldier’s smile quickly fades. Casper recovers quickly, asking “What district?” The soldier answers, “Mattenbraw”, and Casper directs his attention to a beautiful Mattenbraw 1895 model—the awkwardness from only a moment before disappears. As a different officer carries out the radio, Casper protests, saying it was a gift from the children of Harlem for his 70th birthday. The Nazi soldier hesitates for a few seconds before he allows Casper to keep the radio, seemingly due to their new personal connection.
Indeed this same Nazi soldier returns in a later scene, in which he leaves one of his watches with Casper for repair. It is interesting to note that the soldier continuously refers to him as “Herr Ten Boom” and regards him fondly, which is quite respectful given that Casper is technically the Dutch captive, and the soldier the German captor. And Casper Ten Boom, being the ever so kind and just man he is, regards him just as fondly. In these few moments, we forget that the Nazi soldier is the enemy, who looks more like a grandson admiring Casper’s workmanship.
Similarly, towards the end of The Pianist (2002), protagonist Wladyslaw Spzpilman is able to touch the heart of Nazi officer Wilm Hosenfeld after beautifully playing a Chopin ballad. After managing to avoid the concentration camp due to a stroke of good luck thanks to his connection with the Jewish police force, Wladyslaw finally ends up hiding out in an old mansion in the abandoned ghetto. In the dead of night, as he is banging away on a can of food he is trying to open, Wladyslaw is discovered by a lone Nazi officer, Hosenfeld. Instead of killing him or taking him prisoner on the spot, Hosenfeld simply stares at him and asks him a few questions, one of which is what he does for a living, which Wladyslaw answers, “I am…I was a pianist.” Hosenfeld’s expression is first blank as he repeats “pianist”, then sighs and chuckles, motioning with his head towards Wladyslaw to follow him. Terrified, Wladyslaw limps his way over, pitifully remembering to take the can of food with him. Hosenfeld leads him to a room with a grand piano, and says flippantly, “Play something”, as though he does not believe such a feeble, crippled man like Wladyslaw is actually a pianist. The audience holds their breath, as it seems that this officer is testing our protagonist. Wladyslaw cradles his fingers before beginning the Chopin ballad, and already, from the first few notes, we can see the effect it has on Hosenfeld, who sits down and simply watches his new acquaintance play. Both Hosenfeld and Wladyslaw look as though they are being transported to a different time, remembering better memories or perhaps being reminded once again of tragic ones. Regardless, as the notes of the Chopin piece quicken, once again, we forget that there is a Jew and a Nazi in the room, and instead it is a pianist and his appreciative audience of one.
As soon as the last note is struck, Wladyslaw returns to being the shaking, pale, and unshaven beggar he has now become, and keeps his eyes downcast, still terrified. On the other hand, Hosenfeld stares at him, mouth agape in shock before asking, “Are you hiding here?” Wladyslaw nods. “Jew?” Hosenfeld asks, and it is important to note that this is the first time he asks this. Wladyslaw simply stares with wide eyes, unable to answer. Hosenfeld moves on without waiting for one, asking instead, “Where are you hiding yourself? Show me.” For the remainder of the film, Hosenfeld helps hide Wladyshaw up in the attic, bringing him bread and jam, and even gives him his Nazi coat so his new Jewish friend can stay warm. In addition, every time Hosenfeld visits Wladyslaw, he calls out “Jew?” in a very gentle manner, as though he is calling a friend. And finally, when the Nazis are moving out of Poland, Hosenfeld visits one last time, asking Wladyslaw’s name so he can listen for his playing on the Polish radio. “Spzilman hmm…a good name for a pianist” Hosenfeld says, with a good-natured and warm smile unexpected of a Nazi officer.
Therefore, it is fascinating to see how this theme of humanizing the enemy through art emerges despite the obvious differences between the film. The Hiding Place has a clear Christian agenda, which is obvious from the repeated quotation and interpretation of scripture and relevant biblical themes. On the contrary, The Pianist does not particularly concentrate on Judaism or any religion, and instead aims to portray the rather remarkable survival of a gifted Jewish pianist. However, as both films are both based on the much longer autobiographies of the same name, it is clear that both directors—with entirely different cinematic visions—believed these unexpected relationships with the enemy to be profoundly important when thinking about war. As viewers, it leads us to wonder who is the enemy, and what makes them that way. Could we treat them as such if we discover that they are actually just like us? Indeed, when we see Casper and the Nazi soldier, as well as Wladyslaw and Hosenfeld make connections, we also see the tragic stupidity of war.
Works Cited
The Hiding Place. Dir. James F. Collier. World Wide Pictures, 1975. Film.
The Pianist. Dir. Roman Polanski. R.P. Productions, Heritage Films, Studio Babelsberg, 2002. Film.
