In 1940, even before the violent bloodshed began, Rudolph was sent to the eastern lands of the Third Reich, which in those years was rapidly expanding its borders. The young man was to design, build and operate one of the largest enterprises in the country. This was so important that he received the appointment from Heinrich Himmler himself.
And yet the work did not overshadow the rest of Rudolph's life. As a loving husband and father of four, after moving, he was primarily concerned about the comfort of his own family. Rudolph got a plot just a few steps away from work — with a dilapidated house and a spacious piece of land on which a beautiful garden could bloom.
In subsequent years, Rudolph combined serving his homeland with arranging family life. The recently empty backyard was covered with greenery, and a greenhouse was built in its far corner. The house was brought into perfect condition: the cracks were patched up, the walls of the rooms were painted in gentle tones, and the facade was covered with strict cleanliness. For Rudolph's wife, whose mother once served a Jewish lady, this was the ultimate dream.
Rudolph devotes his free time from the hustle and bustle of work to everyday life and communicating with loved ones. So, on fine summer days, a large family goes to the river, where they bask in the shade and make plans for the future. While the kids are splashing in the water, Rudolph and his wife dream of promoting him, which will make their lives a little more beautiful and elegant, and give their children new prospects.
But being close to work has drawbacks. Sometimes Auschwitz camp guests make too much noise, at night a man-made glow burns all over the area, and when the wind goes wrong, the snow-white linen that dries outside becomes dirty with ash soot. Local water bodies are also periodically covered with a whitish foaming substance, but this is inconvenient only when children are frolicking in them, as they will have to be bathed again.
In a few years, Rudolph Hess will testify at the Nuremberg trials and then travel to Poland, where he will be hanged by a national tribunal. But Jonathan Glazer's “The Zone of Interest” is not interested in the last breath of absolute evil. Its main character appears to be an ordinary bureaucrat, petty striving for a well-fed life and an impressive career.
The Nazi regime's bloodlust is not only behind the scenes; it silently watches what is happening from arm's length, not attracting too much attention. Rudolph, once an ardent Catholic and now commandant of Auschwitz, traded faith in God and the pursuit of the common good for the worship of state ideology for the sake of personal comfort. For him, someone else's life is a barely noticeable bump on the way to a lavish dinner.
Because of this consumer approach, “gifts from work” are drawn to the Hess house in a string. Rudolph sends clothes to his household members, from fur coats to underwear, which only need to be washed and patched up a little. On particularly successful days, you can get hold of lipstick or almost new shadows. And once a year, you can also find a small diamond at the bottom of a toothpaste tube.
Like the main character of “Azor”, Rudolph Hess, as presented by Jonathan Glazer, was well aware that he was making a deal with his conscience for profit. But while Argentina was tormented in the 1980s by a military junta that relied on gangster methods, Germany in the mid-20th century was drowning in cannibal ideology that, for example, could be avoided through bureaucratic fuss.
This is exactly what Rudolph does. While the world is in flames and the sweet aroma of smoldering bodies grows in the air, he, like a loyal dog, yearns to increase the productivity of the enterprise entrusted to him. For the wife and children, for the beloved horse, which faithfully deserves a warm stall and attentive care, or for a blooming garden that requires ash feeding.
The bureaucrat, whose love for work and responsibility killed hundreds of thousands of innocent people, was not driven by innate cruelty or resentment towards the whole world. He just joined someone else's system and turned a blind eye to her crimes. And the justification for this connivance was such petty and limited virtues that Rudolph endowed with his family that an evil of remarkable directness grew through them.
Moreover, Jonathan Glazer argues that this evil did not have an obvious political dimension. Rudolph could well have obeyed Paul Pot, Pablo Escobar, or Augusto Pinochet, who, by sheer luck, did not turn out to be a vampire. The main thing is that this blind service, soaked in blood, should be of personal benefit.
During a celebration that brought together the lights of the Nazi regime, Rudolph went out to the balcony hanging over one of the rooms, as the crowd downstairs babbled about everyday details. Some discussed theater, others recalled vacations. But Rudolph thought only about his work; he tried to figure out how to strangle those present with gas, which was another task because of the high ceilings. And his dreams of new pants and a promotion prompted him to think about it.
