The Things We Pretend

Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” drifts lazily in the background. Black and white color the screen, with shades of gray. A man is being led through a prison camp. As the chorus of Crosby’s song play, the camera pans to the Israeli flag. Opening irony foreshadows the future tone and outcome of Mother Night, the 1996 movie based on Kurt Vonnegut’s novel of the same name.

Many uncommon and highly effective cinematic devices are incorporated, making the movie a stimulating and thought-provoking work. The story outlines the life of Howard W. Campbell, Jr., “the last free American.” Using flashbacks, an imprisoned Campbell relives the events of his life in a memoir for the Israel War Crime Tribune. It chronicles his family’s move to Germany early in his life, where he grew up, became a famous playwright, and married a beautiful German actress, Helga Nothe. Before the outbreak of the Second World War, Campbell is seduced into becoming an Allied spy, having been warned that the United States will not defend him if he is caught. He becomes a well-known radio personality, spouting Nazi propaganda but using a secret code to pass information along to the Allies. During the course of the war, Campbell’s wife dies, and he loses all motivation to live. An aborted suicide attempt ends that period of Campbell’s life.

The movie fast-forwards to 1960s New York, where a disillusioned and displaced Campbell lives under his own name in a housing-complex filled with characters who will come to play a large role in the rest of his life mainly two Auschwitz survivors and a painter named George Kraft. After befriending the painter, he confesses his past, whereupon it comes back to haunt him. His whereabouts are discovered and published by a group of comical Neo-Nazi men, who come bearing a surprise—his wife Helga, apparently, at least, who he had believed was dead. This begins a series of surprising and saddening events that shape the latter half of the film, resulting in final trip to Haifa, Israel, awaiting trial for his role in the Holocaust. There he questions his own true role in the War. Was he a true Nazi, or just an Allied spy pretending to be one? Campbell’s voice-overs warn us that “the moral here is: you must be careful what you pretend to be because in the end you are who you're pretending to be.”

One of the most notable aspects of this movie is the cast. Nick Nolte, who played Campbell, performs incredibly well, portraying the emotions and aging process of his character wonderfully. Standing tall at Nazi parties, Campbell is full of youth and arrogance; at the loss of his wife, the despair etches lines into his face; and at her rediscovery, life enters the old, weakened frame yet again. Nolte demonstrates strong acting abilities, playing a character who ranges in age over a period of twenty-odd years, and has a emotional range just as wide. More notable characters are the comical neo-Nazis that Campbell encounters in the New York. The men are lively and entertaining, if a bit over-the-top. Also to be complimented are the actors portraying Helga, Campbell’s beautiful and sadly troubled wife, and Campbell’s “blue fairy godmother,” Frank Wirtanen, who introduced him to life as an Allied spy. The actors’ voices, bodies, and expressions bring their characters to life.

Through its creative color techniques, the movie sets itself apart from others that use the flashback method to tell their stories. The movie works against the norm, showing Campbell’s present is in black and white, while his past is filled with color and life. The chromatic scheme emphasizes the fact that Campbell’s current life is empty and without purpose, while his past was meaningful and promising. The colors are also affected by the mood of each particular point in the movie—after the loss of Helga, Campbell’s world is muted, although still in color, and there is less action. When she is rediscovered, the world again brightens, and background actions return.

The most effective part of the movie is one that many people may not consciously recognize. However, the music in this movie has a major effect on the viewer, and on the characters. Music opens the movie, setting the ironic tone with “White Christmas.” But at other, more subtle points the background music is incorporated into the scene; for instance, when Campbell must tell Helga’s little sister, Resi, that he must kill her dog. When Campbell enters the music room, the little girl is sitting on a couch, petting her dog. The girl is stroking her dog in time to the music. Little effects like this occur occasionally throughout the film, enhancing the mood and emotion within each scene. The music ties the audience into the characters; it places all the viewers into the movie, creating a subconscious connection to the actions onscreen.

Overall, the movie Mother Night is a wonderful, thought-provoking film. It is what every book-turned-film should aspire to be—one with a faithful plot, enhanced by both subtle and overt adaptations of the tone of the original novel. The actors are superb, with Nolte being the jewel in the crown. The cinematography is creative and attractive, silently presenting the viewers with deeper insight into the main character. Finally, the incorporation of music into the script heightens the viewers’ awareness of certain situations and feelings, and draws the crowd into the film, making them become characters in the charade that is Campbell’s life. All of these elements combine to create a truly great movie, that forces us to ask ourselves—are we really what we are pretending to be?