Showing posts with label holocaust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holocaust. Show all posts

26/02/2025

On The Brutalist, Talking With Brady Corbet And Mona Fastvold

 


 

“Architecture is a language. When you are very good, you can be a poet.” So wrote the spectacularly good Brutalist architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. It’s a fair guess Brady Corbet and his longtime co-screenwriter Mona Fastvold have encountered this quote, and that they recognize the affinities between architecture and movies. Being good in either medium requires a sure knowledge of your materials, an ability to translate imagined designs into physical reality, to assemble and guide teams of inspired collaborators and to know or intuit more than a little about visual textures, space and light and how to move people through them. Another essential requirement: an aptitude for gathering immodest sums of money.

As if to prove how uncomfortably obvious this comparison can be, there aren’t all that many great or even good movies featuring architects as central protagonists, and they almost never leap, as Mies would have it, into poetry. (Notable exceptions include two feverish American movies starring Gary Cooper: Henry Hathaway’s Peter Ibbetson [1935] and King Vidor’s The Fountainhead [1949].) And so The Brutalist stands apart. A passionately inventive epic, bristling with ambition, historical references and allusions to cinematic predecessors, the film showcases larger-than-life performances within a story that both adheres to and challenges timeworn ideas about genius and suffering, art and commerce, personal and collective truth. Yes, Adrien Brody’s dispossessed visionary architect gets blindsided by the contradictions of capitalism after being uplifted and betrayed by a demonic patron (Guy Pearce), but Corbet and Fastvold also want us to track the tenderness and strength of their primary female characters (played by Felicity Jones and Raffey Cassidy), to bring forth a bitter and possibly ironic apprehension of the film’s thematic frame: the Holocaust’s long shadow experienced within the haze of the American Dream.

I made my way through the Brutalistic poured-concrete lobby walls of A24’s New York offices to interview Corbet and Fastvold on December 9th, 2024. We could have talked about their film for a few hours, I felt, and they, on that day, certainly did, as our Q&A was wedged within a tightly crowded press junket. The following is distilled from my allotted twenty-five minutes; the conversation was rounded out later, briefly and over the phone, with Brady alone.

Almereyda: I’d like to start with a blunt, personal question: How did you meet? How did you start working together?

Fastvold: We were introduced by a mutual friend, Chris Abbott, when I first came to New York around 2003, 2004. We became friends right away. I was in the process of trying to make my first film, so Brady and I started working on the script together, then I convinced him to act in it, because he was still doing that at the time. Begrudgingly! You didn’t really want to, but I made you. Chris and Brady both acted in that. Brady and I were editing it together as well and worked on the film the way that we’ve continued working on our films. It’s a very clear director on each, but still we were very much involved with each film from beginning to end. Later on we became a couple, but we made that film first.

Corbet: I think part of the reason we’re still able to work together is because that’s how we met. I think it might have been more difficult if we were a couple and then tried to work together. But it’s sort of the only way that we know how to relate to each other. We’ve always done it that way.

Almereyda: The first time I saw The Brutalist, I was so dazzled by the shot of László (Adrien Brody) emerging into the open light and seeing the Statue of Liberty that I wasn’t really conscious of the voiceover, and I didn’t remember how the movie is framed by shots of the intensely distressed niece: two shots—one dissolves into the next—and then she comes back at the end. Can you talk about why that became important? I assume it was in the script.

Corbet: It was. The screenplay always opened that way, with this brief moment with Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy). I think it’s because we were concerned about contributing to the canon of films about male genius and legacy. These characters were very much written to their circumstances: the character is a middle-aged man because, in the 1950s, of course he would have been a middle-aged man. The characters are Jewish, because it was predominantly Jewish Architects that were at the Bauhaus before it was eventually shut down by the National Socialists. We felt that it was extremely important that the film seems to be about his legacy as it relates to his body of work, when in fact it is about his legacy in the path that he’s forged for his niece having inadvertently given a voice to the voiceless. We wanted to draw everyone’s attention to this character that otherwise would have seemed quite peripheral.

Fastvold: Erzsébet (Felicity Jones) enters into the film right at the beginning through the letters, so we wanted her presence to be strong from the very beginning. She is a female character that we’re not so used to seeing in these types of films about brilliant men. It was important to us to show this relationship that we recognize so much more—other artists that we know, couples with two intellectuals who respect one another—instead of this cliche of the sad housewife at home who’s angry that he’s fulfilling his dreams and she’s not. That’s not Erzsébet at all; she says, “You should go and make whatever the hell you want to make and I’m going to support you. I understand what you’re making and why you’re making it, but stop being such an asshole about it.” What she’s saying is, “Don’t lose yourself in it.” She has perspective that he doesn’t. We can both play that role with one another, to say, “Don’t lose perspective. Come back down to earth. Ground yourself. See this from a pragmatic point of view.” And I thought that her character being portrayed that way versus this other cliche—

 


 

 

Corbet: This doting housewife—

Fastvold: Yeah, or frustrated, where she’s like “I don’t understand why you’re not thinking about money and food on the table.” She says, “I’ll take care of it. I’ll figure out that. Just don’t lose yourself in this toxic relationship.” Because she’s not fooled by him at all. She sees who Van Buren is from the get-go.

Corbet: It’s something that’s usually celebrated after the fact, but as you well know, making something requires a level of obsession that always borders on the unhealthy. You are, in fact, putting all of your relationships second. It’s the only way that these things tend to get off the ground. I mean, now more than ever, when there’s not a real appetite for very transgressive or radical or ambitious movies anymore, or films that have a poetic logic.

Almereyda: That’s a great way to put it.

Corbet: That is just something that’s not widely embraced at the moment. You have to just kick the tires over and over again. Films tend to get made as long as you don’t stop making them. It took seven years, but it could have easily been another 10 to 15. Look at what Jon [Jonathan Glazer] went through bringing Under the Skin to life. How many iterations were there? Or Coppola this year with Megalopolis. It can be an even longer journey. So, I can’t really complain too much about the fact that it took as long as it did, especially given that COVID was smack dab in the middle of all of it.

Almereyda: You landed in exactly the right spot. I read about your initial cast, and it seems like you’ve transcended it. You wound up with exactly the right people.

Corbet: Yeah, these projects are pretty self-selecting. The people that you should be working with are usually the people that you do end up working with, because [the parts are] very difficult. On the page, I think that most actors know right away whether or not they can pull it off, and they’re really big asks. The Hungarian accent alone can easily drift into Bela Lugosi territory if you’re not really careful. Everyone that worked on the movie had a really strong sense of what to do with it. I don’t feel that we teased these performances out of the cast. Everyone came really prepared. We’re fortunate that as we’ve gotten older and have a body of work that gives context to who we are and what we do, normally now the people that show up to work with us know what they’re making. Which is really helpful, because when we first started out, it was different. People didn’t know what to make of it. They thought “OK, I like it enough maybe to be involved,” but they didn’t know exactly what they were making. But with this film, everybody was excited to be making this movie with us, and I feel like that was the first time we’d ever really experienced that.

Almereyda: I know Ethan Hawke is a big fan of the movie, and we made a biopic about a tormented genius that was also made for very little money—much less than yours—and one of my regrets, especially in relation to your film, is that I didn’t allow the character to stop sulking in disappointment, fuming about being thwarted and cheated. Adrien Brody’s performance has so many wild mood swings. So many displays of joy—exaltation and triumph countering every episode of disappointment. The pendulum swings are part of the great energy of the movie. How much were you conscious of giving him these highs and lows?

Corbet: On the page, the character was a lot colder, and there is a natural warmth that Adrien imbued the role with. Even in the sequence that establishes his impotence at the brothel in the beginning of the movie, there’s still something sweet about him. That’s something that’s hard to plan for. One of my good friends saw the film, who also read the screenplay, and was like “I was really surprised by the fact that there’s so much warmth and joy in the movie.” I think that as a filmmaker it’s so important that if somebody has a better idea, don’t shut it down. I’ve really learned that the sort of myopia of conceiving of a project—that’s one thing and that’s one part of the process. But if you don’t share it with everyone—if that warmth was something that I had tried to stifle in Adrien’s performance, I just don’t think it would be the same film. If there’s a new texture or a new color, I always try to remind myself that just because it’s a surprise doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.

Fastvold: And Alessandro Nivola and Adrien had just immediate chemistry. They played off each other so well. There’s that playfulness that Alessandro brought out of Adrien’s character. That was a history that he chose for the characters that’s just hinted at in the script, but they really played into it.

Almereyda: That makes the betrayal more hurtful.

Fastvold: Yes! And I think it was a great choice of Alessandro’s to bring that into the relationship. There’s this little moment when they finished the library and they’re doing this little tap dance moment that they just improvised. Or did you tell them to?

Corbet: No, they totally improvised it. What I loved about it too is that those guys are both so clever—it feels very of the period. Normally, as you know, when you’re making a period piece, you don’t invite a lot of improv because people start saying things like “like,” “um,” “awesome.” But their point of reference for all of this was so strong. Alessandro’s grandfather, for example, is Constantino Nivola, a sculptor that had sculptures in many of Breuer’s lobbies, so he really understood what the film was about. Everyone was really connected to it. And Felicity, who doesn’t have a family history in common with the character, it was just subject matter that she was really passionate about and interested in. 85% of the people that might have been right for the roles physically, they just didn’t get it. That’s what I mean when I say the project was self-selecting, because it ruled a lot of folks out.

Fastvold: Felicity also infuses her with so much warmth and strength, which I thought was crucial for the character. Same with Adrien. It could have been played much darker. Obviously, the successes and failures of the character, they’re scripted. But the specificity of his enjoyment of it all is something that I really love in good performers.

Almereyda: It gives you a full human being.

Corbet: Yeah, Adrien, like, eating an apple! He just keeps on doing it. As I cut, he’s like “I’m not quite done yet.”

Almereyda: I want to get back to what you’ve called the poetic logic of the film. It’s a film of great oppositions, thematically, that get translated into images and dramatic conflicts. But one of the things that’s amazing to me is how history is active within the film. This is shared with The Childhood of a Leader, the feeling that history is like an underlayer, like canvas showing through a painting, but it’s also a shadow pressing down on the characters. One of the ways that you key the audience into this is with archival footage and music, rooted in history. How much of that is done in advance? How thorough and deep does the research go before you start?

Corbet: Some of the archival sequences, for example, were scripted, and some were found along the way while we were pulling stuff for those sequences. That extraordinary footage we found on the history of the Christian tradition and industrialization in Pennsylvania, when we found that we were like, “Oh, well, we’ve got to open the movie this way. I mean, this is so fantastic.” I often speak about W.G. Sebald, Robert Musil, Ingeborg Bachman, V.S. Naipaul and Paul Celan—a handful of writers who have this feeling for history that is in the text that transcends the linear nature of the way that we’ve been taught history, where it’s just basically dates and events, cause and effect.

 


 

Fastvold: “This is a fact. This is what happened.”

Corbet: It’s not fungible!

Fastvold: Who knows? I mean there’s of course facts, but when you start writing history, it all becomes slightly fiction as well. There are always details and parts of it that are—

Corbet: —invented by the storyteller. I just feel a more honest relationship with history from Sebald than I do from even great historical writers like David McCullough, because they found a way to this concussed feeling of the trauma and burden of history. And the fact that this is something that we carry with us all the time—

Fastvold: —connecting events that are not obviously connected. I think it’s what Sebald does a lot. He speaks about something that happens in one part of the globe, and then another, completely unaware of each other, but somehow these events speak to him.

Corbet: A butterfly flaps its wings. But it’s one thing to say it, it’s another thing to feel it. And I think it’s the reason that I’m constantly doing these historical projects. I’m using the same actor to play a character and then that character’s child or family member. It’s because it’s one thing to say that history repeats itself, it’s another thing to feel it as a viewer. There’s something about it that’s quite disturbing. It really challenges the system of belief that you have built over the course of the entire film.

Fastvold: It’s a little Brechtian in that way where you’re saying like “Wake up and let’s talk. Let’s look at the ideas and the things that we’re talking, not just be lulled and seduced.”

Corbet: It’s an architecture which reveals its nuts and bolts.

Fastvold: Similar to Brutalism.

Almereyda: Absolutely. There’s a quote from Goethe read in voiceover early on, in Erzsébet’s letter: “None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.”  That’s obviously important to you. Did you have that going into the film?

Fastvold: I don’t know when it came to me in writing that letter. I just don’t remember when I stumbled upon it or how. But it somehow felt right. I wanted us to know that the person writing was a person who had knowledge of history and literature. The way she’s writing to László has almost a sense of humor, albeit a very very dark one, but still saying, “It’s as bad as you thought it would be, not worse.” And all these things establish the way that the two of them spoke to one another. It’s important.

Corbet: I also think that there’s never been a period of my life where I wasn’t reading Goethe.

Fastvold: That’s true. (Laughs)

Corbet: There’s only a handful of writers that are just always there. It’s so rich and it just feels like the foundation for almost all great literature. It’s sort of like, okay, well you had Homer, then you had Goethe.

Almereyda: 300 years later, he’s still going strong. But that opposition between freedom and imprisonment is one of the many polarities in the film. It’s very dramatic and very clear. Two words that get thrown around, or woven into the film, are “beautiful” and “ugly.” How conscious or careful were you in how those words come up? Because they felt very intentional and strong.

Fastvold: They are, but they are also funny. I mean, “beautiful” and “ugly” is completely subjective, right? So, it’s funny László is using it as an insult—twice! Most of all “ugly,” to me, is childish, almost because it’s so subjective to say.

Corbet: But artists are sort of juvenile. One has to hold on themselves across so many decades; there is a part of every artist I’ve ever met that has just never changed. I remember working with Michael Haneke many years ago and Michael had quite a juvenile sense of humor—in the loveliest way, because it was very disarming, especially when you’re expecting the maestro. I always found him surprisingly delightful. In my experience, serious work is not necessarily made by serious people, so there is something in this portrait of an artist that we wanted to explore. We didn’t want to rehash the tortured genius in a way that that one might fall victim to.

Fastvold: It’s not about “This is so brilliant, this construct of all my brilliant ideas creates this marvelous thing.” He’s like, “This is beautiful and interesting, and what you’re doing is ugly and stupid.”

Corbet: At least he’s in pursuit of a progressive idea. Whether the building is beautiful or not, I don’t even really know.

Almereyda: One of the other elements of humor comes from Guy Pearce’s performance—nailing Van Buren’s pretension and self-deception. In any case, I think the film carries a lot of traditions on its back, a legacy of references and ambitions, but the way sex works in the story is unusual, unexpectedly bold. How much did you calibrate the explicitness of it?

 


 

Fastvold: I love writing sex scenes and love scenes in films, because I think it’s so important. It’s such a wonderful tool to show a relationship, to understand a relationship, without spelling it out, without talking about it. It’s a wordless way that we can communicate through images the subtleties of that dynamic. Of course, there were parts of the story that explore sexual violence, but that is not about sex, that is about power. The love scenes to me were really a way of showing how Erzsébet is stronger in many ways than László, and how she can hold their trauma—not just hers but his as well. They’re reclaiming their bodies, which have been taken from them.

Corbet: That’s exactly why, in the first five minutes, it was so important to be confronted with his impotence—here he is, completely unable to perform after what he’s been through—and then to see the journey of becoming a human being again. Finally, there’s also something kind of funny about the upside of drug abuse, which allows these two characters that couldn’t really connect prior to that night. There’s one last thing, which is a technical thing, but it’s something that I feel like you might really appreciate. The sex scenes were all shot by putting a 435 into service mode. So essentially what it does, because the aperture never closes, is it streams the highlights and gives the images this extraordinary quality where it’s like an Aura-cam. You can see both of them and the glow of their skin. [An “aura cam” is a toylike camera employed by psychics to track a person’s aura, naturally, as displayed in a range of soft gassy colors.]

Almereyda: I was wondering about that. And how did you discover it?

Corbet: Lol Crawley and I love this film, Love is the Devil, about Francis Bacon from the early 90s. John Mathieson shot it and there was something very interesting, which was that they couldn’t access Bacon’s paintings. And because of that effect, without the cardinals and stuff, of the streaming highlights that come from all of the Bacon paintings, they figured out how to evoke those paintings. Lol and I had never seen it before and we don’t think we’ve seen it since, so it was really this insane process of trial and error. Because the first time that we shot with it, nothing ended up on the negative. It was an extremely expensive process because it’s like ceramics; you’re not paying for the bowl, you’re paying for the bowls that broke. It was a bit like that. And you know, the third time was the charm. And Mona shot the sex scene while we were busy shooting something else. Mona shot a lot of the most beautiful stuff in the movie. We kept stumbling when we were trying to do it, because you have to put tape on the camera, so you can’t see anything. Once you put it in service mode, you can’t look through the eyepiece anymore.

Almereyda: The tension between aesthetics and politics is underlined when the story shifts to Italy and a captivating new character shows up, Orazio the stonecutter, who has left the mountains just once, “to beat the corpse of Mussolini with my bare hands.” He says he’s an anarchist, having fought in the Resistance, trapping fascists in caves and dropping stones on them. Is Orazio’s backstory as important as I think it is? How did you decide to present this rhapsodic interlude just ahead of a scene where Van Buren reveals himself to be an absolute villain?

Corbet: The film is sort of a 1950s melodrama. Everything is taken to operatic extremes, and Guy’s character is very much like an antagonist you would have in a film from mid-century a la James Mason. And I felt that this transgression in Carrera had to happen there—it wouldn’t mean the same thing elsewhere. The marble quarries felt like the appropriate visual allegory because the film is very much about this agent who wants to possess that which cannot or should not be possessed. The quarry is a very beautiful place, but a very violent place. We take a bite out of Mother Nature and she gets pretty pissed off about it. There are constant rock slides, it’s quite dangerous, and ultimately it’s one thing for it to be the source of Michelangelo’s Pietà, but now it’s primarily a material that’s used to surface people’s bathrooms and kitchens.

We had this rule that every single character in the film has a backstory and a different relationship with the Second World War. Isaach De Bankolé’s character as well as Guy’s character as well as Joe Alwyn’s character—there are no absolutely peripheral characters. Everyone has a link to the central theme of the movie, which is about this post-traumatic generation processing what happened with the Second World War—with both World Wars really, back to back. I looked at a lot of different guys for Orazio. Salvatore Sansone is predominantly a painter and a writer, and he looks so incredibly iconic, and has this beautiful voice, so I asked if he would do it. He gives it this kind of mystical quality, like the old man in the mountain.

Almereyda: He has a timelessness. It’s rare in a movie for a character to drop in and drop out and have so much impact.

Corbet: He’s a poet. I knew that he would bring this heft to it that other folks wouldn’t, given the short amount of screen time.

Almereyda: It seems that Orazio’s political virtue is fused with his belief in beauty, and then Harrison sort of challenges that idea, with his preening admiration for beauty. Can you talk a little about this moral imbalance?

Corbet: You have two characters, László and Orazio, interfacing with their oppressor. The oppressor has a new face, a new nationality. László and Orazio have a mutual respect, and a respect for the place, whereas for Guy’s character, he’s almost aroused by the impossibility of this two- or three-ton stone that’s been channeled from the earth being pillaged. It really turns him on. When I sent it to Guy, I said “It’s really fetishistic, when he puts his face against the stone.” What’s funny is I watched buyers doing exactly that, putting their cheeks against the marble, when we went to scout. There’s something mystical about it, but it’s also inherently absurd, because it is just a big piece of stone.

Almereyda: Was Orazio’s disembodied dialogue planned to play this way, before you shot the scene, or did you arrive at it in the editing?

Corbet: It absolutely wasn’t conceived that way. The reason we decided to basically lose sync, and trail off in these overlapping voiceovers, was because the fog was impossible for us to control, so we had major continuity issues. I was like, “We’ve already established this language earlier in the film, with the night where Alessandro, Emma and Adrien are dancing to Dinah Shore, when the reality becomes a little like liquid, with flash-forwards and flashbacks to earlier in the evening.” The whole idea was to represent how one might recall that evening, so that when he gets kicked out and Atilla accuses him of making this pass at her, there’s at least a part of you that wonders “Well, I don’t know. Did he? Did I miss that?” So the language had been established that allowed us to do that with Orazio.

Almereyda: When Orazio pours the water over the marble, is that a conventional thing to do?

Corbet: It is a conventional thing to do. It’s essentially the same ingredient that’s in toothpaste, I forget what it’s called, but they cover the stones in it to preserve the stone. Basically whenever a buyer arrives, they pour water on the stone so that you can see veining and assess the quality of the veining.

Almereyda: The whole scene shimmers.


Taking Everything to Extremes: A Conversation Between Michael Almereyda, Brady Corbet and Mona Fastvold on The Brutalist. By Michale Almereyda. Filmmaker Magazine, February 20,2025.  
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

In the wake of its success at the Golden Globes and its current frontrunner status at the Academy Awards, Brady Corbet’s film The Brutalist has been one of the most acclaimed and discussed films of the year. Not something that its premise as a three-and-a-half-hour film about a fictional architect would suggest.

Andy Hazel from the Curb caught up with Corbet to talk expectations, exhaustion and excellence.

Since it arrived at the 2024 Venice Film Festival, where you won the Best Director prize, The Brutalist has been collecting prizes and getting rave reviews. Are you surprised by this response?

Brady Corbet: I am surprised. It’s hard to have expectations while making a film. After working on post-production for 20 months, you start hoping for the best but expecting the worst—that’s just life. We knew the film’s length, gargantuan as it is, would be a challenge, especially from a relatively unknown filmmaker. But I couldn’t find a way to make it shorter. Every cut felt like it hurt the film holistically. We always knew the movie would be long, but we didn’t think it would be this long.

But also, time is a very important ingredient in the recipe, and when you’re making a movie about a character’s entire life, things could suddenly feel very rushed. The final version of the movie is the screenplay. There’s not a single scene in the movie which is missing. My wife [co-screenwriter Mona Fastvold] and I try to remind ourselves to trust the material.

Executing a movie, there are practicalities that you’re facing because every single day that you’re not delivering a movie it’s very expensive, you start accruing interest on the loans and there’s a lot of pressure to get it done. We talked about the screenplay for a long time before we executed the draft and we executed the draft very quickly, but because we did it early, we didn’t have a gun to our head. I think that you tend to make better creative decisions in that part of the process rather than later.

Is this what success and acceptance looks like for you?

BC: I don’t know. I haven’t had enough time to process the response to the movie. I’ve been on the road since we premiered the film in September and prior to that I was shooting another movie with my wife that she directed, a musical that we wrote together, so it’s been a sort of marathon after marathon the last couple of years.

I hope making the next one is a little bit more peaceful and it comes together a little bit faster. Ideally, I wouldn’t like almost a decade to pass between films every time. But, with success also comes expectations and that’s a reality that I haven’t even really thought about yet. Because post-production on The Brutalist was so long, I’ve already been planning for my next project, and it’s a radical movie in a very different way. I think it’s very important to never repeat yourself.

Can you give examples of how you’ve done this?

BC: After I’d made Childhood of a Leader, I was like, what’s the most dangerous thing I could possibly do? I’d just made a film that was set in the early twentieth century with a lot of heavy drapery and a very specific period style and tone. I thought the most dangerous thing I can do next is to make a movie about right now. I was tired of the lace and linens, and I really needed to do a movie that was all pleather.

Vox Lux was conceived in this bifurcated way, it’s missing a second act, which was the film’s experiment. To omit the passage which an audience anticipates. There’s a sort of brutality to that experience where it’s very difficult to let go of part one, and in part two, it’s a different group of actors, it’s a different tone and style entirely. There was something about that which was quite dangerous and quite interesting to me. But after I made a film without a second act, I was like, maybe for the next one it’s the second, third, fourth and fifth act.

So, I think you’re always in this sort of dialogue with yourself. And with Mona, we’re able to have these conversations where we explore the form and see how much we can bend it before it breaks.

In 2016 you said that you gave up making Childhood of a Leader because the film was too ambitious. Later, you met Mona, and she encouraged you to see it through. Could you talk a little bit about how you work together?

BC: We have different complementary strengths, and we recognised that in one another early on. It’s very helpful to have someone who, when you’re running out of steam, encourages you to keep going. I made Childhood when I was 25, but I had been working on it since I was 20, 21 years old, trying to get this period piece starring a seven-year-old off the ground. I shot the film in 25 days or 24 days, but because we were working with a child, it was only about 8 to 9 hours a day on set. Vox Lux was shot in 22 days, but at least I was working with Raffey [Cassidy] at the time, who had teenage hours that were slightly more forgiving. The Brutalist was shot in 33 days, which felt like a luxury compared to the previous two movies, just to have a little bit more real estate to work with in terms of planning a schedule. But of course, because this was also longer, the screenplay was about 170 pages, so we had to shoot about seven pages or so a day.

That seems remarkable. Your films seem to take a long time to come together, and you have a very clear idea of what you want. What is it that keeps you from compromising?

BC: [long pause] It’s an unhealthy way of living. It requires a level of obsessiveness and stubbornness that’s probably not so pleasant to be around all the time.

Have you always worked this way?

BC: I’m an only child who grew up with a single mother and my mother was extremely supportive. She really treated me with a lot of respect from a very early age, and I try to treat my own daughter with that same level of respect because I remember how much I appreciated it when I was her age. I’m the first generation in my family to work in movies, and I really kind of fell into it.

Pre-Windows 95, the way that national casting calls worked for young actors is that there were about 10 or 12 hubs across the US where all children were cast. So, whenever you were working with another child actor on a project, they always came from one of a handful of the same places. When I was seven years old, I happened to move to a small town, around 10,000 people, that happened to have this very legitimate casting that was happening locally. Because I was such a cinephile, my family encouraged me to audition for films at a young age. Then it kind of took on a life of its own.

As an actor, you’ve worked with directors like Lars von Trier, Ruben Östlund, Olivier Assayas, Catherine Hardwicke and Gregg Araki. How much did you learn from them, and how much did you learn from your own experiences as an actor?

BC: I’m a hundred percent sure that my experience of growing up on film sets gave me a real sensitivity to recognising the insecurities that folks have. Making a movie is exhausting. You’re generally sleeping two or three hours a night because whenever you’re not shooting, you’re scouting or planning for the next day. There’re simply not enough hours in a day when you’re making a movie. So, I think it probably did give me an understanding and an empathy for everyone involved. In terms of performance and anxiety, I really do everything in my power to create a space where people feel really supported. These are serious movies, but it’s important to us that no one feels like they’re being made by serious people. We want it to be a joy to come to work and we always encourage people to bring their kids and make it a familial experience.

In my experience that’s when some people do their best work. Obviously, there are different philosophies about that, but I think it’s important that there are monitors everywhere and that everyone can see what we’re working on. Gatekeeping can occasionally happen on set, when some people really don’t like having actors reviewing takes or anything like that, but I encourage everyone to participate in the process because it helps to orient them. It’s so hard when you’re acting for the camera if you have no sense that we’re on a wide lens or a tight lens.

Most of my favourite actors and a lot of the folks on this film are very technical. They’re very precise about blocking, they’re very precise about the text. There is a lot of dialogue in this film and there would be times when somebody would be struggling to spit out a word, and I’d say, ‘that’s okay, just make the words fit in your mouth. It’s no problem.’ And, and all of them, Guy [Pearce] and Adrien [Brody], would always say, ‘No. It’s written this way for a reason. Just give me a second, I’ll get it’. That was so wonderful.

Can you talk a little bit about casting and working with Adrien Brody? Did you audition him? Did you always have him in mind?

BC: I don’t do auditions. The only time that we ever hold casting sessions on any movie is for when you’re working locally, like we were when we were shooting in Hungary, and you just need to hear that someone can do an American accent or something like that. Some people do auditions that are 10, 13 pages long. That just ruins a performer’s week because they spent so much time memorising the text and I don’t like putting people through that.

But with Adrien, I knew a little bit about his background and his mother was a Hungarian refugee who emigrated during the revolution in the mid-50s. I knew that because he had grown up with Hungarian, it was a great place to start. He is a really fine actor. I didn’t have to coax anything out of him. He just, he read it, he understood it, and that goes for everybody in this movie, and it’s not always like that.

 


 

How much of Adrien Brody is in László Tóth?

BC: It’s hard to say. I mean, I always encourage a performer to bring as much of themselves to a role as possible, unless there is a very specific reason not to. Like what I wanted to achieve with Natalie Portman on Vox Lux was something transcendentally maximalist, something like performance art. And so that’s a different sort of very theatrical approach. But with this, the only theatricality that I was trying to keep in mind for not just myself but to remind all the performers was the films I was referencing, Rope and a lot of mid-century melodramas. Michael Powell movies and Doug Sirk movies, so we were sure to sort of evoke their style, especially because we were shooting on VistaVision, which is a camera engineered in the 50s. I wanted all of these things to be in lockstep, but because of the nature of the subject matter of this film, it was also important that there was a level of humanity and that the theatricality not overpower the humanity.

Someone who was very good at balancing those things was the musician Scott Walker, who died in 2019 and to whom The Brutalist is dedicated. He scored your first two films; did you also intend for him to work on this one?

BC: I don’t remember. He passed away just after Vox Lux, so it was early days. I expected to make all my movies with Scott because I didn’t know any other way. When I was finished with a movie, it was like, ‘okay, well, let’s hand it off to Scott’. One thing that was really nice about this project is that Daniel Blumberg, who scored The Brutalist, works with the same co-producer as Scott did, Peter Walsh, so a lot of things about this process were very familiar to me even though Scott and Daniel have a very, very different approach. For this movie, Daniel wanted to construct the tracks. It was part of the philosophy of making a film on brutalism that there were these particular kinds of sounds and processes he wanted to use. With Scott, we did big orchestral sessions and everything was recorded live. The Brutalist score comprises many individual sessions with artists like the saxophonist Evan Parker, pianist John Tilbury or, even Vince Clark from Erasure and Depeche Mode, who worked on 80s Moog synth version of the soundtrack at the end of the movie.

You’ve said that The Brutalist is not a political film, but you’ve also said that Donald Trump is on a mission to have all the brutalist buildings in Washington torn down. How do you feel about the film taking on political overtones on its release?

BC: Of course, all movies are viewed very much through the prism of the time that they come out in. But for me, it’s a funny thing, because my films are not made with a political intent. If you make a film with a political intent, it can segue into propaganda pretty quickly, even if its propaganda in service of a more or less righteous or moral cause.

I really resist interpreting the movies in a political way because I feel that we need a space that is outside of politics.

And I think that it’s important for us to reflect on historical events without viewing them through a political lens. But that said, even though they’re not made with a political intent, a viewer projects onto the vessel and inherently they become political. There’s nothing I can really do about that. If I could go and adjust absolutely everyone’s televisions and to make sure that they don’t have frame blending on and make sure that the movie doesn’t sound or look like shit when they see it [laughs]… at a certain point you give it away. People tend to imbue those projects with meaning from their own perspective and I encourage that.

I want to activate an audience. I want them to wrestle with the material. I don’t want to do all the work for them. I want to ensure there’s enough space for them to really engage.

Finally, how important are awards to you? You won two awards at the Venice Film Festival for Childhood of a Leader and Vox Lux was nominated for the Golden Lion. Usually, festival recognition and awards make funding the next project easier but, so far at least, that doesn’t seem to be the case for you.

BC: The jury in Venice this year was full of a lot of filmmakers and film workers that I really have a lot of respect for, so that was fantastic and very touching. But, you know, to be honest, I don’t even remember who won the Oscar or the Palme or whatever, three or four years ago. I’d have to really sit down and think about it.

I think that it’s very important for the commercial prospects for a movie and that’s really what they’re there for because it allows movies like the fantastic Zone of Interest to make $50 million worldwide. Zone of Interest. That it sold $50 million worth of movie tickets is extraordinary and I think it being recognised by the Academy, the Globes etc. contributed to that. That’s great, but beyond that, to me, it’s not… It’s a lot of pageantry, and sometimes that can be really fun.

But, when you’re done making a movie, you’re just so carved out and exhausted that the last thing you feel like doing is going to a party every night. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing. So, it won’t be until after award season that I’ll have time to reflect on the past few years and hopefully just focus on spending as much time with my daughter as humanly possible because she’s at an age now where I can’t take her out of school as often as I used to. Now, I’m just counting the days until I can be at home for longer than seven to ten days at a time.


“I want to Activate an Audience”: A Q&A with Brady Corbet, Director of The Brutalist. By Andy Hazel. The Curb, January 13, 2025.




 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 

20/11/2021

Rechnitz, A Novel, Hearsay, A Family History, Truth




It is a big surprise that Eva Menasse’s new novel does not appear on the longlist for the German Book Prize. In it, the writer, essayist and Berliner-by-choice talks masterfully about a Nazi crime and its consequences, without turning to moral literature. Because she does not rush to the sensational of the moment, but to the constantly everyday and thus the lies of life of an entire village community. A conversation about truth, lies and the federal election campaign as an imposition.
 
Eva Menasse, born 1970 in Vienna, initially worked as a journalist, in 2005 her debut novel, the family saga Vienna, appeared. She is the daughter of the footballer Hans Menasse, the author Robert Menasse is her brother. In 2019 she received the Ludwig Börne Prize
 
Friday: Ms. Menasse, in your new novel there is the dark secret of a war crime that everyone knows about but nobody speaks. Like in Rechnitz, where there was a massacre of Hungarian-Jewish forced laborers in the last days of the war. Is “Dunkelblum” a Rechnitz novel?
 
Eva Menasse: The historical research began, of course, at Rechnitz. But Rechnitz is only the most spectacular case of a whole series of such events that took place in Burgenland and Lower Austria in the last weeks of the Second World War. That electrified me. Today we count about 124 massacres in this area. Everyone is always talking about Rechnitz. But something broke out with brutal violence in the entire region when it was actually all over.
 
F : So not a Rechnitz novel?
 
EM : Dark flower is somehow already a Rechnitz novel, but again not. I fictionalized the entire landscape, the people, everything. It was about looking at the entire timeline since then. Because after a crime like that, it somehow goes on anyway. I wanted to know how the little people lived on after such an outbreak of violence – regardless of whether they were guilty of themselves or not. Today’s Rechnitzers would probably give a lot to ensure that someone finally finds this mass grave. History may not be coped with – an unfortunate word – but it has to be brought to some human conclusion. And in this case that would be finding the mass grave. Then this place would come to rest. The real Rechnitz stands there like a beacon in history. If you want to know what happens when you don’t speak, keep silent, hide everything and sweep it under the carpet, then it’s an impressive example.
 
F : Again and again you deal with dark historical chapters, for example in “The Holocaust in Court. The David Irving Trial ”. What do you like about it?
 
 
 EM : The riddles that I cannot fathom. I do all of this because I want to find out something. With David Irving, I wanted to understand how a really highly intelligent person comes on such a trip. And I think I understand that he doesn’t believe any of this at all. I’m relatively sure he’s just playing a diabolical game. In my eyes he is more of a player character than a real Holocaust denier. But of course my dealing with these issues is also a family legacy. I can’t get this story out of me. Maybe I’m doing a family job by dealing with it.
 
F : “Everyone involved knows the whole truth together. That’s why you never really get them together again afterwards, ”says the novel. Does literature have the function of preserving historical truths and certainties – especially when there are hardly any contemporary witnesses?
 
EM : Literature always has the same function. It can tell stories that have ambivalences and cannot be clarified with simple moral categories. Everything that resonates can be written down here. Journalism in its narrative forms can do that too, but history cannot. But she doesn’t need that either, she wants the durable, the facts. But why people act this way and not differently, or why someone is lying or shutting up at that very moment – the human aspect of all actions, so to speak – is what literature can best tell. The staff in Dark flower is invented. Still, it is hopefully a real book – not about Rechnitz, but about Dunkelblum.
 
F : You wrote the sentence that art arises in the gap between chaos and control. How does that work when you write?
 
EM : The novel was already a lot of chaos because I didn’t know how to tell the story and how to organize it. But maybe that creates the atmospheric more, because I always only notice when I’m writing where things are going on and how I have to do it. I like control too. But that doesn’t help if you sit down at your desk in the morning and don’t know what to do next. The game is in the head, and there it goes back and forth. If I know what to do next, it’s craft and control. The difficult thing is the structure, and it always begins in a chaos that has to be sorted out.
 
F : “Here our country is still as it was for centuries. We can be proud of that, ”said a resident of Dunkelblum. Are you serious?
 
EM : It’s one of those empty phrases that people utter when the day is long. Dialogue is important to me and I try to let people speak as they speak. Only Austrians are likely to notice that different social classes are also depicted. There are the very simple people who speak a very broad dialect and there are those who are a little educated. They also speak a little differently.
 
F : How important is the distance to Austria and the socio-political conditions there when writing?
 
EM : Very important. Writing Austrian novels from here in Berlin is exactly the extent of Austria that I can endure. I can no longer imagine returning to Austria. Somehow the country has become too small for me and only from a distance can I mobilize something like a sense of home in me, which then lead to such a book. But I really enjoyed the Austriaticisms, immersing myself in the Austrian language.
 
F : In your essay on compromise, you write that you have the impression that liberal societies have “become more uncompromising at all ends of the spectrum” in recent years – also due to digitization. Why is the compromise so out of fashion?
 
EM ; This has to do with the dogma of personalization. Everyone only accepts what is good for them. And that means that the sense of community has been lost. Nobody has to adapt anymore, which has led to a social neglect of prosperity, to a pronounced egoism, which of course contradicts any compromise. If you only encounter the world in a personalized way on the screen, then I no longer have to compromise with anyone. Then I can insult any cyclist who passes too close to me or even tear them off the bike. We are currently observing these tendencies of aggression everywhere.
 
 
F : They ask to talk about what troubles us. What is it that troubles you the most at the moment?
 
EM : This irreconcilability and the roaring at one another in our society. The mental brutality on the many social channels stunned me. The election campaign is also an imposition. In the end, we talked more about Baerbock plagiarism than about climate change. Or about the CDU’s responsibility that we are not much further with the conversion to climate-neutral technology. One should actually talk about it, but that is not happening. It’s all pretty unpleasant.
 
F : Debate is also irrelevant in the cultural sector.
 
EM : That’s right. The “Close everything up” campaign was one of those moments for me when I asked myself whether I was actually still right here. You don’t have to find satire good, but the accusation that artists are to blame for people to die because people may no longer wear masks because of satire is hysterical.
 
F : There are now publicists who are fleeing from Germany to Austria because of the culture of debate. Can you understand that?
 
EM : You mean Matthias Politycki. Have fun, I can only say. I’m already looking forward to his reports from the cozy, racist everyday life in Austria. The quality of life in Austria is very high, but you have to endure politics. Austria is increasingly becoming a banana republic. What is going on there politically is shameful.
 
F :  Do you see yourself as a writer who was born in Vienna and lives in Berlin, or rather an Austrian or Berlin author?
 
EM : I think writing is influenced by your reading biography, the texts you grew up with. And from what I’ve read and where I come from linguistically, I’m certainly an Austrian author. And I will stay that way too.
 
F : Does an award like that of your compatriot Clemens J. Setz with the Büchner Prize trigger something in the Austrian author?
 
EM : Yes, I have to admit that there is a weird little national pride at this point – we can write well, we weird Ösis. I don’t have that at all in football, I always stick with Germany. But I was very pleased that Clemens Setz was awarded the Büchner Prize.
 
Interview ǀ “Actually it was all over” – Friday. By Arjun Sethi. Codelist, September 7, 2021. 




Das blaue Sofa: Eva Menasse über "Dunkelblum".
 
Hans Dieter Heimendahl spricht mit Eva Menasse über ihr Buch "Dunkelblum".
Der Quernheim, November 8, 2021. 




She was a billionaire Countess who became one of the most powerful women in horse racing, mixing with royals and holding lavish parties at her Austrian castle.
 
But behind the glamour, Nazi socialite Margit Batthyany hid a murderous dark side that would see her dubbed the 'Hostess from Hell'.
 
During the last days of the war in 1945, Gestapo leaders, Nazi soldiers and socialites descended on the Countess' grand 17th-century castle in the quiet Austrian village of Rechnitz to drink and dance into the night.
 
The war was coming to an end and Red Army troops were only 10 days away from the village, near the Austria-Hungary border, when the Countess decided to hold a party on the eve of Palm Sunday.
 
It would later be known as the Rechnitz massacre - a murderous party that would host one of the last horrific Nazi crimes against Jewish people.
 
A wealthy descendant from the German Thyssen family, the glamorous socialite was a Nazi supporter who lived a lavish lifestyle thanks to her rich industrialist family.
 
She went on to own horse farms from Kentucky to France and won three major horse racing titles, including the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe in 1972 with the filly, San San - even rubbing shoulders with the Queen.
 
But her roaring racing success in the years after the war concealed her previous affairs with Nazi lovers and sick "kill the Jew" parties.
 
On March 24, 1945, nearly 200 Jewish prisoners were said to have been executed purely for entertainment during the party at her castle, according to author David R.L Litchfield.
 
Those who were unable to work were stripped naked and shot by drunken guests, while those who remained alive were then told to bury the dead before also being gunned down.
 
Other sick atrocities were also said to have been carried out at the castle after Jews were reportedly brought there to build a wall that would hold back Russian forces.
 
One witness describes how the twisted Countess prefered to have a front-row seat to the sadistic killings and beatings.
 
 
Nazi Lovers
 
The socialite became Countess Batthyany in 1933 after marrying Count Ivan Batthyany of Hungary - rescuing him from bankruptcy.
 
She lived in her husband's castle while socialising with her Nazi lovers before the Count retired to his nearby estate to breed horses.
 
At the close of the Second World War, Jewish prisoners from nearby work camps were moved on before the arrival of Russian troops and 600 were housed in the cellars of her castle.
 
At the time, two senior Nazis were said to be vying for the attention of the Countess - her part-time lover and Gestapo official, Franz Podezin, and Hans Joachim Oldenburg, a Nazi commander.
 
It is thought one of the men came up with the sick game of 'shoot the Jew' to try and impress her.
 
According to an article by author David Litchfield [ The Independent, October 7, 2007, editor] , At midnight Podezin took the countess and 15 guests to the barn and invited them to "kill some Jews".




 
After the massacre, the revellers continued to party, leaving 18 prisoners to bury the bodies and dig their own graves before they were shot.
 
Writing in the Lit Hub, Sacha Batthyany, a niece of the Countess who knew her as "Aunt Margit", said his father described the woman as a "monster".
 
He admitted a "crime was committed" and she had a "couple of affairs with Nazis" - but he insisted she wouldn't have been "involved" in the massacre.
 
The bodies of the victims have never been discovered, but the search for the site of one of the Second World War's most gruesome Nazi massacres is now taking place in Rechnitz.
 
Hungarian surgeon, Gabor Vadasz, 85, is the last known living relative of those who were slaughtered at the sick party.
 
"My father and the other forced labourers were either hunted and shot in the head, or beaten to death," he said.
 
"Afterwards, the perpetrators went back to the castle to continue the party.
 
"Those men were tortured and killed at this place for fun. I have been waiting for 73 years and I am getting closer and closer to the end of my life."
 
Soon after the killings, two witnesses to the horrific crime were killed, and a house containing key documents about the atrocities was burned to the ground.
 
The Countess had already fled to Switzerland where she enjoyed a long life and reputation as a champion horse breeder.
 
Nowadays, only the ruins of the castle remain after it was set alight as the Red Army arrived but in the 1960s, the graves of 18 victims were found.
 
A monument to commemorate the atrocity was erected at the rear of a local park decades later in 1987.
 
Trenches, bunkers and relics have been uncovered, but the burial site of the victims remains a mystery.
 
To this day no one was ever prosecuted for the massacre after an investigation in 1945 lead to two suspects being killed.
 
 Hostess from Hell. How evil Nazi ‘killer countess’ who met the Queen once shot 180 Jews for sick after-dinner party game. By Imogen Braddick. The U.S. Sun, September 9, 2021. 






It all began one Thursday in April, about seven years before my visit to Buenos Aires. At the time I was working for the Sunday edition of the Neue Zürcher Zeitung. It was early in the morning, when there was hardly anyone in the office, and all was calm. I was writing a column about a sperm donor from the Netherlands when a rather older woman colleague, who seldom had much to say to me, put a page of newsprint down on my desk and said, “That’s quite some family you have, don’t you?”
 
I glanced up and smiled at her. Only then did I look at the article she had torn out of the paper to show me. I was expecting something to do with the 19th century, elaborate period dresses maybe, or horses. Some bridge or other named after one of my forebears, an Àdám, Zsigmund or Ladislaus Batthyány; my surname is well known in Hungary. The Batthyánys had been counts, princes, bishops. One of them was prime minister of the country in 1849, another, Ladislaus Batthyány-Strattmann, was beatified in 2003 by Pope John Paul II for his services to Rome as a medical doctor. The family history can be followed back to the Turkish wars of the 14th century, although here in the West few people know the name, and why should they? They generally think it is Tamil, because the two letters ‘y’ in it suggest Sri Lanka. I get asked about it only during the Christmas holidays, when they show the trilogy of films about Sissi, the Empress Elisabeth of Austria, on TV at eleven in the morning, and the Empress, played by Romy Schneider, dances with a Count Batthyány who wears a baby-blue uniform and has a large amount of brilliantine on his hair.
 
So I expected something like that when I glanced at the newspaper, something harmless. Instead, I read the headline ‘The Hostess From Hell,’ which I didn’t understand, but I recognized the woman in the photograph at once. Aunt Margit. The story said that in March, 1945, she had taken part in the massacre of 180 Jews in the Austrian border town of Rechnitz. Apparently she had thrown a party, with dancing and drinking, and at midnight, for fun, the guests held pistols to the heads of naked Jews, men and women alike, and pulled the triggers.
 
“Thanks,” I said, putting the sheet of newsprint aside and returning to the cursor blinking on my screen. I still had two hours before handing in my piece about the Dutch sperm donor.
 
Aunt Margit? My great-aunt with the pointed tongue?
 
*
 
When I was a child, we went to have lunch with Aunt Margit three times a year, always at the most expensive restaurant in Zürich. My father chain-smoked in our white Opel all the way, my mother combed my hair with a plastic comb. We called her Aunt Margit, never just Margit, as if “Aunt” were a title. She had married my father’s uncle, but the marriage was disastrous from the first. Margit was a billionaire from the German Thyssen family. She was tall, with a large torso and thin legs. In my memory she always wears a skirt suit with the jacket buttoned up to her throat, and silk scarves with horse patterns on them; her crocodile handbag is claret-colored with gold clasps, and when she talks about deer in the rutting season or cruising in the Aegean, she puts out the tip of her tongue like a lizard in the pauses between sentences. I sit as far away as possible from her. Aunt Margit hated children, and while I push chopped calves’ liver around my plate I keep looking at her. I want to see that tongue.
 
After her death we seldom mentioned her, and my memories of our lunches faded, until the day when I read the report in the paper about that little place in Austria. Rechnitz. About a party. About a massacre. About 180 Jews who had to strip naked before they were shot, so that their bodies would decompose more quickly. And Aunt Margit? She was at the center of it.
 
*
 
I phoned my father and asked him if he knew about the party. He said nothing for a while, and I heard him uncorking a bottle of wine. I saw him in my mind’s eye, sitting on the shabby old sofa that I like so much in his living-room in Budapest.
 
“Margit had a couple of affairs with Nazis, there was talk about that in the family.”
 
“It says in the paper that she threw a party, and the high point, as a kind of treat for dessert, was when 180 Jews were lured into a stable and guns were handed out to the guests, who were all dead drunk. They all joined in, Margit too. She’s described as the hostess from Hell. The English newspapers are calling her the ‘killer countess.’ And there’s a picture of her captioned: ‘Thyssen countess had 200 Jews shot at Nazi party.’”
 
“Nonsense. Yes, a crime was committed, but I think it’s unlikely that Margit was involved. She was a monster, but not capable of doing that.”
 
“How come Margit was a monster?”
 
*
 
Before I read that newspaper story about Rechnitz and Aunt Margit, I hadn’t been especially interested in my family’s history. I had little contact with it. If I had been born in Hungary it would have been different; there were places and monuments there with connections to my ancestors. However, I grew up not in Budapest but in a four-roomed apartment on the outskirts of the city of Zürich, and when I was eight we moved a hundred meters further away to a grey town house shaped like a Rubik’s cube, the puzzle that everyone played with back in the eighties. We had a ping-pong table in the garden, and a large American-style fridge that the previous occupants had left behind. It smelled so good when you opened the freezer compartment and put your head right in, past the frozen peas. I remember, even more vividly, the smell of the fuel station where we sometimes stopped on the way back from visiting friends of my parents. My two brothers and I used to sit squeezed together on the back seat, and I always hoped the tank would need filling. Then I would wind down the car window, close my eyes and breathe in through my nose. The petrol and the cool air, and all of us together in that car on the way home—I never felt safer in my life. And when we arrived I would pretend to be asleep, so that my father would carry me into my room, with his shirt still smelling of wine and cigarettes and summer. It was all part of my childhood.
 
Like whales who make for calm waters when they are about to give birth, my parents had withdrawn from the outside world to settle here. But unlike whales, who then return to the ocean depths, my parents remained stranded on the outskirts of the city.
 
Maybe they were hiding from their past. From their memories of Hungary, of the war, of flight and concealment.
 
Or possibly they simply wanted to begin again in this undefiled place. Rather than thinking back to earlier times, they wanted to make this dead-end spot their home. And it almost worked.
 
Switzerland is a good country for beginning again and shedding the burden of the past; there is nothing in it to remind you of Hitler or Stalin. The two totalitarian systems of the last century, National Socialism and Communism, the concentration camps and the gulag, are only chapters in school history books to the Swiss. There are hardly any memorials to the victims of wars, hardly any families, apart from those of immigrants, whose stories are interwoven with those atrocities. People don’t ask, “Grandpa, what did you do in the war?” No one in Switzerland was deported or gassed. There’s nothing that the Swiss have to “stomach,” there is nothing to “come out,” as the newspapers always say about revelations in other countries. There was no collective failure, there were no crises outside the world of banking. Switzerland has known only years of prosperity and security; the minds of the Swiss were at ease, particularly in my youth at the beginning of the nineties, when everything was even brighter than before, and people living in city suburbs would get on their bikes at weekends and cycle out to the lakes.
 
You might expect the color of such an idyll to rub off on its surroundings. You might expect such carefree attitudes to transfer themselves to a family’s fortunes. It isn’t always like that.
 
Neither my father nor my mother really felt at home in Switzerland, that most comfortably padded of all European countries. They did learn to speak Swiss German, they went skiing, they bought a sandwich toaster when everyone was buying them, and in winter they ate raclette like everyone else, pouring melted cheese over potatoes, maybe adding a little extra paprika. But the fact is that they participated in the life of the country only when they had to. They exchanged civil greetings with their neighbors, but they would rather get to their car unseen by any acquaintances. In secret, Switzerland and the Swiss smiled at that, or so at least it seemed to me earlier. My parents weren’t bothered by the occasional xenophobic remarks of other inhabitants of Zürich—what a funny surname we had, we spoke German pretty well for foreigners, our rusty car didn’t really suit this city—because they knew that they were never going to put down roots there. As they saw Switzerland, it was never more than a toy country, life there wasn’t the genuine article, or at least not real life with its ups and downs, with its joy and grief. Because no one who had not at least lost a few relations in the war, who had not known what it was to see a foreign power, whether German or Russian, turn everything upside down, could truly claim to understand life. Suffering was the common currency. Idyllic happiness counted for nothing. The past was always more important than the future, old was always better than modern.
 
*
 
And so they probably dreamed of another life in their own way, in that little house on the outskirts of Zürich, a city without yesterdays from which my father soon moved.
 
Two years after the Iron Curtain came down, he packed his bags and went to Budapest. My mother also left Switzerland, and did not seem to feel that she was missing anything. I never bore her a grudge for that. All of a sudden they were both gone, but they had left me with a sense that I was living in the wrong country.
 
I stayed where I was, all the same, perhaps out of inertia; studied at university, because that was what everyone did, and became a journalist. Soon I was writing about armed gangs of kids in Liverpool, I slept in the caravan belonging to a high-ranking Ku Klux Klan member in Texas, I spent several days walking around the streets of a Zürich suburb to report on the case of a girl of thirteen who had been gang-raped, and I sat on the Dutch sperm donor’s sofa with a lesbian couple who wanted a child. I saw him give them a small container and a syringe, so that one of them could inject herself with his sperm. “I’m just going out to do a bit of shopping,” he called, already in the doorway. “Do you want anything? Cola? Crisps?” The women shook their heads, taken aback. Cola? It was a baby that they wanted.
 
Hungary might be my parents’ country, but what business of mine was that? I was in my early thirties, newly in love. The Second World War and a war crime involving the murder of 180 Jews couldn’t have been farther away. We had our own problems, I thought, immigration, disorientation, globalization, I wrote about such subjects: too much consumption, too much pornography, too many opportunities.
 
But after coming up against my family history on the morning when I recognized Aunt Margit in the newspaper article, I began to do some research. I wrote to members of our family in Vienna, Budapest and Munich. “Hello,” I began my letters. “We haven’t met, but we’re distant relations. Have you read what’s said to have happened? Do you know anything about it?” I got hold of files on Aunt Margit and her husband Ivan, my grandfather’s brother; I read books about the Thyssens, the history of Hungary; I spent whole days in archives in Berlin and Berne, Budapest and Graz; and I had many conversations with my father. Aunt Margit had set me traveling back into past history: because of her, I faced the story of my origins for the first time in my life.
 
It was the massacre of 180 Jews that brought me closer to my family.
 
 
From A Crime in the Family: A World War II Secret Buried in Silence—and My Search for the Truth by Sacha Batthyány. 2017.
 
Discovering My Family’s Murderous Nazi Past. By Sacha Batthyány. LitHub, November 1, 2017. 






One morning in April 2007 journalist Sacha Batthyany was approached by an elderly colleague at the Swiss daily where they both worked at the time.

  colleague waved a newspaper clipping in front of him. It was an investigative report entitled, “The Hostess from Hell,” published by a German daily.

Glancing at the headline, Batthyany didn’t understand why he was being shown this article, but then he looked at the picture of the hostess and recognized it immediately. It was Margit, his father’s aunt —someone to whom the family demonstrated the utmost respect and also around whom they tended to tread carefully.

 So he started to read the piece. In March 1945, it said, just before the end of World War II, Margit held a large party in the town of Rechnitz on the Austrian-Hungarian border to fete her Nazi friends. She, the daughter and heiress of European baron and tycoon Heinrich Thyssen, and her friends drank and danced the night away.

 At the height of the evening, just for fun, 12 of the guests boarded trucks or walked to a nearby field, where 180 Jewish slave laborers who had been building fortifications were assembled. They had already been forced to dig a large pit, strip, and get down on their knees. The guests took turns shooting them to death before returning to the party. The organizer of this operation was Margit’s lover Hans Joachim Oldenberg. Margit’s husband, Count Ivan Batthyany, Sacha’s grandfather’s brother, was also at the party.

 It was the first time that Batthyany, then 34, had heard about this incident. He was shocked. “Let’s set aside that it was my aunt,” said Batthyany, who visited Israel last week as a guest of the Jerusalem Book Fair. “It’s just an incredible, brutal story of this night. I mean, I know there are hundreds and thousands of other [violent stories] from the war — I don’t want to compare, but if you read what happened that night it is just unbelievable.”

 In the article in Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, the writer, David Litchfield, describes the party as a celebration of death. Killing for dessert. “I was in shock. I was shocked and surprised that I had never heard of this. And I had studied history, I knew more than the average person, but I’d never heard about this massacre or about Rechnitz, or about my family’s connection to any kind of story connected to the Holocaust.

  “I remember that I had to finish a stupid assignment I was working on but all I was thinking was that I couldn’t wait to talk to my father.

 “This area between Budapest and Vienna is where my family comes from, where my family owned land and castles and stuff. I remember asking him, ‘Did you ever hear of Rechnitz?’ And he said, ‘Yes, of course.’ Then I asked him, ‘Did you know about the massacre?’ and he said, ‘Yeah, yeah. I knew about it. I heard about it, of course, I’m not stupid.’ So I asked, ‘Did you know that Margit was at the party that night when it happened?’ And he replied, ‘Yes, everyone knew it.’

 “So I wasn’t talking as logically as I am now, but I said more or less, ‘So you knew A and you knew B, but you never made the connection?’ And he said no. I asked him why not and he said, ‘I don’t know why not.’

 And it was this moment that was the starting point of all the emotional stuff about not drawing the connection. Why not? Who has the power to decide not to ask? He said he never thought about it. He never thought there was a connection between the people in the castle and what happened there. Everyone knew that [Margit] had affairs with Nazis, she was a German who was very much into the Nazi regime and she had affairs, but no one ever wanted to ask the questions.”

 

Personal upheaval

 These questions led to the appearance a decade later of “A Crime in the Family,” the fascinating book that Batthyany wrote about the incident, originally in German, and translated into English by Anthea Bell. Batthyany set out that morning in April 2007 on an in-depth search.

 With the caution of a sapper dismantling a bomb, he peeled away the historical details he needed to expose. The fact that he was asking questions of his aristocratic family, the fact that he was uncovering the layers of this embarrassing history demanded a great deal of courage. It was also a personal upheaval: How was he connected to this history? How had it shaped his life, his personality, and his image?

 Everything is integrated in the book from several points of view. It’s not just the story of that sickening night. Batthyany also explores the connection between his grandmother, Marita, and an Argentinean woman named Agnes Mandel, a Jewish refugee from the village in which the two grew up, one as the daughter of the local nobleman and the other as the daughter of village Jews who were murdered.

 He also tells the story of his grandfather, who was imprisoned for a decade in Siberia and came out a shadow of a man; of how his paternal grandparents fled with his father, then a teenager, from Soviet-occupied Hungary to the home of the wealthy Countess Margit. And he examines the family pathology, the pathology of men who were eternally grateful to Margit and who preferred never to ask any questions.

 The Batthyanys were European aristocrats who lost most of their property under the Soviet occupation but who had obviously been important. Batthyany says that when he visited Hungary, his name jolted the hotel staff, who treated him with great respect and sent champagne and fruit to his room.

 Growing up in Switzerland he was regarded as the slightly strange son of immigrants (“I have a difficult name and people thought I was from India”) and had no clue that somewhere there were streets, castles, parks and even a chocolate cake bearing the family’s name. He also had no knowledge of the dozens of Batthyany descendants who held periodic family gatherings in Austria or Hungary.

 But what Batthyany saw in that German newspaper report changed everything. He responded like a journalist, getting his editor to agree to give him time off to investigate. He began reading and searching in archives and also began to question distant relatives whom he had never met. When some of the cousins told him about a family gathering that was to take place, he announced that he was coming and that he planned to discuss the story.

 In his book he describes the meeting: A few dozen Batthyanys, eating sandwiches and drinking coffee from elegant cups, none of them too thrilled to discuss the matter. “After a while it became really nasty,” he says. “One of the old uncles said, ‘What if it’s all not true’ and ‘Who owns the media’ and about vested interests and all this anti-Semitic stuff. Elfriede Jelinek, an Austrian playwright, wrote a play about the story, and they were talking about her and it became nasty.”

 Like a Mafia movie

 He recalls that the deeper he dug, the more intense the reactions became, to the point that relatives warned him to stop. “They called me like in a Mafia movie – no joke, anonymous calls saying ‘your name doesn’t matter, I’m just telling you to stop.’” At that family gathering an uncle of his with whom he’d actually been quite close said, ‘Don’t play with the name of our family. You have no idea what could happen.’”

 But Batthyany continued his search, travelling to Rechnitz three times, the first time as a tourist. “Then I talked to the mayor; the mayor was nice. I even spoke to a woman who was at the party that night, who has since died. She told me that not only was my aunt there, but also her husband, Ivan, who is directly my family. My father and Ivan were friendly.

 “It took months. I was working at a magazine then and my boss at the time allowed me to focus on this, but after some weeks I realized that this was going to be different than any other investigative piece I’d done.”

 Batthyany’s initial research resulted in a magazine feature, but the topic gave him no rest. Though it was only one night in the history of a family that ostensibly felt distant enough from the event to be able to suppress it, Batthyany was tormented. He continued to work, married and had a family. Today he and his wife and three children live in Washington, where he is a correspondent for the Germany daily Süddeutsche Zeitung and other publications. But what he thought would end with a magazine article continued to haunt him.

 When the Soviets occupied Hungary, tens of thousands of people, including his father and grandfather, fled. But unlike others, who ended up in a Red Cross refugee camp, their journey ended when the rich aunt sent a private chauffeur to pick them up and bring them to a castle near the Italian-Swiss border. Their first meal was an elegant dinner with glasses of sherry.

 Aunt Margit employed Batthyany’s grandfather in one of her factories, completely financed his father’s education and, as he later understood, was the dominant matriarchal figure in the family.

 “I couldn’t let it go,” he says. “I knew what I had to know, but I wasn’t done. I understood that this was my family and the questions didn’t stop. The title of the book in German is exactly the question that intrigued me then: ‘What Does it Have to do With Me?’ I realized this was the question I was interested in, but I had no idea how to approach it and answer.”

 The answer he found was complex. Batthyany started to see a psychoanalyst, and the insights he derived from the conversations with him appear in the book. There are also sections of a diary his grandmother wrote and diligently edited in the last years of her life. The grandmother talks about the Mandels, the parents of Agnes who ended up in Argentina. Batthyany found Agnes and her daughters and formed a close relationship with them based on a shared fate and shared insights.

 He also traveled with his family to Siberia to trace his grandfather’s life in the gulag and to understand what happened to him during that decade no one ever spoke about.

 The picture that emerges from the book is well-rounded, moving from the personal to the historic, as it emerges that the victim and the criminal are part of the same family. Batthyany’s obsession with the past, with what happened and who was involved, seems at times like a mirror image of what so preoccupies Israelis, a desire to dig deeply and to decipher the present through people who are long lost.

 Batthyany writes on the last page of the book about the similarity between him and the children and grandchildren of Agnes, again like a mirror image. He says that Agnes and the daughters and even the children of the daughters “always went to Hungary to this little tiny village in the middle of nowhere.”

 He recalls: “There’s really nothing there. And they always went there to – I don’t know, to look for something or just to be there, and it was always surprising to me that even the generation afterwards, is still kind of haunted and interested in their roots.”

 He says that while he studied history and psychology in university, even as a journalist he never, or hardly ever did stories on Hungary or World War II. “Before [2007] I wasn’t that interested in my family’s history. I knew just that the name is a very important name in Hungary.

 “It was out of the blue,” he says that he became interested, “and I really think it probably has to do with my character,” he reflects.

 “But I think [the lack of interest in history] also has to do with Switzerland. I really do think that Switzerland, although it’s in the midst of everything, is some kind of historic vacuum. There’s nothing that makes it think about what happened. There are no monuments, for example. When you’re in Hungary, even the tiniest village has three, four, five monuments in the center of the village. For example, one is for the victims of the Holocaust, the other is for the victims of Stalin’s gulags, and they are still fighting about which one is higher. That’s Hungary.

 “So the only thing connected to all of these things and all these dark chapters of our history is in school, when you have your teacher – but it’s all in theory, not something you share on an emotional level.”

 He says most Swiss children do not ask their parents and grandparents what they did during the war. “You don’t ask because there wasn’t much,” he says. Basically, he observes, life in Switzerland doesn’t demand any confrontation with your past, or any past at all.

 He recalls that his first readers were friends or journalists from Switzerland. While they liked his writing, they would also write things like ‘I don’t really understand this thing with the past,’ he says. In Switzerland, this connection with the past is considered odd, he says.

 "I think I’m a bit jealous."

 Batthyany laughs and says: “I was scared because I thought I shouldn’t have done it.

 “But then the book was received entirely differently in Hungary, Germany and Austria [than in Switzerland]. You always carry the past with you, it’s what you are. There are those who don’t want to be aware, but if you feel the burden of the past you will see the connection to the present, to who you are.”

 This article was originally published in July 2017.

 My Aunt Had a Dinner Party, and Then She Took Her Guests to Kill 180 Jews. By  Gili Izikovich. Haaretz April 21, 2020.





Historians dispute the claim by a British journalist that Nazi fanatics attending a party near the Austro-Hungarian border in March 1945 killed 200 Hungarian Jews as an "additional entertainment" laid on by the hosts. The massacre did happen, though, and the circumstances surrounding it remain unclear.

 

A row has broken out among historians about one of the most spectacular Nazi crimes committed in Austria. On the night of March 24 to March 25, 1945, some 200 Hungarian Jews were murdered in the Austrian town of Rechnitz near the Austro-Hungarian border. The bodies of the victims still haven't been found.

 
The Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung newspaper last week published an essay by British journalist David Litchfield in which he claims that several guests at a party held by Countess Margit von Batthyany, born Thyssen-Bornemisza, in Schloss Rechnitz castle were offered the chance to murder the Jews as an "additional entertainment" laid on by local Nazi party chief Franz Podezin. The guests accepted the offer, Litchfield wrote.
 
But several historians are now disputing Litchfield's version of events. Berlin-based anti-Semitism researcher Wolfgang Benz says Litchfield is spreading "murmurings and hearsay."
 
Winfried Garscha of the respected Documentation Centre of Austrian Resistance: "It was indisputably a mass murder but it didn't arise from a party whim. People incapable of marching were murdered everywhere at the time."
 
Garscha said that according to documents from an official investigation into the case after the war, the victims were among thousands of Hungarian Jews who were forced to work on the "Southeast Wall" fortifications along the Austro-Hungarian border from autumn 1944 onwards.
 
On March 24 a train brought 600 of these forced laborers from the town of Köszeg in neighboring Hungary to the town of Burg in the Burgenland region of Austria. Some 30 percent of them were sick and weak and were transported to Rechnitz where they arrived in the early evening.
 
Meanwhile the countess was making the final arrangements for her "followers' festival" which started at 9 p.m. The advancing Soviet Red Army was close to Rechnitz. It wasn't unusual for Nazi officials to hold raucous parties before the impending defeat.
 
The killing of the Hungarian Jews in Rechnitz had already been decided before the party began, according to the investigation by public prosecutors after 1945 which cited testimony from one of the accused men.
 
In addition, the driver who was to take the victims to their execution had been ordered for 9 p.m. At 10 p.m. other forced laborers were taken to dig mass graves. Across the German Reich, Jewish prisoners were being driven westwards by their captors who were fleeing Soviet forces. Those incapable of carrying on were killed. The killings at Rechnitz fit in with that pattern.
 
When the preparations for the executions had been made, at around 11 p.m., local Nazi party chief Podezin gathered a group of loyal Nazis who were at the party and ordered them to drive with him to a barn and kill the Jewish prisoners, according to the investigators. His orders were carried out.
 
Litchfield's version can only be explained by speculation that those accused of the massacre were lying when they said Podezin had ordered them to commit the atrocity -- by way of covering up the alleged connection to the party. Podezin disappeared in 1945 -- presumably with the help of the countess. The bodies of the victims were apparently buried by 18 other Jewish prisoners who were themselves murdered the following evening.
 
The case has been a political issue in Austria for decades because many Rechnitz residents boycotted the investigation. One withness was even murdered in 1946, and other witnesses died in mysterious accidents. In the meantime a commemorative society called Refugius has been established in Rechnitz. Its head, Paul Gulda, suspects that Litchfield wanted to attract attention with his sensational version of events.
 
Mass Murder as Party Entertainment? Der Spiegel International, October 22, 2007.