Austerlitz

Among the core conclusions one might draw from the documentaries of observational cinema is just how many things can be said by an image in and of itself, by its appearance alone; how reality is constantly articulating something, unceasingly sending out signals – we just need to know how to point the camera at it in order for its utterances to acquire the syntax that befits them, the right tone and tempo. The sensational Austerlitz by the great Sergei Loznitsa shows how absolute evil is being transformed into a kind of theme park for the hordes of tourists visiting Auschwitz, like they are going on some school trip or to an amusement park. And through the use of static shots that simply observe visitors as they wander – carefree and cheerful – round the sights of hell, taking “selfies” in front of the remnants of the Nazi nightmare, the film attests the prophetic insights of Guy Debord regarding “the society of the spectacle”, where direct experience disappears into the image that depicts it, draining the real of its meaning. Never before has a stroll into the abyss felt more “casual” – and all the more bleak and sinister for it.