Written by Matt Whitaker and Ethan Vincent

Directed by Matt Whitaker

Review by Marina Funcasta

Truth & Treason is on Prime Video from May 18th

“The Ancient Greeks believed the past was in front of us and the future behind. Man could look history in the face and learn from it, while the future was unknowable, hidden, the wind whistling at our back.”

This is how Michael Gove begins his article on Weimar Britain for The Spectator, which I read in the early months of this year. The opening has stayed with me, as in a world where problems breed more problems and answers seem few and far between, the future really does seem as murky as our past. The wind whistling at our back is growing into a storm, and the creative industry is shielding itself with historical narrative – from biopics, to memoirs, to war. Perhaps, as Gove pointed out, we are doing this to understand where we are coming from; although after watching Truth and Treason, I can’t help but see it as a haphazard prediction of where we are heading.

Matt Whitaker and Russ Kendall, writer/director and producer have certainly devoted a significant chunk of their personal histories to this story. During an interview, Kendall emphasised how much we needed this film right now, while justifying him and Matt’s now twenty-year dedication to unearthing Helmut’s life for screen. Made into a documentary in 2002, Whitaker knew to let the story breathe in cinematic form if he wanted to make an impact, especially with the younger generation.

And impactful it was. The film takes flight immediately, lifting us along with it. Its pacing is expedient, pointed, moving between scenes from the Church, to the home and Office with ease. The acting is predominantly silent, relationships are understood through glimpses of activity, shared existence, as opposed to dialogue. This is a strength, as the boys’ friendship is allowed to take shape through dance routines, cycling races and rooftop meditations. Nye Occomore in particular masters these moments: shifting from boisterous to stoic in one take, his presence is felt in the film long after his exit, which occurs all too soon.

Indeed, Saloman Schwarz death is shot in a very subdued manner. The immediate effect seems oddly inconsequential, although the fire it brings out of Helmuth Hubener is quick to burn. Ewan Horrocks performs Helmuth’s decision to begin writing anti-Nazi propaganda in an underhand way. Though this edifies his heroism, it is in moments like this that I feel the film teeters on recklessness. Very grave decisions, such as pinning his posters, involving his friends, or later on, admitting to the police his friends’ names, are skirted past with a speed that sometimes feels rushed. This refuses us any intimacy with the protagonist, himself played with a cerebral quality by the brilliant Horrocks. From beginning to end, we are asked to sympathise with Helmuth, but in a terribly distant way. The effect is murky, and tragic, but importantly political.

This may well have been Whitaker and Ethan Vincent’s intent. The bravery demonstrated by Helmuth and his friends is simultaneously a true story and modern myth. The final court scene reverberates with political pertinence and vitality. As we see more and more leaders display contempt to the system that we are taught to obey, be they institutions of law and order, education, of faith etc, Helmuth’s cry for justice and truth is as refreshing as it is rare.

Also, the effect of distancing his character allows the audience of the film to really listen to his words. I felt this film to really be about language, and the power it yields over our thoughts and beliefs. Every line written in Helmuth’s red cards in the film is taken directly from what he actually wrote, which makes his mind even more intriguing. A teenager who is devout in his faith, obsessed with classical music, staunch in his political beliefs and can quote Thomas Mann and Shakespeare in just twenty four words – there is no question as to the maturity of Helmuth’s soul being greater than his body’s.

The film tries to humanise his youth through the construction of his love interest, Elli Kluge, played weightily by newcomer Sylvie Varcoe. This is a promising debut for Varcoe, whose biting performance as an office clerk is striking. Although her presence in the film is perhaps inherently sensational, the only point it felt confused was her inclusion in the interrogation scene. By bringing her fictitious presence into this part of the Helmuth’s story, it changes the why he ultimately conceded his friend’s, redefining it as an act of protection. Given her fictionality, this shortcut in the narrative changes the meaning, which feels like an odd decision in a film which worships the altar of truth.

The interrogation scenes are however very leaden, and the atmosphere very knotty. This is largely thanks to the complex relationship we see develop between Horrocks and the interrogator, Erwin Mussener, played with mighty gravitas by Rupert Evans. Evans’ character is written with kindness, despite his ultimate monstrosity. Clearly an intelligent and moralistic figure, the ethical questions he faces internally contrast with his external assurance. Evans stuns in the sentimentality he musters for such an unforgiving character, and performs doubt with an earnestness I have seen other actors try and rival in recent films – It was just an accident’s Ebrahim Azizi comes to mind.

Truth & Treason takes the responsibility of invoking its protagonist’s story with care and thought, spotlighting the human dimension of the story while maintaining its political directness firmly rooted at its heart. It is a profoundly moving film, and I would encourage everyone to watch it.

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