‘The Disappearance of Josef Mengele' Review: A Post-War Study of the Nazis' ‘Angel of Death' Lacks Dimension

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21-05-2025

With 'The Disappearance of Josef Mengele,' Russian dissident Kirill Serebrennikov trains his lens once more on the fault-lines of democracy, and the ease with which fascism takes hold and cross-pollinates. However, the black-and-white-shot post-World War II biopic contains more ideas than it can handle, between a central character study — led by an impeccable August Diehl — mixed with a globe-trotting tale of evasion, along with numerous hints towards turning political wheels. The combination proves too unwieldy, at least in Serebrennikov's scattered execution.
The movie's prologue, set in the 21st century, establishes what would become of the Nazi war criminal, as his remains are examined by medical students in Brazil. Among the group is a pair of Black twins, whose professor mentions Mengele's fixation with identical siblings, which both portends fleeting dramatic moments in the rest of the film, and also steeps this post-mortem study in dramatic irony. Mengele would've detested what became of his bones; there's a sense of catharsis to the mad doctor being reduced to parts on a slab. Unfortunately, what follows is seldom retro-fitted with enough dramatic power to earn this preemptive closure.
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Adapted from Olivier Guez's more straightforward non-fiction novel, Serebrennikov's screenplay jumps around in time, albeit with little purpose. It introduces us to Mengele (Diehl), the Third Reich's 'angel of death,' living in secret and looking over his shoulder in 1950s Argentina. The camera follows Mengele — at times literally, from behind — during his attempts to travel back to Europe, inducing a sense of paranoia in the process, while embodying a phantomic righteousness as it gives chase. However, these alluring flourishes quickly fade, as the movie settles into rote rhythms reminiscent of Serebrennikov's most recent effort (the agitator biopic 'Limonov: The Ballad'), in which the political is but window dressing to the personal, rather than part-and-parcel of it.
For the most part, 'The Disappearance of Josef Mengele' hobbles between Mengele's stints in various South American countries — primarily, a Nazi-friendly Argentina under Juan Perón, and eventually a military-controlled Brazil — from the '50s through to the '70s. The film, in this way, offers hints at the perpetuation of fascist thought during the 20th century, coming achingly close to making a point as norms seem to shatter far in background (usually, over radio broadcasts). Instead, its constant back-and-forth functions as a highlight reel, denoting Mengele's marriage to his widowed sister-in-law, his relationship with his domineering father and, eventually, the efforts by his adult son Rolf (Max Bretschneider) to connect with his estranged father. Rather than these factual bullet-points serving as a backdrop to explore Mengele, they become foregrounded to the point of subsuming any sense of overarching theme, let alone a cinematic fluidity between eras.
The film is at its most potent during its brief foray into Mengele's Nazi past — about halfway through the runtime — taking the form of rare color scenes presented as grainy, celluloid footage shot by the Nazis themselves. The gleeful cruelty contained in these images is downright gut-churning, and makes for a necessary foundation to later moments of the elderly, fugitive Mengele being forced to confront his torturous wrongdoings. Diehl, despite being caked in old-man make up, digs deep into Mengele's chilling contradictions and compartmentalizations, which arrive with a nearly comedic form of self-awareness (Mengele detests the idea that he may one day be fictionalized on film), making the character seem even more pathetic.
However, these moments can't help but feel too little, too late. Take, for example, a kind of scene that has become practically expected of modern films on human atrocities — from the 2013 Indonesian genocide documentary 'The Act of Killing,' to the recent World War II dramas 'Oppenheimer' and 'The Zone of Interest' — in which a figure confronted with the reality of their mass murders keels over and vomits, as if in pithy attempt to expel their guilt. Such an instance arrives here as well, albeit without the requisite buildup that might make Mengele's inescapable nausea meaningful. It's a beat that feels mostly self-contained, rather than emanating from a combination of all the preceding drama.
Similarly, Mengele's twisted fixations are but details casually shaded into Serebrennikov's sketch, appearing in isolated moments rather than existing as defining characteristics, baked into the character's gaze. His persecution, presented in spurts across the various timelines, seldom leads to a coherent story of a man being chased by demons of his own making (despite frequent allusions to Mossad catching up to other Nazi leaders). Diehl goes to great lengths to embody a figure noxious to the eyes and ears — in the most subtle, skin-crawling ways — with the crouched body language of a man resultant to be seen. However, the film as a whole rarely pierces this veil.
'The Disappearance of Josef Mengele' never builds a complete and detestable human being. Its concerns, ironically, feel far too logistical for a figure whose cold calculations disguised a more vivid and monstrously human collage. The result is a film that gestures towards some novel complexity, but elicits only a shrug.
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