The Haunting Relevance of Vanderbilt’s Nuremberg: A Psychological Descent into the Heart of Evil
The Nuremberg trials have long served as a cinematic touchstone for exploring the complexities of justice, accountability, and the nature of evil. From the landmark Judgment at Nuremberg (1961) to the complete procedural detail of the 2000 miniseries, these adaptations have consistently sought to understand the horrors of the Holocaust through the lens of legal process and historical reckoning. Though, the 2025 reimagining of Nuremberg, directed by Vanderbilt, distinguishes itself not through a re-examination of the facts, but through a daring and unsettling shift in viewpoint – one that prioritizes the psychological impact of engaging with evil, and in doing so, delivers a chillingly relevant warning for our time.
Previous iterations, while powerful, maintained a crucial distance.Kramer’s Judgment at Nuremberg positioned the audience as impartial jurors, meticulously weighing evidence. The 2000 miniseries, similarly, offered a largely observational experience, allowing viewers to witness the prosecution’s efforts and the perpetrators’ manipulations from a safe remove.Vanderbilt’s film dismantles this protective barrier. By centering the intimate, extended conversations between American psychiatrist Leon Kelley and Nazi ideologue hermann Göring, the film deliberately implicates the audience in kelley’s fraught attempt to understand the man behind the monster. We are no longer observers; we are, unsettlingly, placed in Kelley’s position, experiencing the insidious allure of Göring’s intelligence and charm. This is a courageous choice, foregoing the cathartic release of a courtroom climax in favor of a far more disturbing and lingering unease.
This focus on psychological engagement sets Vanderbilt’s Nuremberg apart from other explorations of the trials, including the thoght-provoking The Eichmann Show (2015). While The Eichmann Show offered a meta-cinematic critique of the ethics of representing atrocity – questioning the very act of turning genocide testimony into televised spectacle - Vanderbilt’s film is less concerned with how we represent evil and more focused on why we are drawn to understand it. It bypasses the debate over the “banality of evil” and instead delves into the hazardous allure of attempting to comprehend the incomprehensible.
Crucially, Vanderbilt’s Nuremberg resonates with a contemporary urgency that its predecessors, products of their respective eras, could not fully achieve. Judgment at Nuremberg arrived sixteen years after the events, allowing for a degree of historical distance. The 2000 miniseries, while impactful, felt rooted in a period where the Nazi trials were largely relegated to the realm of history. The 2025 film, however, cannot escape – and actively embraces – the unsettling parallels between the post-war landscape of 1945 and the increasingly polarized political climate of today. The film’s pointed allusions to state detention without due process, the dehumanization of vulnerable populations, and the normalization of authoritarian rhetoric are not subtle; they are deliberate warnings, presented as a contemporary echo of historical horrors. Nuremberg functions, therefore, not as a historical recreation, but as a potent allegory for present dangers.
This thematic weight is further amplified by the film’s distinct aesthetic choices. In contrast to the static, courtroom-centric cinematography of Kramer’s film and the conventional television style of the miniseries, Vanderbilt employs a progressively claustrophobic visual language. The initial Kelley-Göring sessions unfold within relatively open frames, but as their relationship intensifies, the camera tightens, creating a palpable sense of oppressive intimacy. The final sessions are notably striking, utilizing near-identical shot-reverse-shots that visually underscore the dangerous symmetry between the two men - a chilling visual argument that neither previous adaptation dared to explore.
Ultimately, Vanderbilt’s Nuremberg doesn’t seek to supplant its predecessors, but to complement them. Judgment at Nuremberg remains the definitive exploration of legal and philosophical accountability. The 2000 miniseries provides the most comprehensive procedural account of the trial itself. However, Vanderbilt’s film offers something uniquely unsettling: an examination of evil not as a distant historical artifact, but as a seductive, present, and perpetually available force. It is indeed the most psychologically disturbing of the three adaptations precisely as it rejects the comfort of historical distance. Kelley’s eventual suicide is not presented as a tragic anomaly, but as a logical consequence – a stark illustration of what happens when one attempts to understand monsters without adequately protecting one’s own humanity.
In the canon of Nuremberg films, Vanderbilt’s contribution stands as a provocation, not a summation. It doesn’t offer closure or easy answers, but rather forces us to confront the uncomfortable truth that understanding atrocity does not immunize us against replicating it.in a 2025 world where the lessons of Nuremberg feel tragically unlearned and increasingly relevant, Vanderbilt’s *N
