Philippe Mora Discusses His Personal Documentary, Three Days In Auschwitz

Mora At The Gate To Auschwitz

When Philippe Mora visited Auschwitz-Birkenau, in 2010, to commemorate family members murdered by the Nazis, he began a quest to try and understand the inhumanity that produced the Holocaust 

If the Nazis had had their way, the Franco-Australian filmmaker/painter, Philippe Mora, like so many Jews, would never have been born. His mother, Mirka, her two siblings and his grandmother were arrested in Paris during the Roundup, in 1942, and sent to a transit camp in Pithviers, from where they'd expected to be transported to Auschwitz. However, 24 hours before being moved, they were freed.

Discussing his new documentary, Three Days in Auschwitz, from his home in LA, Mora tells me: “Only something like a hundred Jewish people were released, and four were my family. So the probability of me even being here on the phone, talking to you - .” He breaks off, as if still trying to process the grim odds. “It's unbelievable.”

Why they were saved became clear last year, when police records held in Paris revealed that his grandfather had used a letter forged by the Resistance to claim that the four were needed as labour in a Parisian garment factory producing uniforms for the Germans.

“It was obviously b.s.,” says Mora. “My aunt was eight and the other was 10, so they could hardly be making uniforms. But that's how they got out.”

As Mirka survived in hiding, the man who would become Mora's father, Georges (a German Jew born as Gunther Morawski), fought alongside Philippe's future godfather, the legendary mime artist Marcel Marceau, in the French Resistance. “It turns out that a lot of my family were what you'd call 'fighting Jews',” says the director, proudly. “There's an antisemitic myth that the Jews went quietly into the gas chambers. It's nonsense. There was a lot of fighting and a lot of protest.”

Eight of his father's family did die in Auschwitz, though. And when Mora attended a 2010 retrospective of his films in Wroclaw, Poland, where his paternal grandparents had been married, he was able to find out about them in archived documents that the Nazis hadn't had time to destroy before the Russians swept through.

“I couldn't believe the names of all my family members. I knew they'd died, but here it was in black and white.

“One name that struck me was Charlotte Morawski, who did a thesis on Nietzsche, in 1915, in Breslau (the German name for Wroclaw) University. There was a notation in her file that said: 'Charlotte Morawski has asked for the photo of her father to be given to the local synagogue when she is evacuated.' Evacuated was the term the Nazis used for Auschwitz/murder.”

To his horror, he discovered that the Nazis had gone through the house of a “comparatively very wealthy” great uncle, and valued every item “down to each cup, each plate, each chair . . . The value of taps. The value of toilets. It wasn't just murder. It was a huge looting, a robbery, and then kill the victims and no one will know.” 

Mora Outside A Gas Chamber

As Auschwitz wasn't far from Wroclaw, Mora decided to go to the camp to pay tribute to his dead relatives. Three Days in Auschwitz emerged from this and subsequent visits, over a period of five years, as the filmmaker - whose documentary Swastika shocked the Cannes film festival in 1973 by attempting to make sense of Hitler through intimate home movies shot by Eva Braun - struggled to find an “explanation for humans doing this to other humans”.

He began with a plan but as each each door he opened led to numerous new doors, the project became increasingly personal, until he reluctantly found himself in front of the camera, effectively scratching his head and wondering how you even make a film on the subject. “Every time I tried to analyse it, I came up to that wall of, 'What happened? How do you do this?',” he says. “So I just thought: 'I'm going to drive myself crazy here. Just do it and see where the cards fall.' In one way, it's more like a painting than a movie.”

In the film, he actually tries to convey some of the violence of the Final Solution through paintings he did inspired by Munch's The Scream (a foreshadowing of the Holocaust, he suggests) and Francis Bacon's post-Shoah work, though he questions the power of art to influence and change people.

Anti-Hitler artists in Germany “were on to it, the horror, before it all happened,” he says. “But the sad thing is, it didn't stop the war.” A few years ago, in Madrid, the sight of a group of schoolchildren studying Picasso's Guernica moved him. “[But] what is the effect of art?” he asks. “What is the effect of a movie? It's certainly overpowered by bombs, to put it crudely.”

In a quote at the beginning of the documentary, Goebbels tells Germans to “hang on” and one day they will be the subject of a colour film that will be elevating, rather than one that makes people “hoot and whistle”.Three Days in Auschwitz is Mora's slightly bewildered response to the twisted ideology that resulted in the murder of 6 million (possibly more) Jews, and the delusion of the Nazi regime.

The camp itself is now “the largest cemetery in the world”, says Mora, who, when he visited Auschwitz for a fourth time last year, was told that the number of visitors is “increasing exponentially”.

This is heartening at a time when antisemitism is surging and social media is being used to spread Holocaust denial. Mora recalls a quote he read from a professor: “Denial is a second genocide.” “That struck me, because if you deny this happened, you are creating a false reality. A counterfeit reality. Which is very, very dangerous.”

He views attempts by people on the internet to whitewash the Holocaust as particularly disturbing. “At first I ignored it, but I think it's dangerous to ignore it. I think you just have to calmly fight with facts. The true fanatics, you can't convince them. The nuts are the nuts. Its the people who think, 'Oh maybe that's true,' they're the ones that have to be nipped in the bud.”

Maybe Three Days in Auschwitz – intimate, unconventional, highly personal, and furnished with a haunting Eric Clapton score that could help it to reach a different kind of audience - can play a small role in this.

Art alone may not be able to hold back the darkness, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth doing – especially when 24 hours are all that have separated your existence from oblivion.

Three Days in Auschwitz is available on DVD and digital

A version of this story appeared in The Jewish Chronicle, May 26th, 2o16

http://www.thejc.com/arts/film/158650/picturing-how-i-was-almost-not-born

William Peter Blatty: Exorcising The Exorcist

William Peter Blatty on The Exorcist &

The Ninth Configuration

Like John Milton, the author of Paradise Lost, William Peter Blatty is a writer with deep religious convictions who has been wrongly accused of having sympathy for the Devil. To this day, he laments down the telephone from his LA home, there are people who believe that evil triumphs at the end of The Exorcist.

"So now, because of a bogus reputation, they will not read The Exorcist," he says. "They will not look at the film. They're terrified."

It is a sad irony that a man with Blatty's background should find himself being painted as the Devil's champion. He was raised as a Catholic by a mother who, he says with admiration "was extremely devoted to the Blessed Mother"; and his great-uncle was an archbishop in the Middle East. Religion is in the genes of William (or Bill, as he prefers to be called), so there came a time when he himself considered entering the priesthood.

"It was a strong possibility," he says with a sigh. "But I was too fond of the ladies; a vow of chastity was not going to work for me."

Instead, Blatty became a writer with a gift for comedy. Using laughter to exorcise the painful circumstances of his poverty-stricken childhood, he transformed some of his own "horribly painful experiences" into his first comic novel, Which Way to Mecca, Jack? In 1963 he broke into screenwriting, with the Danny Kaye vehicle The Man From the Diners Club. A script for Inspector Clouseau's second outing, A Shot in the Dark, followed. After several more films, Hollywood turned its back on comedy and Bill found himself out in the cold.

"I was put up for straight dramatic writing jobs time and again, but I couldn't get a job. So I had nothing better to do than go down and collect my unemployment cheque once a week and start working on this novel [The Exorcist]. I had been thinking about the idea for 15 years, but I had never dared to attempt something serious..."

Of course, the novel and its big-screen spin-off became a phenomenon, the latter earning Blatty an Oscar for his screenplay. He says with sadness, though, that the only impact of the award was that: "I stopped worrying about how I was going to pay my bills. I never felt a rapture or even a glow of success. The process took too long. From the time I thought of the idea in college, then 20-25 years later taking months, if not years, to get someone interested in it, and then the writing of it... By the time it all came to pass, my primary emotion was just one of immense relief."

The Exorcist reflects Blatty's own doubts about religion. "When I was writing those scripts years I was having my own crisis of belief," he says slowly. "As the characters worked through their problems of faith, I was working through mine."

But the film went further than he'd anticipated. Although Blatty had done his best in his script to ensure that people understood the outcome, the excision of two cherished scenes by William Friedkin made it possible to misconstrue the priests' victory as defeat. The scenes gave the film a moral centre, says Blatty; and they gave you "an opportunity to not dislike yourself for liking the movie". But Friedkin decided that the film was running too long, and "the theology was the first candidate to go out the window".

Seventeen years later, Blatty got an opportunity to clear up the misunderstanding when he directed his first feature, The Ninth Configuration. Based on an early comic novel, Twinkle, Twinkle "Killer" Kane, the film ends with an uplifting coda that is an affirmation of Kane/ Blatty's religious faith. If Blatty's intended message - "God is in his Heaven: all's right with the world" - got lost in Friedkin's film, there's no mistaking it here.

"Doing The Ninth Configuration, I welcomed the chance to clarify where I stood," he says. "And to show all those people who had misunderstood The Exorcist that I was not the Antichrist disguised as an author."

The Ninth Configuration also gave Blatty an opportunity to reconcile, for the first and last time in film, the different strands of his career. Prior to that novel, comedy had been his forte and his first love; after it: "Nobody wanted comedy from me any more. It's as if I had landed on the planet with the manuscript of The Exorcist under my arm... That's true even today. If I do mention that I wrote A Shot in the Dark, their eyes glaze over and 10 minutes later they've completely forgotten it."

Nevertheless, Blatty still hopes that he will be asked to direct a comedy, and will not just be offered films like "Pumpkinhead 4. Or was it Pumpkinhead 3? That's the kind of offer I get."

Behind this wry, self-deprecating humour, the warm and engaging Blatty is a little disappointed with the way he is perceived today. During our conversation, he seemed grateful to be given the opportunity to talk about a career that has far more shading than most of us realise. Once it was religious reassurance that he needed. Today, it is the reassurance that he will actually be remembered as more than just the author of The Exorcist which Blatty appears to require most.

A version of this story appeared in The Independent in 1999

Charlie Kaufman Gets Animated

Charlie Kaufman, Duke Johnson, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Tom Noonan talk about the Oscar nominated animated feature, Anomalisa

Charlie Kaufman is “a genius”, enthuses actor Tom Noonan. He has “an imagination unlike anyone,” gushes actress Jennifer Jason Leigh. We're talking at the Venice Film Festival, where Kaufman's second directorial outing, Anomalisa, has just screened, and their comments are irrefutable.

Co-directing with Duke Johnson, Anomalisa takes Kaufman into the world of stop-motion animation, with stunning results. However, the Being John Malkovitch writer hasn't suddenly gone child-friendly. Anomalisa's story of Michael, a depressed inspirational speaker who has a brief encounter with Lisa, a shy telesales agent, touches on grown-up themes, is peppered with salty dialogue, and features full-on puppet sex.

Anomalisa began as a stage play read live by Noonan, Jason Leigh and David Thewlis. When Johnson received the script, he was thrilled. “I could see how it could be stop-motion in the sense that it wasn’t specific to anything," he says. "And I thought it would be really exciting because it wasn't like anything I had seen before in that medium.”

Taking “the pulse” of a couple of studios, Johnson realised they'd have to fund the project independently. Studios are conservative by nature, agrees Kaufman. “As an executive you get fired for making an eccentric decision that doesn't work . . . If you make a superhero movie and it doesn't work, you were right to try.”

He started talking to Johnson about how to translate the play following the launch of a hugely successful Kickstarter campaign to raise seed money. Left alone, they were able to follow their own vision. Using 3D printed facial components, expressive lead characters were created. When naked, Lisa (Jason Leigh) and Michael (Thewlis) look like animated Ron Mueck sculptures. They had to be “fleshy”, says Kaufman. “Not idealised. Just real human.”

In a typically Kaufmanesque touch, Michael is experiencing a psychological condition based on Fregoli Syndrome (the protagonist of his directorial debut, Synechdoche, New York, had Cotard's Syndrome), which causes him to see everyone (except for Lisa) as the same person. He is bored by life, which Kaufman regards as depression.

“It's like a removal from life, which I experience quite often. I feel like there's a numbness that Michael has that I certainly recognise.”

Explaining his approach to writing characters, Kaufman says: “I think everyone has a mental disorder. I think everyone has got a subjective psychology and just trying to get inside that and create somebody struggling, it seems like the only way to present a human being.”

A talking point of the film is likely to be Lisa and Michael's realistic sex scene. Tender and awkward, it has an erotic charge that the makers of Fifty Shades of Grey could only dream of. Kaufman believes its power comes from us seeing “the entire experience, from the flirtation until the end of the experience. That is unusual in a movie, and I think that is what gives it some of its tenderness and it’s vulnerability.”

This takes the movie deep into adult territory, and reminds us that animation wasn't always for children. When I mention the success of Ralph Bakshi's saucy Fritz the Cat, Kaufman says that while it was released in 1972, “that was a hundred years ago, in terms of what's happened to the culture since then.” Could Anomalisa make a difference?

“If it’s successful there’ll be a hundred Anomalisas,” he says drily. “Until they stop making money.”

Ultimately, Kaufman has never followed a formula, he hates labels (like Kaufmanesque), and has never followed fashion. And he is not about to start now.

“I just keep stumbling. I try to do something new, I don’t exactly know how to do it, and I get frustrated. I get depressed. And I have to keep stumbling because somebody’s paid me money. I can’t stop stumbling. I just keep doing it and eventually have something to turn in, and see what happens.”

One of his strengths is that no matter how strange or surreal his films become, the feelings, anxieties, emotions, and fears that characters like Lisa and Michael experience are always recognisably part of our shared human experience.

“It doesn’t feel foreign,” says Jason Leigh. “He somehow taps into something that is so universal, and yet so out there, that it blows your mind.”

A shorter version of this article appeared in The National

Marty Baron Discusses The Story Behind Spotlight

“I didn’t decide to take on the Catholic Church. I decided to pursue a story"

By Stephen Applebaum, January 29, 2016

One of the hottest contenders for the Best Picture Oscar, Spotlight tells the powerful true story of how the eponymous team of investigative reporters at the Boston Globe exposed a decades-long cover-up by the Catholic Church to protect priests guilty of sexually abusing children.

That the investigation took place at all is credited to the Globe's first Jewish editor, Marty Baron (played by Liev Schreiber in the film), who, on his first day at the paper, saw a story that he felt needed to be pursued.

Baron had come from the Miami Herald and was an unusual appointment. “The newspaper had been accustomed to having people who have a strong connection to Boston be in charge of it,” he tells me from his office at the Washington Post, where he is Executive Editor, “and I think the entire community was accustomed to that as well. I had spent almost no time in the city and so I was labelled an outsider; and made to feel like an outsider.”

While being “somewhat the object of wariness” created discomfort, he had the advantage of being able to “see things through fresh eyes”, he suggests. “I didn't have any attachments to the community at all. I had no allegiances, no obligations as a result of friendship, nothing like that. So I think that allowed me to approach things with some level of distance and objectivity.”

Miami had been somewhere “all kinds of crazy things happen” and he didn't know if Boston would be “as wild and woolly”. However, that quickly changed.

The day before he started work, the Globe ran a story by columnist Eileen McNamara about a priest, John Geoghan, who'd been accused of abusing 80 children. In it, a lawyer for the plaintiff claimed that Cardinal Law, the Archbishop of Boston, knew of the abuse, and yet had allowed the priest to be reassigned to different parishes.

“The response from the Church, via its lawyer, was that these were irresponsible, baseless charges,” says Baron. “So you had duelling commentaries about these serious allegations.”

What intrigued him most was that McNamara said the truth may never be known, because the internal Church documents that might reveal it were under seal and subject to a confidentiality order.

At his first editorial meeting the following day, Baron proposed trying to get the seal lifted through legal channels. He then asked the paper's Spotlight team of investigative journalists to explore whether Geoghan represented a bigger problem.

The probe would bring the reporters and the paper up against the Catholic Church, whose buildings dominate the Boston skyline in the working-class areas where most victims came from, physically illustrating its influence over the life of the city. Baron, however, is not a man to be cowed.

As the editor of his high school newspaper in Florida, he refused to back down over a story that upset the administration. Since then, as well as the Catholic Church, he has stood up to the White House over stories about lapses in Secret Service coverage for the president, and resisted pressure to not publish confidential National Security Agency memos leaked by Edward Snowden.

Neither of his parents, who emigrated from Israel to the United States in the mid 50s, was in journalism. But they had a keen interest in news about the public affairs of their adopted home - “As a matter of routine in our household we'd read a local newspaper and watch the television news” - and this rubbed off on him.

At school he was aware of “people of a certain status in life who felt that they were entitled and privileged”, and says: “I think I've always been conscious of elites in society, and very leery of elites, frankly.”

Today, he sees it as a “special obligation of the news media to hold powerful individuals, powerful institutions, accountable. Because my view is if we don't do it, nobody else will.”

As a result of the movie, people have asked him why he went after the Catholic Church. The question irritates him. “I didn't decide to take on the Catholic Church,” he says firmly. “I decided to pursue a story that was in front of us. It was a journalistic impulse . . . It became apparent to me, fairly quickly, that we had not pursued every possible channel for getting at the truth. And that's my job.”

However, he did insist that they wouldn't publish until they had evidence of institutional malpractice. Simply reporting how many priests were involved would have struck people as sensational, he insists. For him the more powerful questions concerned why they had been allowed to get away with the abuse for so long.

The facts uncovered were so damaging and so shocking that they didn't need to be sensationalised or conveyed with emotive language.

Baron and his team were expecting “blowback” when the first part of their (ultimately Pulitzer-winning) series of reports ran on January 6^th, 2002. “We actually stepped up on the switchboard because we were expecting a lot of criticism, and people to call and complain and accuse us of being anti-Catholic.” Instead, as portrayed in the film, “there was an eerie silence”.

“I think there was a strong feeling of betrayal amongst Catholics in Boston,” offers Baron, “and they were able to feel that sense of betrayal especially acutely because we were able to put in front of them the actual internal Church documents that showed how the Church had deceived, had obstructed, and had ignored this problem for such a long period of time.”

The pain that had been inflicted on children over many years was finally laid bare. Survivors now came forward in huge numbers to relate their stories, achieving what Baron sees as another key part of the “journalistic mission”: breaking the silence.

“I do think that we have to be especially attentive to people who are at the margins of our society, who don't have power, and who have not been given a voice,” he says.

“One of the great lessons of this movie is that people who have been left voiceless can have very powerful things to say, and it's important that we listen to what they have to say. And at times act on it.”

The message could hardly be more timely.

Spotlight is on general release

This story first appeared in The Jewish Chronicle, January 29, 2016

Niklas Frank Discusses His Life And My Nazi Legacy

Read the story online here http://www.thejc.com/lifestyle/lifestyle-features/150258/we-still-live-fathers-evil-legacy