Night and Fog Director: Alain Resnais Historical Consultants: Olga Wormser, Henri Michel Music: Hanns Eisler Text: Jean Cayrol Camera: Ghislain Cloquet, Sacha Vierny The first important documentary about the Holocaust, Alain Resnais’ Night and Fog (1955), is now half a century old. In 1954 the French publisher Hachette produced a book of eyewitness accounts of the Nazis' war against the Jews of Europe, selected by historians Olga Wormser and Henri Michel. The producer Anatole Dauman visited an exhibition on the same theme at the invitation of Wormser and decided that a film should be made about this subject. He approached Alain Resnais (b. 1922), who had already made several distinguished documentaries about artists, but had not yet begun his career as a maker of feature-length films. (He would go on to make such famous films as Hiroshima, Mon Amour and Last Year at Marienbad—films which, like Night and Fog, are fascinated by the continuities and disjunctions between the past and the present, and by the themes of memory and forgetfulness.) Reluctant at first to accept this assignment, Resnais insisted on having the novelist Jean Cayrol as the writer of the film’s voiceover narration. Cayrol, who had been imprisoned by the Nazis at Mauthausen, had published a volume of poems (Poems of Night and Fog) about his experience immediately after the war. In thinking about Night and Fog, please consider the following issues: In what specific ways does this film differ from American documentaries about the Holocaust? What is the relationship between sound and image in Night and Fog? In particular, what is your reaction to the hypnotic cadences of the narrator’s voice? How does the contrast between color and black-and-white photography function in the film? What are some of the striking features of composer Hanns Eisler’s musical score? Is this score different from the kind of music we associate with Hollywood films? In what respects is the editing of the film crucial to its impact? One of the principles of the classic French art of the great playwrights Corneille and Racine is a rigorous austerity: the subject may be emotionally devastating, but the language remains formal and the perspective of the artist impersonal. How does that principle operate here, and is it effective? As the film unfolds, the images become increasingly shocking and disturbing. Did the director go too far, or was it necessary, in 1955, to shock the conscience of the audience? It is perhaps understandable that the French censors forced Resnais to delete a French policeman’s uniform from a few frames of the film: in 1955 it was not yet possible in France for the cinema to address such painful subjects as French collaboration with the Nazis and participation in the Holocaust. But why does the director refrain from making specific references to Jews (aside from a few proper names)? Why, in other words, does the first major documentary about the Holocaust avoid mentioning the obvious fact that the Jews were Hitler’s principal victims? Phillip Lopate, an essayist, novelist, and film critic, has written a fine essay about Night and Fog to accompany the Criterion DVD restoration of the film. Here are some excerpts from that excellent essay: “The rap against most Holocaust films is that they exploit the audience’s feelings of outrage and sorrow for commercial ends; and, by pretending to put us vicariously through such a staggeringly incomprehensible experience, they trivialize, reducing it to sentimental melodrama. Alain Resnais has done nothing of the kind. Making this film in 1955, only ten years after the liberation of the concentration camps, with the wounds so fresh, he did not presume, first of all, to speak for the victims and survivors of the camps: he chose as his screenwriter Jean Cayrol, a man who had actually been imprisoned in one. Second, neither he nor Cayrol presumed to offer a comprehensive guide to the concentration camp universe. Quite the contrary: the voiceover is filled with skepticism and doubt and a sympathetic awareness of the viewer’s resistance, conscious or unconscious, to grasping the unthinkable…. “Night and Fog is, in effect, an anti-documentary: we cannot ‘document’ this particular reality, it is too heinous, we would be defeated in advance. What can we do, then? Resnais and Cayrol’s answer is: we can reflect, ask questions, examine the record, and interrogate our responses. In short, offer up an essay…. “This effort at analysis and reflection is one of the ways the filmmakers work to evade pious sentimentality: indeed, the voiceover narration is delivered in a harsh, dry, astringent tone, filled with ironic shadings. The magnificent score by Hanns Eisler is also employed ironically: the lovely, lyrical flute passages collide with harrowing images; the Schoenbergian pizzicato strings signal the revving up of the Nazi war machine…. “This film also anticipates, and helps bring about, a whole fascinating, cutting-edge genre, the essay-film, championed especially by Chris Marker (who collaborated with Resnais), practiced as well by such diverse figures as Michael Moore, Jean-Luc Godard [and others]. These filmmakers have rejected the objective neutrality presumptions of traditional documentaries, and have striven to turn film into a medium expressive of idiosyncratic, personal thought.” The issues Lopate highlights in this discussion will be important for us throughout our course: how can makers of films address this dreadful subject without trivializing or sentimentalizing it? How can cinema, with its preference for clear and coherent narratives, address suffering on a scale and of a kind that defies our comprehension? If Lopate is right, the essay-film is one possible solution. But as we will see, it is not the only one.