Review: Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit, White Masculinity and Fascism
When I first watched Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit, a dark comedy about Nazi Germany, I had my doubts as to whether the movie would work during a time where global fascism and white supremacy are on the rise. The story is told through the perspective of a ten-year-old boy who idolizes Hitler and imagines the ruthless dictator as his imaginary best friend — played by Waititi himself — who he regularly confides in. To make comedy about one of the worst atrocities in human history at a time where similar rhetorics are on the rise felt risky, even at odds with the kind of art we are supposed to be making or consuming at this moment. (Arguably, Waititi has been vindicated for taking this risk as he became the first Indigenous person to ever win an Oscar for adapted screenplay.)
My hesitation dissipated as soon as the movie set the tone with a montage of Hitler’s rallies to a German version of the Beatles’ I Want to Hold Your Hand; it was a jarring combination, but it vividly illustrated the theme of idolization of white men and masculinity. By combining the obsessive Beatles fan behavior with Hitler’s rallies, the idolization of white mediocrity is exposed; glorification (of whiteness and maleness) without interrogation is what Waititi is challenging, especially as he tells the story from the perspective of a boy who believes what the adults in his life are telling him. Mostly, these are lessons in how to be a good German boy, which are lessons in hegemonic white masculinity in Nazi Germany.
Jojo Rabbit (Roman Griffin Davis) is not what you would expect from a Nazi: he is a deeply insecure ten-year-old boy who wants to fit in with other boys his age. From the start, he is a fanatic, but his radicalization has a reasoning; the adults around him are teaching him antisemitic and white supremacist lies he has no reason to doubt because of the naiveté of his age.
Underlying this ideological indoctrination is a more subtle imposition of hegemonic white masculinity; one of the reasons Jojo doesn’t fit in is because he is not cruel enough to kill a rabbit in front of his Hitler youth group. In the Hitler youth camp, the boys are taught to be violent and murderous, while the girls are taught how to stay home and have babies for Germany; through this gendering, a project of white supremacy is established from an early age, and when Jojo strays from this, he feels inadequate.
Jojo’s idolization of war and violence, and how it is at odds with his gentle character is apparent when he finds out his own mother Rosie (Scarlett Johansson) is hiding a Jewish refugee, Elsa (Thomasin McKenzie), in the walls of their house. As Jojo is forced to stay home after an accident with a hand grenade, his friendship with Elsa grows, threatening his core values as her humanity and kindness cause him to interrogate the fatal antisemitism and the unwavering cruelty he was taught in school.
His best friend Hitler has taught him Jewish people are dangerous, but Elsa doesn’t seem to have any superhuman powers, nor is she evil. She is just a girl of 16, hiding in the wall because otherwise she will be murdered. In an age where people are being radicalized into white supremacy with blatant lies (immigrants are stealing jobs! Immigrants are why there’s no appointments in the NHS!), this movie contrasts the lie with the reality of humanity of those who are being racialized and hated. Elsa is a huge force in this sense: by simply being alive and having conversations with Jojo, she is able to tangibly show him that he is wrong.
A particularly persuasive scene happens when Jojo and his mother Rosie are having dinner. His mother is happy because the war might end soon, and Jojo yells at her, accusing her of hating Germany. Finally, Rosie says the dinner table is neutral ground and they should stop discussing politics. The nuances of how this scene might emulate current dynamics around the family dinner table are almost painful; Jojo’s aggressive military, masculinist position where anything less than winning a war, decimating Germany’s enemies, is considered treason, and a mother’s plea for peace during dinner. Rosie’s participation in the resistance and her firm and patient challenges to Jojo’s radicalization are some of the best parts of the movie; Jojo is a child, she insists, and he has no business being so invested in war.
Waititi simultaneously mocks Hitler’s egomania and warns us of its danger — and the implication is that idolizing white masculinity is both easy and fatal. Many reviews argued the tone of the movie is off, but to me, the dissonance in tone is precisely the point. By using Jojo as our guide into this fucked up world, Waititi strikes the balance between hope and horror — but this balance can be somewhat jarring, just as it is in real life. Waititi’s counterpoint to the cruelty, rigidity and violence Jojo is being indoctrinated in is patience, hope and kindness. Throughout the movie, imaginary friend Hitler slowly shows himself to be the reason Jojo and Elsa are unable to have a happy, normal childhood. In the end, it is Rosie and Elsa and their patient conversations with Jojo that cause him to reject Hitler, reject his radicalization, and choose love and kindness instead.
The character of Captain Klenzendorf (Sam Rockwell) has raised some questions from the public. Klenzendorf is gay and his participation in the Nazi army has been criticised as homophobic due to Nazi persecution of gay men during that time, but I read Klenzendorf as a conscripted soldier who ruined his military career on purpose as a kind of protest. Some readings of his character argue that he was an unapologetic Nazi — but there is textual evidence to suggest he was in the resistance (or at least knew Rosie was in the resistance and didn’t snitch), and he saves both Elsa and Jojo from certain death. I saw Klenzendorf as someone who is doing what he could to disrupt fascism as a closeted gay man; nonetheless, his participation in the Nazi army haunts him — as it should — until his death. His character is interesting to me because of how a specific type of (ruthless, heterosexual, militarized, non-racialized) masculinity was being enforced at the time — a masculinity that clearly deviated from Klenzendorf’s. He becomes complicit because he does not reveal his true self.
Jojo Rabbit is a movie that defies traditional depictions of Nazi Germany and the Holocaust, and this can be a shocking change of tone. By balancing comedy and drama, Waititi’s film is an insightful interrogation of fascism and white hegemonic masculinity from the perspective of a boy who isn’t afraid to grow into someone better. The final message is one of hope, as if Waititi is holding up these horrors for us to see, these unforgivable times, and telling us that hope and joy must exist in terrible times. Otherwise, how can we survive?As Jojo says: today, do what you can.
