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Nuremberg isn't subtle, but it turns out prosecuting Nazis doesn't need to be

Hermann Göring (Russell Crowe) is on trial and James Vanderbilt's loud, urgent, earnest courtroom drama reminds viewers how history repeats itself.

Nuremberg isn't subtle, but it turns out prosecuting Nazis doesn't need to be

One of the first images in James Vanderbilt’s Nuremberg is a man pissing on a swastika. The rest of the film isn’t much more subtle. To be fair to Nuremberg, written and directed by Vanderbilt and based on Jack El-Hai’s book The Nazi And The Psychiatrist, subtlety might not have ever been called for here. The broad strokes of the Nuremberg trial are familiar: an unprecedented, sweeping global effort to hold surviving Nazi leaders to account for their crimes. It’s already gotten the movie treatment more than once on the big screen and the small, so as Vanderbilt goes back to that well, it’s welcome that he’s angling for something a bit different.

Ironically, though, what stands out about this particular Nuremberg dramatization is not its effort to play with the narrative of the trial, or its clever notion to concoct a kind of Nazi Silence Of The Lambs. No, Nuremberg works best when it’s loud, urgent, and almost hysterically earnest in its messaging, not because it’s a particularly new message, but because it once again feels like something someone must scream from the rooftops.

Nuremberg takes a two-pronged approach to documenting the trial, beginning with the surrender of Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring (Russell Crowe) in the days after Adolf Hitler’s suicide. As the most powerful man in Nazi Germany still alive after the war, Göring is public enemy number one in the trial that U.S. Supreme Court Justice Robert H. Jackson (Michael Shannon) hopes to organize. Jackson’s side of the story, at least at first, lays out the broad strokes of the Nuremberg trials, following a dogged prosecutor as he tries to assemble a tribunal unlike anything ever before seen. 

But the narrative quickly pivots, not abandoning Jackson’s story exactly, but back-burnering it in favor of Douglas Kelley (Rami Malek), a hotshot U.S. Army psychiatrist who’s been called to a secret military prison to examine and evaluate the remaining members of Nazi high command, Göring chief among them. Energetic, charming, and practically drooling over the notion of getting inside the mind of the world’s most famous surviving Nazi, Kelley dives right in, thinking there’ll be a bestselling book in it for him if he can crack Göring’s mind. 

Two potential American heroes, both trying to do different versions of the same thing. Both Jackson and Kelley would like to put evil, real evil, on display for the whole world to see, not just to prove the Allies vanquished that evil, but to make sure something like the Third Reich cannot ever happen again. And if they advance their own careers in the process, that’s just gravy. 

There’s an insightful movie to be made with regards to that gravy, that idea that opportunistic Allied careerists jumped into Nuremberg as a means of propping up their own postwar prospects, but Nuremberg isn’t all that interested in seeing that narrative through to the end. Instead, Göring and Kelley are locked into sessions that are meant to be a clash of titanic intellects but often play like a series of rote steps toward bonding. Kelley figures out that Göring secretly speaks English, Göring figures out that Kelley might be lying to him about his family, and on the game goes. It’s in these moments that Vanderbilt’s script—peppered throughout with newsreel-style asides and characters reciting exposition to make sure the audience can keep up—sags. It becomes a limp costume drama, not an effort to look evil in the face so you can be sure to recognize it when it comes around again.

If it weren’t for the presence of the always-committed Crowe, and the presence of strong supporting actors like John Slattery and Leo Woodall, Nuremberg‘s first half would collapse under the weight of its earth-toned visuals and the sense that it’s constantly preaching to the choir. With war movies, there are films that want to make you think and films that want to make you nod in agreement. Nuremberg is steadfastly the latter, until it isn’t.

Nuremberg‘s classic build-up is pleasing enough to the eye (it was shot by Ridley Scott regular Dariusz Wolski) and packed with enough good performances to keep you watching, but its back half makes the whole work. Once the trial is set to begin, and Shannon’s Jackson takes on a bigger role, the goal is no longer understanding Göring, but convicting him. It’s here that Vanderbilt starts to aim for something different, and the film takes off. 

On the surface, you have a courtroom drama in which Shannon, with an assist from Richard E. Grant as U.K. prosecutor David Maxwell Fyfe, goes toe-to-toe with Crowe. That’s entertaining enough, particularly as Crowe gets to play with Göring’s legendary ego. This is a man who, according to Lynn H. Nicholas’ seminal book The Rape Of Europa, used to keep a bowl of diamonds on his desk just so he could pick them up and play with them from time to time. Crowe understands the bombast it must have taken to keep a man like that going. His Göring is never humbled by these proceedings, never frightened, never intellectually lost, and unlike his scenes with Malek, his scenes with Shannon showcase this in startling, timely ways. With his slicked-back hair and rotund silhouette, Crowe’s Göring shuffles through the trial, arms at his sides, as unbothered and oblivious as Donald Trump touring his new marble bathroom. He has no concern for anyone but himself—no concern for even the vaguest notion of justice—and it’s easy to imagine him sitting behind a desk, playing with diamonds while the world burns. It’s a fascinating performance, and it helps seal the deal on the most compelling part of Nuremberg.

Nuremberg is at its best—and its best is pretty damn compelling—when it is a story that should not need to be told again, and one that’s well aware of that fact. It takes too much time, almost 150 minutes, to get there, but Vanderbilt’s film slowly, confidently morphs into something beyond a cautionary tale and more like a klaxon blaring through the cinema. All the exasperation generated by the news, all the frustration of a world in which evil charges forward, is on full display by its end. Vanderbilt’s point is not that it can’t happen again, but that it’s already happening. Eugene O’Neill said “There is no present or future—only the past, happening over and over again—now.” Nuremberg is that sentiment writ as large and as loud as possible. 

Director: James Vanderbilt
Writer: James Vanderbilt
Starring: Russell Crowe, Rami Malek, Leo Woodall, John Slattery, Mark O’Brien, Colin Hanks, Wrenn Schmidt, Lydia Peckham, Richard E. Grant, Michael Shannon
Release Date: November 7, 2025

 
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