Director: Vadim Perelman
Writers: Ilya Tsofin,
Stars: Nahuel Pérez Biscayart, Lars Eidinger, Jonas Nay
Synopsis: A young Belgian man is arrested by the Nazis and placed in a concentration camp. He attempts to avoid execution by swearing that he is Persian, and not Jewish.
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In Art Spiegelman’s famous graphic novel Maus, he depicted the true story of his father’s survival of Auschwitz, the notorious Nazi concentration camp responsible for the death of over a million Jews. Vladek Spiegelman avoided selektionen, the process by which prisoners were chosen to enter the chambers, with a stunning level of resourcefulness and determination. It is an inspiring tale and shows the strength of the human spirit in the face of such unspeakable hardship.
Vadim Perelman’s Persian Lessons follows a similar path, although without half the insight or ability of Maus. It follows Gilles (Nahuel Pérez Biscayart), an Antwerp born Jew who is taken to a concentration camp and narrowly survives an execution by claiming himself to be Persian. It so happens that the officer in charge of the camp’s kitchen, General Koch (Lars Eidinger), has plans to move to Persia after the war and open a restaurant. And so a deal is struck: Gilles may stay alive for as long as he can teach Koch the Persian language of Farsi, a language Gilles knows nothing about.
It’s an intriguing setup, albeit a farcical one. If it weren’t for the starkness of the source material, one might take Persian Lessons as a kind of absurdist comedy. An early scene shows Gilles in the camp kitchen, mere hours away from his first lesson with Koch and desperately trying to invent words for utensils and foodstuffs. It would be amusing to watch his panicked routine around the kitchen, picking up items like forks and bread, hurriedly bestowing gibberish words on them, if you weren’t aware that should Gilles fail to convince Koch he can speak Farsi, he will certainly be dead within the hour.
At the heart of Persian Lessons is the relationship between Koch and Gilles. Biscayart does well as a wide-eyed, emaciated, and utterly petrified Gilles; a man who knows he is dancing on the barrel of a gun and probably hasn’t slept in months. Eidinger, meanwhile, has the difficult task of humanising – to a certain extent – his Nazi chef, Koch. It’s interesting to note that Koch sees himself most simply as following orders (calling to mind the famous aphorism of the banality of evil) and is a man of culture and even some depth. For instance, a stunning scene sees him recite a poem to Gilles which he wrote entirely in the latter’s made-up language, much to Gilles’ astonishment.
The two play well off each other, and in their interactions is a sort of cat-and-mouse scenario where the question is always about how many steps ahead Gilles can stay, given Koch’s suspicions that all Jews are deceitful and manipulative. Unfortunately, the central performances of both men – as great as they are – is the best that can be said of Persian Lessons. For a dialogue heavy script, there is an expectation of depth of character, but Perelman doesn’t seem interested in exploring this beyond the odd moment, such as Koch’s poem or a late-act revelation about his parents which doesn’t really go anywhere. Nor does the question of Koch’s loyalties beyond a scene with his superior who implies that moving to Persia after war isn’t very patriotic. There are strands of moments which tease out a deeper meaning, but these are quickly dropped without much fanfare.
Perhaps the main problem lies with the concept itself: in order to believe it, the viewer must assume Koch is gullible enough to accept he’s learning the Farsi language. However, the German general shows himself to be educated and indeed intelligent, which makes it all the more confusing that he barely challenges Gilles’ lessons, which consist almost entirely of vocabulary and have nothing of grammar, phonetics, or even syntax in them. From this we are to believe Koch could become fluent. Also confusing are the words Gilles invents, some of which are borrowed from his fellow prisoners and bear no relation to a Middle Eastern dialect whatsoever. It stretches belief that Koch would not notice this after just a few lessons. Should Perelman have gone full tilt with a satirical story, perhaps using the basis of language as a metaphor for universality versus the Nazi agenda, it may have worked and disbelief could have been suspended; however, with such a serious tone and stakes as high as they are it’s hard to accept the concept, as though the producers of Springtime for Hitler were trying to make Son of Saul and couldn’t decide which direction to go in.
For all that, Persian Lessons does have its moments of quietly brutal force, such as a powerful denouement which will have a lasting impact after the end credits have rolled. It’s a worthwhile watch for the fantastic performances of its central leads, and if you can let go of the glaringly obvious language plot holes, then you may find Persian Lessons a thrilling addition to the ever increasing genre of Holocaust movies.
Grade: C+
