MAX

I suppose naming your movie “Hitler” would not be a wise marketing decision. But in the case of Max, Menno Meyjes’ grand entrance into the world of under-appreciated, overlooked quality cinema, it would have been more appropriate. Though John Cusack makes up for recent tripe like Serendipity by acting the hell out of the Max Rothman role, he takes a major backseat to Noah Taylor, who doesn’t so much portray Hitler, as he does become him.
Taylor, as Hitler, becomes a walking embodiment of life during wartime-- switching from “all’s quiet on the Western front” one minute, to “bombs over Baghdad” the next. You endear yourself to his professional frustrations, and forget that you are watching an angry young man who will eventually go on to become the monster he was. That is a feat in and of itself.
When he becomes the venom-spewing bigot Hitler was, you find yourself with severe tunnel vision. You see nothing else on screen but the ugly, furious Taylor, spitting and hollering with the passion of the madman himself. It’s a drastic polarity to portray, but he does it with such subtlety and effortlessness, you can’t help but hang on to his every onscreen moment.
Unfortunately, the ending is a pre-written one, and Taylor’s performance makes you even more disgusted with the outcome.
He forces you to be engaged in the life of a man who issued death to millions. And you do it without struggle. That’s acting, the likes of which we are sorely, sorely deprived.
That’s why you should see Max.