Steven Mackintosh

 The Aryan Couple - N.Y. Times

''The Aryan Couple,'' directed by John Daly, is a minor example of a major genre: the feel-good Holocaust movie.It is not that Mr. Daly's film, which begins with a tour of the desolate modern-day landscape of Auschwitz, lacks seriousness. On the contrary, it is drenched in a somber piety abundantly conveyed by Igor Khoroshev's overwrought score and etched into the earnest faces of the talented cast. The problem, as it is so often in well-intentioned movies of this kind, is that rather than illuminate the enormity of Nazism, ''The Aryan Couple'' trades upon our knowledge of it for emotional impact.
The history that suggested this fictional story involves the Europa Plan, an arrangement conceived in 1944 in which wealthy European Jews traded their wealth and property for their lives. Martin Landau, with marvelous dignity, plays Josef Krauzenberg, a Hungarian steel manufacturer who is about to sign over his factories, his palace and his art collection to Heinrich Himmler in exchange for the safe passage of himself; his wife, Rachel (Judy Parfitt); and their extended family to Switzerland and then Palestine. Left behind will be his servants, Ingrid and Hans Vassman (Kenny Doughty and Caroline Carver), the Aryan couple of the title, who are actually undercover Jewish operatives in the anti-German resistance.
In other hands the story might have made for a sinister, queasy thriller, perhaps in the manner of early Hitchcock. But in spite of the relish with which able British actors portray high-ranking Nazis -- tapping their cigarettes on silver cases, knocking back draughts of whiskey, clicking their heels, just as in a hundred other movies -- ''The Aryan Couple'' sags and slogs.
The climactic dinner party, in which both Himmler (Danny Webb) and Adolf Eichmann (Steven Mackintosh) show up at the Krauzenberg mansion, could have been a macabre set piece, with the ultimate barbarism dressed up in the raiment of civility. Hitchcock or Roman Polanski might have known what to do with it, but Mr. Daly is too flat-footed and cautious a director and too timid a writer to give the horror of the situation its full measure of absurdity.
Instead there is an inadvertently ridiculous concluding chase, complete with drawn pistols and chuffing trains, in which we find ourselves rooting for Himmler against Eichmann and cheering (or chuckling) when a particularly odious Nazi dies an extravagantly hammy death. By then the simple gravity of the early scene has been frittered away in ungainly speechifying and sluggish suspense.

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