The Masseur, the Nazi, and the Truth: Unraveling the Enigma of 'I Is Another'
There’s something deeply unsettling about a story that dares to blur the lines between hero and charlatan, between truth and self-serving narrative. I Is Another does exactly that, and it’s a film that lingers long after the credits roll. Personally, I think what makes this movie so compelling isn’t just its historical backdrop—though the story of Felix Kersten, Himmler’s masseur, is undeniably fascinating—but the way it forces us to confront the slippery nature of truth itself. In an era where ‘post-truth’ has become a buzzword, this film feels eerily relevant.
A Train Ride Through Moral Ambiguity
The film’s setting is deceptively simple: a train bound for Oslo in 1952. But within the cramped confines of those cabins, director Felix Randau orchestrates a psychological duel that’s as tense as any wartime thriller. Claes Bang, with his commanding presence and linguistic prowess, embodies Kersten as a man who is both charismatic and deeply suspect. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Bang’s performance invites us to question Kersten’s motives. Is he a savior who leveraged his access to Himmler to free Jewish prisoners, or is he a narcissist rewriting history to burnish his legacy?
One thing that immediately stands out is the dynamic between Kersten and Hedda, the East German journalist played by Valerie Pachner. Their exchanges are electric, a game of cat and mouse where both parties have something to hide. Hedda, with her own tarnished past, isn’t exactly a paragon of integrity, and that’s what makes their confrontation so intriguing. If you take a step back and think about it, the film isn’t just about Kersten’s claims—it’s about the lengths people will go to in order to reshape their own narratives.
The White Buses Incident: A Footnote or a Fabrication?
The so-called White Buses incident, where Scandinavian prisoners were freed in 1945, is a historical footnote that Kersten claims as his own triumph. But here’s where things get murky: the credit for this operation is widely given to Folke Bernadotte of the Swedish Red Cross. Kersten’s version of events, as presented in the film, feels like a man desperate to claim a piece of history for himself. What many people don’t realize is that historical truth is often a matter of perspective, and Kersten’s perspective is as much about ego as it is about altruism.
This raises a deeper question: does it matter if Kersten exaggerated his role? From my perspective, the answer is yes—because it speaks to a broader human tendency to inflate our own importance. In a world where everyone wants to be the hero of their own story, Kersten’s tale is a cautionary one.
The Chemistry That Carries the Film
Let’s talk about the on-screen chemistry between Bang and Pachner, because it’s nothing short of magnetic. Their interactions are a masterclass in tension, and it’s this chemistry that elevates the film from a historical drama to a psychological thriller. A detail that I find especially interesting is how their physical differences—Bang’s towering presence versus Pachner’s delicate demeanor—mirror the power dynamics at play. When Kersten slams his fist on the table, it’s not just a moment of anger; it’s a reminder of how easily power can be wielded, and how fragile truth can be in the face of intimidation.
The Theater of Deception
The film’s structure, with its series of two-handers, gives it a theatrical quality that some might find off-putting. But personally, I think this works to its advantage. The confined space of the train cabins amplifies the sense of claustrophobia, forcing the characters—and the audience—to confront their own moral ambiguities. What this really suggests is that truth isn’t something that can be contained or controlled; it’s a living, breathing thing that shifts with every new perspective.
A Footnote That Demands Attention
I Is Another could have easily been a dry historical recounting, but Randau’s direction and the cast’s performances transform it into something far more profound. It’s a film that asks us to grapple with uncomfortable questions: Can a man who saved lives also be a liar? Does intention matter more than outcome? And in a world where truth is increasingly elusive, how do we separate fact from fiction?
In my opinion, the film’s greatest strength is its refusal to provide easy answers. It leaves us with more questions than resolutions, and that’s exactly what makes it so powerful. As we watch Kersten and Hedda circle each other like predators, we’re reminded that history isn’t just a collection of facts—it’s a story we tell ourselves, often with a healthy dose of self-interest.
Final Thoughts
As the train pulls into Oslo, the film leaves us with a lingering sense of unease. Kersten’s story, whether true or exaggerated, is a reminder that heroes and villains are rarely as clear-cut as we’d like to believe. What makes I Is Another such a compelling watch is its willingness to embrace that ambiguity. It’s not just a film about a masseur and a Nazi; it’s a meditation on the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of the chaos. And in that sense, it’s a story that’s as relevant today as it was in 1952.
Personally, I think this is a film that will stay with you—not because of its historical accuracy, but because of the questions it dares to ask. And in a world where truth is increasingly up for debate, those questions are more important than ever.
