Some documentaries are overcooked showcases of sleek editing techniques and computer graphics, while others are rather slim in stature. Blind Spot: Hitler's Secretary is an unfussy motion picture that consists entirely of about 90 minutes of interviews with Traudl Junge. To overlook the barebones testimony of Junge, Adolf Hitler's youngest personal secretary, would be a mistake.
There are some who may find the hour and a half to be lacking in bells and whistles, but there's much more going on here than meets the immediate eye. In our day and age of attention deficits, real or imagined, it is often hard to convince people that they really ought to listen to what Junge has to say when she's not saying it over an explosive musical score or in 3D.
In any event, directors André Heller and Othmar Schmiderer present Junge sitting in a chair in her home and only cut away a few times. The cuts are used for different reasons. One particular cut shows Junge watching the main feed of the interview. She offers a little extra commentary over what we've just heard.
Junge's memoir, Until the Final Hour, was used as a basis for one of my favourite motion pictures of the last few years, 2004's dazzling Downfall. In Blind Spot, we learn more about what it was like during those final years of Hitler's power and life. Perhaps more importantly, we learn about Traudl Junge and how she was swept up into such profound evil without knowing the details. Spellbound by Hitler's charisma and by, at least in part, her daily routines, she held reality in her blind spot.
There are some who will mumble over what they feel is a mere news interview, but they tragically miss the depths of Blind Spot. Here is a motion picture that should be a motion picture. The depths of Junge''s consciousness are raw and torn apart. Her facial expressions, her tears and her agony are spread across these 90 minutes and present an emotional cavern that few other movies would have dared to explore.
It is the unflinching, unadorned nature of Blind Spot that grants it the power it needs to carry on. It is the silent moments, too, and the space between words that speak volumes. It is the small moments, described in almost endearing detail, that display what happened in the bunker and during Hitler's final hours in bright, vibrant colours. We don't need a score, we don't need graphic assistance. We carry it, I think, in our mind's eye.
The trouble with an unscripted masterwork like Blind Spot is that we can't see the bottom. There's no direction for Junge to follow, other than to sit in a chair and talk about her experiences. When she wanders off on tangents, we go along and the purpose engrosses us. As she begins to talk about Hitler's affection for Blondie, his dog, we marvel at the detail. Later, when Junge explains how Hitler poisoned his dog during his final maddening moments, the circle closes.
With most moviegoers, even those brave enough to chart the waters of documentary films, used to a line-up of talking heads and a barrage of information, Blind Spot proves deeper than most with just one individual voice carrying on. As a true sign of fascination, I was left with more questions. Just as I wanted more out of hearing my grandmother talk about her life experiences, I wanted more out of Traudl Junge. Perhaps this was all she had to give, though, as she passed away in February of 2002 at the age of 81 (the same day the film premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival).
Before she died, Junge apparently said "Now that I've let go of my story, I can let go of my life."
There are some who may find the hour and a half to be lacking in bells and whistles, but there's much more going on here than meets the immediate eye. In our day and age of attention deficits, real or imagined, it is often hard to convince people that they really ought to listen to what Junge has to say when she's not saying it over an explosive musical score or in 3D.
In any event, directors André Heller and Othmar Schmiderer present Junge sitting in a chair in her home and only cut away a few times. The cuts are used for different reasons. One particular cut shows Junge watching the main feed of the interview. She offers a little extra commentary over what we've just heard.
Junge's memoir, Until the Final Hour, was used as a basis for one of my favourite motion pictures of the last few years, 2004's dazzling Downfall. In Blind Spot, we learn more about what it was like during those final years of Hitler's power and life. Perhaps more importantly, we learn about Traudl Junge and how she was swept up into such profound evil without knowing the details. Spellbound by Hitler's charisma and by, at least in part, her daily routines, she held reality in her blind spot.
There are some who will mumble over what they feel is a mere news interview, but they tragically miss the depths of Blind Spot. Here is a motion picture that should be a motion picture. The depths of Junge''s consciousness are raw and torn apart. Her facial expressions, her tears and her agony are spread across these 90 minutes and present an emotional cavern that few other movies would have dared to explore.
It is the unflinching, unadorned nature of Blind Spot that grants it the power it needs to carry on. It is the silent moments, too, and the space between words that speak volumes. It is the small moments, described in almost endearing detail, that display what happened in the bunker and during Hitler's final hours in bright, vibrant colours. We don't need a score, we don't need graphic assistance. We carry it, I think, in our mind's eye.
The trouble with an unscripted masterwork like Blind Spot is that we can't see the bottom. There's no direction for Junge to follow, other than to sit in a chair and talk about her experiences. When she wanders off on tangents, we go along and the purpose engrosses us. As she begins to talk about Hitler's affection for Blondie, his dog, we marvel at the detail. Later, when Junge explains how Hitler poisoned his dog during his final maddening moments, the circle closes.
With most moviegoers, even those brave enough to chart the waters of documentary films, used to a line-up of talking heads and a barrage of information, Blind Spot proves deeper than most with just one individual voice carrying on. As a true sign of fascination, I was left with more questions. Just as I wanted more out of hearing my grandmother talk about her life experiences, I wanted more out of Traudl Junge. Perhaps this was all she had to give, though, as she passed away in February of 2002 at the age of 81 (the same day the film premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival).
Before she died, Junge apparently said "Now that I've let go of my story, I can let go of my life."