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An impassioned clash of art and politics lies at the heart of
Taking Sides, a historical drama that resonates with timeless relevance. Director Istvan Szabo remained in his native Hungary during Soviet occupation, and that experience clearly informed his approach to this fact-based film about Wilhelm Furtwangler, the celebrated conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic, who chose to remain in Germany as the Nazis rose to power. World War II has ended, and now Furtwangler (superbly played by Stellan Skarsgârd) must endure intense interrogation by Steve Arnold (Harvey Keitel), a pugnacious U.S. Army major assigned to root out Nazi collaborators. While the overzealous Arnold deals in moral absolutes, Furtwangler's embrace of art for art's sake opens him up to charges that he supported Hitler, intentionally or not, by naively believing that art and politics could remain separate in the cauldron of the Third Reich. Based on the play by Ronald Harwood (
The Pianist),
Taking Sides presents a compelling collision of ideologies, probing complex personal and political motivations while presenting an authentic, emotionally charged portrait of German culture immediately following Hitler's demise. Despite its title, the film itself remains neutral regarding its central argument, leaving the viewer to ponder the weighty issues involved.
--Jeff Shannon
From The New Yorker
After the Second World War, the German conductor Wilhelm Furtwngler (played, though not impersonated, by Stellan Skarsgard) is questioned at length by Steve Arnold (Harvey Keitel), an American major, whose task is to "find him guilty." Furtwngler had stayed in place through the rise and fall of the Nazi regime, leading the Berlin and Vienna Philharmonic Orchestras in concerts that were not just sanctioned but encouraged. Even now, listeners are forced to wonder what role Furtwngler fulfilled for Hitler: lackey, dupe, or cultural front man? In the movie, he defends himself as a subtle resister; the screenwriter, Ronald Harwood, and the director, István Szabó, set up a hot, claustrophobic head-to-head between the accuser and the accused. The result is so conscious of its contribution to the moral debate that it forgets to wake up as a movie, and the shots of a ruined Berlin are a perfunctory joke. Keitel is an annoying presence, but maybe that's the point: Arnold is a brute, a bigot, and a philistine, but, when it comes to the sins of the maestro, he's right. -Anthony Lane
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker