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 this moral ambiguity that makes it so compelling. Personally, I think what makes this film particularly fascinating is how it uses a confined train setting to explore the vast, murky terrain of human deception. It’s not just about Felix Kersten, Himmler’s masseur, and his disputed claims of saving Jewish prisoners—it’s about the very nature of storytelling and how we construct our own legacies.
A Train Ride Through Moral Gray Areas
The film’s decision to set most of the action on a train in 1952 is, in my opinion, a stroke of genius. The cramped cabins become a metaphor for the claustrophobia of Kersten’s own narrative. Claes Bang, with his commanding presence, embodies a man who is both charming and deeply untrustworthy. One thing that immediately stands out is how the film refuses to paint him as either hero or villain. Instead, it leaves us to grapple with the uncomfortable question: Can someone who claims to have done good in a morally bankrupt system ever be fully redeemed?
What many people don’t realize is that Kersten’s story isn’t just a historical footnote—it’s a mirror to our own era of misinformation and self-aggrandizement. The way he manipulates his narrative, publishing a letter that paints him as the savior while undermining Folke Bernadotte, feels eerily familiar in the age of social media and spin doctors. If you take a step back and think about it, the film isn’t just about WWII; it’s about how we all curate our own truths, especially when the stakes are high.
The Journalist and the Game of Cat-and-Mouse
Valerie Pachner’s Hedda is the perfect foil to Kersten’s ego. Her character, a journalist with her own skeletons, adds layers of complexity to the narrative. What this really suggests is that truth-seeking is rarely a noble pursuit—it’s often driven by personal ambition, guilt, or desperation. Hedda’s charm offensive, her rummaging through Kersten’s luggage, and their eventual power struggle feel like a psychological chess match.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how both characters are flawed truth-tellers. Kersten may or may not have saved lives, but he’s clearly embellishing his role. Hedda, meanwhile, is chasing a scoop to redeem her career, not to uncover the truth for its own sake. This raises a deeper question: Does the motive behind the truth matter? Or is it the truth itself that stands alone?
The Theater of Deception
The film’s theatrical structure—a series of two-handers—could have felt stagey, but it works remarkably well here. From my perspective, the confined space amplifies the tension, forcing us to focus on the characters’ words and actions. The flashbacks to Kersten’s sessions with Himmler are particularly chilling, not because of overt violence, but because of the quiet manipulation at play.
What this really suggests is that power dynamics are often subtle, especially in systems as brutal as the Nazi regime. Kersten’s claim that he wasn’t an SS member or Nazi Party affiliate feels like a technicality—he was still complicit in a system that enabled genocide. This is where the film shines: it doesn’t let anyone off the hook, not even the audience.
The Broader Implications: Truth in a Post-Truth World
If there’s one thing I Is Another does brilliantly, it’s hold a mirror up to our own society. In an era where facts are often dismissed as ‘fake news’ and personal narratives reign supreme, the film feels eerily relevant. Personally, I think it’s a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked storytelling. Kersten’s diary, which Hedda reads with skepticism, is a perfect metaphor for how easily history can be rewritten by those with the loudest voices.
What many people don’t realize is that the White Buses incident, often credited to Folke Bernadotte, is still debated by historians. The film doesn’t take sides, but it forces us to question: Who gets to write history? And whose version do we choose to believe?
Final Thoughts: A Footnote That Demands Attention
I Is Another is more than a historical drama—it’s a psychological thriller, a character study, and a commentary on the nature of truth. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it manages to be both intimate and expansive. The train becomes a microcosm of the larger world, where everyone is both predator and prey, truth-teller and liar.
In my opinion, the film’s greatest achievement is its refusal to provide easy answers. It leaves us with more questions than resolutions, which is exactly what great art should do. If you take a step back and think about it, isn’t that the essence of truth? It’s not a fixed point but a constantly shifting narrative, shaped by perspective, motive, and memory.
So, is Felix Kersten a hero or a fraud? Personally, I think the answer doesn’t matter as much as the question itself. And that’s what makes I Is Another a film that lingers long after the credits roll.
