The new feature by German director Felix Randau had its world premiere at this year's Locarno Film Festival, in the Piazza Grande section. I Is Another is the fictional portrait of Felix Kersten, masseur to Heinrich Himmler, the most powerful figure of the Nazi regime after Hitler. We spoke to the director about his approach, his visual concept and the representation of evil.

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Cineuropa: How did you come across the character of Kersten? What fascinated you about him?
Felix Randau: About 15 years ago, I read an article about him in Der Spiegel and thought it might be interesting. But it wasn’t until about five years ago that the idea of a German-French co-production came up. The film was initially supposed to be a heroic story, because Kersten is a very prominent figure in France thanks to Joseph Kessel’s famous book. But when I started doing my own research, I quickly realised that I couldn’t tell that heroic story. Instead, I wanted to tell the story of a character that is constantly between black and white.

How did Claes Bang come to play this character?
I had been watching Claes for quite a long time because I think he’s a great actor. I also knew that he speaks perfect German because he worked in the theatre here for many years before becoming well known. When I started working on Kersten, I already knew at the beginning of the writing process that I would like him to play the role. Of course, he looks nothing like the real Felix Kersten, which I actually think is a good thing because this isn’t a documentary. He had to embody the character.

How did you come up with the idea of having most of the film take place on a train?
At first, I had the idea of setting the story on Kersten’s actual country estate in Sweden. But then I felt I needed to change something, and I considered various options. Initially, I thought about setting it on a ship, and then the train came to me. It creates a sense of claustrophobia, something inescapable. It’s like a courtroom on wheels – no one can escape. And it also allows you to introduce a ticking clock.

The film’s aesthetic is, of course, shaped by the period in which the story takes place. What were the key elements of the visual concept?
Sebastian Thaler, our cinematographer, and I watched a lot of old film noirs from the 1940s and 1950s. They feature these ambiguous characters, and visually, there is a great deal of emphasis on light and shadow, which reinforces that ambiguity. The second consideration was that everything should have a subtle touch of the surreal. Not to the point where you feel that what you’re seeing isn’t real at all, but rather with a slight twist towards the dreamlike. There are repeatedly some elements that aren’t quite real, including in the sound.

What exactly was important to you about the sound?
The sound and music should together form a voice of their own. At times, the sound and music were meant to reflect what was going on inside the journalist’s head: her confusion or her determination, depending on the situation. To me, it’s almost like the protagonist’s inner voice, provided by Valerie Pachner. Developing this was a relatively long process. Long before shooting began, composer Bernhard Fleischmann started writing and composing different motifs based on the screenplay. In the editing room, we then began experimenting with them. The next step was to coordinate this with the sound design because the music and sound design repeatedly alternate and blend into one another. A lot of it was simply a process of experimentation.

In flashbacks, Kersten recounts his memories. How did you approach creating these sequences?
In my view, these flashbacks are completely fabricated by Kersten. They are based on stories that he himself told and that have been passed down. That’s why I absolutely did not want to make them documentary-like. But there was another aspect to it as well: it really bothers me, and I also find it dangerous, that figures like Himmler – and Nazi leaders in general – are so often portrayed as grotesque, screaming figures whom you can distance yourself from and say: “They have nothing to do with me.” From the very beginning, it was important to me to portray Himmler as he might actually have been. Essentially, as a small, somewhat pathetic and embarrassing man who nevertheless tries to be someone very important. I believe that when you dehumanise evil, you also take away its danger. It then becomes nothing more than a laughing stock. And I think that’s completely wrong.

Did you also encounter any resistance when you started looking for partners and when presenting the project?
There were indeed some negative reactions from a few funding bodies, but also from various actors who said they didn’t want to give a figure like Himmler a platform. I don’t just think that’s wrong; I think it’s dangerous, as I said. If you push evil away or ignore it, it doesn’t disappear. On the contrary, it resurfaces somewhere else.

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