Specific images of the Holocaust have endlessly punctuated the film and TV landscape: The barbed wire of a concentration camp. Naked bodies rendered to skin and bone, tossed in discarded piles. Gleeful abuse and random killings by evil Nazis. Hollywood has repeatedly ingrained that imagery when presenting this horrific time in history, so to continue conjuring it adds to the collective trauma of an entire people.
Yet all these displays and more are the Sky Studios and Peacock co-production “The Tattooist of Auschwitz.” That makes it a challenging show to sit through, let alone binge six episodes of, when the event series drops on Peacock on May 2.
The series finds inspiration in Heather Morris’ controversial, bestselling 2018 book of the same name. Morris wrote the debut novel after spending time with a Slovakian Holocaust survivor named Lali Sokolov (nee Ludwig Eisenberg), who was a tattooist at Auschwitz II-Birkenau.
The book, and now the show, tells Lali’s story from his arrival at the camp in 1942 to his escape in 1945. While there, he met a woman named Gita Furman while tattooing an identification number into her flesh. It was love at first sight, and the pair found ways to communicate and meet while at the camp. Eventually, after many close calls and gruesome encounters, Furman also escaped. The two reunited, married, moved to Australia and had a son.
The gist of the story happened in real life, but the book was published as fiction. Still, historians and scholars questioned the details, claiming the book contains misrepresentations and errors. Some of the big ones were the description of the camp and its layout, the train route characters took, and the number Sokolov tattooed onto his eventual wife’s arm. For her part, Morris maintains she wrote a work of fiction and told Sokolov’s version of events, not the version of events that happened.
The argument against telling a story like this — inspired by real people, grounded in reality, but then taking creative liberties — is that those who aren’t familiar with the Holocaust or the discrepancies could take the book (and now the show) as purely factual. Neither project holds back harrowing details of death and torture, yet both romanticize the love story set against these circumstances.
Even with the best intentions of showing the perseverance of the human spirit and how love finds a way, these were highly upsetting events that led to massive generational trauma. It’s essential to know the history and hear the stories, but in recreating those events for a viewing audience, you need to figure out what you’re adding to the landscape that is helpful and not harmful. Over six episodes, “The Tattooist of Auschwitz” does both.
Director and co-executive producer Tali Shalom-Ezer and the rest of the crew attempted to address the book’s criticisms as carefully as possible, hiring consultants and ensuring everyone had access to counseling. They also changed Gita’s number from 34902 (what Lali remembered in the book) to 4562, which Gita confirmed before her death. Story-wise, “The Tattooist of Auschwitz” acknowledges this is a retelling by having an aged Lali (Harvey Keitel) recount his experiences to a first-time author named Heather (Melanie Lynskey).
Through that retelling and flashbacks, viewers meet 25-year-old Lali, played by Jonah Hauer-King. It’s a heavy lift for the actor, whose most recognizable role to-date is Prince Eric in the live-action “The Little Mermaid.” Lali is a complex and haunted character, and Hauer-King throws himself into the role with aplomb. This is a man who ultimately does what it takes to survive, and he internalizes the pain that his involvement and complicity causes to heartbreaking effect.
As a tattooist, Lali inks identification numbers onto prisoners’ arms to take advantage of the better sleeping arrangements and more food. But he apologizes with each prick of the needle and later shares those extra rations with fellow prisoners. In small ways, he gives back, trying to balance the scales.
It’s fathomable that Lali’s position would grant him certain advantages, but the general tolerance he receives is inconsistent compared to the treatment of those around him. He’s able to fight back and question guards without significant repercussions, all while those same guards are quick to shoot others in the head for stumbling or using the latrine at night.
Lali’s ability to maneuver around the camp also separates him from others. He evades guards and bribes others to visit the eternal optimist Gita (played by Anna Próchniak with a memorable spark in her eye). In one scene, Lali interacts with the notorious Auschwitz doctor Josef Mengele, selling a piece of his soul in exchange for penicillin that will save Gita’s life. (The scene is another from the book that has drawn criticism, since penicillin wasn’t widely available at the time.)
Lali’s love for Gita gives him purpose and allows him to maintain hope as he endures increasing horrors. Many of the concentration camp scenes drive home the cruelty of such places, and certainly put the audience in the shoes of those who were there. An estimated 1.1 million people died at Auschwitz and they, unlike Lali, never had the chance to tell their story. The series drives that point home with closeups of faces staring into the camera after characters are killed or sent to the gas chambers. It’s a haunting device that humanizes these victims and reminds viewers they were more than a number.
What’s harder to watch are the random acts of violence shown in full detail: Men picked off in front of a firing squad. A woman shot in the head after begging for help. Lali called in to identify two bodies, and the guards joking he was the only Jew to ever walk out of the chamber alive. Sick, naked women shoved outside to freeze overnight and free up the beds. “The Tattooist of Auschwitz”is full of such unnecessarily harrowing moments.
They’re enough to make the present-day narrative breaks a needed reprieve. That mental load is mirrored onscreen as Heather grapples with secondary trauma from what she’s learning. Meanwhile, the series also uses those moments to address historical inaccuracies and Lali’s ability to remember correctly. Lali is haunted by the ghosts of his past and frequently interacts with them, sometimes in Heather’s presence. There are also hints that he may sometimes be embellishing to forgive himself for participating in it all.
The idea is that the truth lies somewhere between recollection and reality, and one man’s experience isn’t necessarily universal. Knowing and sharing his story is important, but with the appropriate context. At the end of the day, “The Tattooist of Auschwitz” puts the dichotomy of the human spirit on full display, showing the possibility of love and the unimaginable monstrosity that hatred can bring.
Or at least it does if you can watch it all the way through.
All six episodes of “The Tattooist of Auschwitz” are now streaming on Peacock.
Source Agencies
