Review - The City Without Jews

 December 10, 2021
 
The City Without Jews – Austria, 1924
 

It is nearly impossible to watch H.K. Breslauer’s 1924 film The City Without Jews without seeing it as prophetic, and yet, perhaps the best way to view it is as a lens into the minds of Austrians circa 1920. The First World War had economically devastated Austria-Hungary and left it in a state of disarray. While the economy improved in the early 1920s, partly due to economic aid from Western nations, inflation brought the real threat of economic collapse. Society was fractured, and there were even fears of a civil war. It is not uncommon in situations such as this for some people to look for a scapegoat for their woes, and sadly it is usually foreigners that are cast in that role. In fact, it had already happened in Austria – in 1669, Austria had expelled all Jews. Amazingly, this policy lasted for almost 200 years.
 
Breslauer and author Maximillian Hugo Bettauer must have sensed something was in the air, something that was separating society into us and them, and been alarmed by it. Their film, The City Without Jews, was a warning of the direction society was heading in and a desperate plea for an immediate reversal. It is telling, then, that it was the last film Breslauer ever direction. Far more foreboding was the fate of Bettauer. In March 1925, he was murdered by a Nazi sympathizer named Otto Rothstock. Rothstock was ultimately found guilty, but it was by reason of insanity, and he was incarcerated for just eighteen months. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to have done him any good. According to his Wikipedia page, in a 1977 interview on Austrian TV, he actually boasted of Bettauer’s “extinction.”
 
The City Without Jews cuts right to the chase. It begins with picket signs and demonstrations and soon jumps to a series of disparate scenes in which we get a good sense of the desperation experienced by working class and of the utter indifference of the upper class. Scenes of social revelry are interspersed with ones in which shoppers are shocked at how much more basic necessities cost today than yesterday. The crowds swell so much that a handful of protesters breach the building and march into the chamber where their elected leaders are meeting. Their message: “It’s the Jews who are stealing our jobs.” The comment does not go unnoticed by the Chancellor. Soon we see him standing in front of the members of the government and proposing that all people of Jewish faith, including baptized Jews and children of mixed marriages, be expelled. The proposal is met with thunderous applause.
 
What follows are rather stunning images, as families take what little they can carry and leave their lives behind. Trains filled with Jewish refugees leave the station, refugees walk on foot along long dusty roads, their destination hardly within walking distance. A family being separated by the law expresses their farewells at a train station, and weary faces hint at the challenges and uncertainty that lies ahead. It’s all very moving.
 
And yet at the same time, there is never a real sense of imminent danger. In fact, these may be the politest anti-Semites you’ll ever see. The authorities never physically mistreat or abuse anyone, and no one engages in xenophobic rhetoric after they’re gone. As for the journey, it could have been worse. We don’t witness anyone die from exhaustion or starvation along the way, and none of the characters speak of mass casualties. When those that remain talk of the changed atmosphere, their comments are mainly about the job opportunities and better futures that will now be theirs. Understandable, especially given the thrust of the film’s final act, but it undercuts the notion that those exiled were targeted solely on the basis of their religion and perceived hoarding of wealth.
 
The film does an excellent job of detailing the political calculations of many of those in power, as well as the immediate ramifications of their actions, including some who vote for the expulsion despite being in opposition to it. There’s also mention of foreign influence, reminding viewers of some people’s willingness to back other countries’ inhumane proposals. And then there are the warnings, that those who cause inhumanity are rarely remembered fondly in history. All of this works.
 
Where the film slightly falters is in its third act. In reality, the Jewish population eventually returned to Australia, so much so that by the time the 1930s rolled around, there were over 300,000 people of Jewish descent living there. This fact is likely what drives the events of the film’s final act, and in truth, it likely played well in 1924. After all, there’s nothing like a happy ending. However, seen in light of the events of the Second World War, the final act comes across as the naïve musings of two people who saw the signs, but not the level of hatred that motivated them. This is not the fault of Breslauer or Bettauer, of course, just as Chaplin is not to blame for the relatively light treatment of the Nazi-inspired characters in The Great Dictator. None of them knew how bad it would get. Still, the traumatic experience of the Jewish characters in The City Without Jews is somewhat trivialized by the presence of cheering crowds as the first Jewish resident returns.
 
In the end, The City Without Jews was a warning unheeded, yet it remains a powerful film. It sheds light on the conditions that can lead people to turn against their friends and neighbors, and it realistically depicts the international reaction to such acts and the isolation they can bring. Sure, its finale is more reminiscent of a spy film than a drama, but its action is at least in service of a noble cause. The City Without Jews is therefore a form of agenda filmmaking, and the world would be a better place if we’d heeded its warnings. (on DVD and Blu-ray from Flicker Alley)
 
3 and a half stars
 
*The City Without Jews is a silent film.