Fatherland Review: Sandra Hüller and Hanns Zischler are Sensational in Paweł Pawlikowski’s Transcendent Chamber Piece [A-] Cannes
In Thomas Mann’s final novel, “Doctor Faustus: The Life of the German Composer Adrian Leverkühn, as Told by A Friend,” the Nobel Prize-winning writer repositions Goethe’s Faust, exploring the crisis that shook and stirred Europe in the immediate aftermath of World War II. What’s so astonishing about Mann’s sprawling portrait of a fictional artist is that the musicality in its design connects directly with the central character’s passion, and its allusion to the Third Reich still feels strikingly contemporary. Polish master Paweł Pawlikowski (Ida, Cold War) is well-versed in uncovering the dark turmoils of history, and with his latest film, Fatherland, he crafts a chiseled diamond of a chamber piece. Much like in Mann’s work, Pawlikowski’s exploration of a critical chapter in the lives of Thomas and Erika Mann shows that the distant past doesn’t just echo into the present. It reverberates with a quietly devastating resonance.
Fatherland begins with Mann’s ill-fated son, Klaus (August Diehl), lamenting to his sister Erika (a staggering Sandra Hüller) about their father’s upcoming journey across Germany. Like many of the film’s most emotionally revealing moments, the pair’s conversation takes place over the phone, depicting the growing distance and isolation that affected so many in the postwar period. Pawlikowski’s frequent collaborator and cinematographer Łukasz Żal frames Klaus in a tight, boxy aspect ratio, incorporating subtle details to further illustrate that divide. As he sits naked on the floor with an androgynous lover in bed behind him, it calls to mind the evocative portraiture of Nan Goldin, with the sounds of his German accent operating in stark contrast to the palm trees of the South of France outside his bedroom window. He’s a bit agitated, sharing with Erika that he swore he’d never set foot back in Germany, which means he isn’t enthusiastic about the invitation to join his sister for their father’s upcoming fêting. The two are conflicted not only about their father’s position in the current postwar landscape but also about what it means to be German in 1949. As Erika tells her brother, “German was a language created to lie and our father was a master at it.”
Thomas Mann’s (Hanns Zischler) mastery of the language made him a writer who embodied early 20th-century German culture, and, as Erika told Klaus, the planned tour behind the Iron Curtain is to “make people feel better.” It’s a haunting thread that runs through the film’s taut, 82-minute narrative. When are reassuring words a salve, and when do they become a danger if rallied behind? Pawlikowski and co-writer Henk Handloegten aren’t interested in directly answering the questions they pose; instead, they let these historical connections between the past and present linger in the conversations in the film’s spaces of transition. On its surface, Thomas and Erika have returned to their native Germany, but they aren’t home. Instead, they move temporarily through hotel lobbies, cavernous halls, and nearly empty restaurants. It’s in these spaces that Żal’s masterful photography recalls his work on Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest, capturing characters with an anthropological gaze. His beautiful black-and-white images make Fatherland feel like a newly resurrected wartime David Lean print, and yet that intoxicating beauty of Żal and Pawlikowski’s work feels designed to work as a mirage, a glittering distraction from the atrocities committed just a few years prior and a critique of those who look away from their country’s current political conflict.
As Thomas and Erika arrive in Frankfurt to receive his first of two Goethe Prizes, it’s clear that she is far more than just his travel companion. She works as his translator at press conferences, intercepts mail with poisonous rhetoric, helps edit his speeches, and acts as his chauffeur. Erika Mann had a fascinating career as a successful writer, war correspondent, and even an actress, and viewers familiar with her history may wonder why her story isn’t more fleshed out in the script. However, Pawlikowski wisely avoids typical biopic clichés and, instead of biting off more than he can chew narratively, he centers this complex father-daughter relationship and the distinct post-war responses of the two sides of Germany. It’s here that he also gives Hüller the opportunity to subtly fill in the blanks, giving viewers unfamiliar with Erika Mann a rich portrait of the woman she’s portraying. Hüller is divine in the film, conveying a quiet, simmering rage like a kettle just about to whistle. Some of her strongest moments come in phone conversations, where Pawlikowski always keeps the camera on her, letting us in on everything that she is openly feeling and withholding. It’s some of the most compelling “on-the-phone” acting since Robert Redford in All the President’s Men. One of Erika’s most devastating moments comes with the gutting news of Klaus’ suicide. While it’s at first unclear why Pawlikowski chooses to open the film on Klaus, it slowly becomes apparent that his presence and life’s struggles are the skeleton key to understanding the film’s themes. In one of Fatherland’s most beautiful moments, Erika thinks she sees her brother up in a balcony before his death. He’s framed like a heavenly fixture in a Powell & Pressburger movie, giving his sister a sign of comfort as she navigates this murky period away from home with their father. The need for home and belonging that Klaus felt in life now permeates into Thomas and Erika’s journey.
Thomas pushes Klaus’ suicide to the back of his mind as he and Erika make their way from Frankfurt to Weimar in East Germany, where he’ll visit the home of his literary hero, Goethe. Zischler’s take on Thomas Mann is a stunning portrayal of public performance and repression. From the way he elegantly commands the room alongside Erika to the way he dresses down the grandsons of Wagner for their connections to the Nazis, he isn’t just a venerable paragon of intellectualism, but a familiar figure with a silver tongue that can inspire Germany towards a new future. Perhaps it’s that dedication (and his estrangement from Klaus) that keeps him from letting his emotions come to the surface as Erika does. There is a quiet beauty to his performance that evokes the work of Swedish legend Victor Sjöström as he contemplates his past in Wild Strawberries, but for Pawlikowski and Zischler, Mann isn’t simply contemplating the past as he did in “Doctor Faustus.” He’s also fixated on his legacy and the future of his homeland. This is especially apparent when he visits the home where Goethe died and gazes upon a cast of the face and hands of a man who died over 100 years ago. The subtle glint in his eye then matches the one we see in a haunting dream sequence with Klaus, brilliantly communicating the things he keeps turning over in his mind.
Much like Ida and Cold War, Pawlikowski addresses the need for home amidst the shifting societal attitudes and the fallout of war. When thinking of the scope of Cold War, specifically, it would be easy to dismiss Fatherland as a bit slight given its narrative focus and breezy runtime. And yet, this film feels bold in its ideas and in the way that its language connects with its subject. For generations of Germans, the story of Faust represented a symbol of pride and progress, and Mann knew it was the perfect literary playground for exploring German Fascism. It’s ambitious, then, to show him looking inward, instead of at a character of his own construction. In one explosive conversation, Erika confronts him about his narcissism, telling him that he “built a castle of words to hide in.” Thomas certainly clings to aspects of the past, with his abstract speeches of Germany’s legacy. Pawlikowski furthers this by incorporating a creative parade of historical figures and a wide array of styles of German music. In 1949, that old paradigm is no more, though, with two versions of the country emerging. While one believes in pursuing a utopian version, the other swears they had nothing to do with the atrocities of the past. While Fatherland focuses on a specific period in German history, it’s impossible not to project the dangers of the past onto the present moment. Thomas believes that art and poetry can transcend this, yet the tunnel vision of both parties makes it feel impossible. And yet, as Bach plays and the film reaches its final emotional crescendo, it’s impossible not to believe him.
Grade: A-
This review is from the 2026 Cannes Film Festival where Fatherland had its world premiere In Competition.
- Fatherland Review: Sandra Hüller and Hanns Zischler are Sensational in Paweł Pawlikowski’s Transcendent Chamber Piece [A-] Cannes - May 16, 2026
- ‘Mother Mary’ Review: Anne Hathaway and Michaela Coel See Red in David Lowery’s Dramaturgy of Pop Divinity [A-] - April 14, 2026
- The 79th Cannes Film Festival Lineup is Here, With A Strong Global Slate of Films from Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Cristian Mungiu, Jane Schoenbrun, and More - April 9, 2026
Fatherland Review: Sandra Hüller and Hanns Zischler are Sensational in Paweł Pawlikowski’s Transcendent Chamber Piece [A-] Cannes 
‘The Diary of a Chambermaid’ Review: Radu Jude Dissects Bourgeois Rot Through Formal Mischief and Corrosive Irony [A] Cannes 
Claire Danes to Receive TV Performer Tribute from Gotham Film & Media Institute 
Director Watch Podcast Ep. 154 – ‘Insomnia’ (Christopher Nolan, 2002) with Special Guest Christina Jeurling Birro