The most despised beings who ever walked in the flesh are the Lord Jesus Christ and Adolf Hitler. I make no reference to the “usual suspects” (guess who?), but to the whole pack of mean-men who would hate both the divine and the evil with equal venom.

Last week at the superb Garman Theatre in Bellefonte, Pa. one of the most magnificent movies of all-time played: Downfall, a German language film which portrays the last five days in the life of Adolf Hitler. Down in the bunker, Hitler is surrounded by his nearest and dearest which, I’m sorry to say, puts me in mind of the old punk song, Even Hitler Had a Girlfriend (… why don’t I …)?

In this gotterdammerung we see every trait and emotion known to humankind: bad, and yes … good.

How many films have been made about Hitler? Hundreds? A thousand? Like Woody Allen send-ups, every great and not so great actor eventually gets his chance to play Hitler. Yet even the greatest – say, like Alec Guinness – have been miserable failures. Why? Because the director never has the guts to portray him as a human being, but rather a mechanical stick: brilliant artists making dumb artistic mistakes for fear of being blacklisted. This is not to say the Fuhrer was a nice guy; a regular fellow after all. But even the golem - or Wagner and Whale’s worst beasts - were capable of small gestures and kindness, along with courage and valor.

At the end, when all was lost, the Fuhrer was besieged with telegrams from every Islamic country to come and take refuge with them. Even back then the Islamo-fascists were remarkable swine, as they remain to date. Hitler could have taken this ticket to ride – but not on your life would he take the Islamo-coward way out.

And has anyone given a thought lately to how we bombed Germany into a parking lot, but we can’t put a pair of panties from Victoria’s Secret on an Islamo-fascist’s head without being crucified? Poor babies!

*****

Veteran actor Bruno Ganz plays the Fuhrer. In case you don’t know, this guy played in gobs of Fassbinder movies in the ‘70’s, the second golden age of German cinema. You might know him best from Wim Wenders Wings of Desire. The artistic task and genius of director Oliver Hirschbiegel and screenwriter Brend Eichinger (as well as Ganz) can’t be emphasized enough. These three somehow got hold of a half-hour of odd Hitler footage in which the Fuhrer was just relaxing in an easy chair, shooting the breeze with his cronies – no strategies, no tactics, no anti-Semitism --- just drinking a few Jagermeisters and maybe talking about the Red Sox and Yanks, the Runaway Bride, or the latest development in the Jocko Jackson trial.

Will Downfall get best foreign language film? No. Will Bruno Ganz get best actor in the Academy Awards? Of course not. Even an aesthete like myself must agree that some protocols transcend artistic achievement. But these great men created a real acting job conveying a flesh-and-blood Hitler and not just another gutless, idiotic parody.

The first sequence sets the tone. A gaggle of German women are ushered into Hitler’s somberly-lit bunker to audition for the Furhrer’s secretary. The chatter dies down to dead silence as we wait (and wait) for “the Great One” to come through the door. Ganz (a Swiss) is not playing Hitler, but he is Hitler: meaty, haggard face, like a sad dying dog. But with the height of civility he greets each terrified fraulein. One is chosen to come-hither for the typing test, and she is so nervous she uses the wrong key rows and it all comes out gobble-gook. Hitler looks over her shoulder, smiles, and says, “I think we better start again” … a small gesture as it may have been described by Proust or Flaubert. This humble middle-class woman becomes his life-long friend and biographer.

The whole rat pack come and go: Himmler, Goering, and Goebbels pouring over street maps of Berlin, still hell-bent on winning as the Ruskies run amok above-ground. As always it’s the young who fight to the end, disobeying their parents and taking out enemy tanks with their self-made bombs.

From time to time the bombing abates and Hitler, Eva, and the ladies can take a little walk in the sunshine with Blondi the dog. But back down in the bunker all is gnashing of teeth. But they still have good dinners, with the Fuhrer shoveling it in.

But dissension grows daily, and here we see the maniacal schpritzing Fuhrer of the newsreel speeches lashing out at the world as we’re treated to a fresh suicide every day --- not for hatred of the Fuhrer, but to his honor! Not even Blondi, the Fuhrer’s beloved dog, is spared as it dutifully takes a cap of cyanide.

Then there’s the party crowd, B-list cadre assigned to the first level, drinking the stock beverage like there’s no tomorrow: topless women riding piggy-back while wearing officer’s hats in an ear-splitting dance of death.

Finally the marriage/suicide of Adolf and Eva, before which Hitler, with the utmost caring and kindness, thanks his faithful staff one-by-one.

At this point the Furher is dead, and it’s everyone for himself. Some run, but most are suicides.

But no account of this evil story would be complete without the charming couple, Herr von Goebbels and the vivacious Mrs. Goebbels. Excuse the modern cliché, but here was a real piece-of-work. What a double date they’d make! The Goebbels were special: when the Fuhrer shouted, “Clear the room,” this never included Herr von Goebbels. Plus, there were twelve Goebbels: blonde-haired and blue-eyed toddlers. (When their terrible God said, “Go forth and multiply,” they really took him at his word!) But the diabolical swan, la Goebbels, poisoned all of them to death so they wouldn’t have to live in a world without the Nazi way of life in power.

And even though this tidbit stands outside of the film, actor Bruno Ganz said on several days near the end of the shooting that he had to be sent home because he couldn’t stop crying.

As with all great movies, they play for a week at your mall or art house and then they’re gone. And you must hope they’re even issued on DVD. If you miss this one you’ll miss the greatest presentation on stage or screen of the “Twilight of the Gods,” the magnificent Downfall.