Unsettling humanity: Göring’s portrait and the lessons of the Nuremberg trials
The Nuremberg trials, conducted in the wake of World War II, cast a long shadow over how the world understood responsibility for atrocity. Among the defendants, Hermann Göring—the Nazi regime’s second-in-command—stood out not only for his political power but for the chilling ambiguity some observers found in his demeanor. Recent conversations with filmmaker James Vanderbilt and actors Rami Malek and Michael Shannon, who have engaged with Göring’s story in new ways, offer a window into how contemporary storytellers approach these historical figures.
Göring’s image has always been a paradox: a man capable of grand, ceremonial leadership and, critics argued, of calculating, personal manipulation. The interviews reveal a public fascination with the idea that a regime’s architect could be both charismatic and terrifying. The discussion moves beyond a simple villain portrait to explore a more nuanced question: where does power end and humanity begin? This is a central tension in any attempt to depict Göring on screen, on stage, or in documentary interviews, and it foregrounds the deliberations that go into rendering such a figure responsibly for modern audiences.
The unseen adviser: Douglas Kelley’s meticulous interrogation
Less widely discussed but profoundly influential was the role of US psychiatrist Douglas Kelley, who spent more than 80 hours interviewing Göring and other defendants. Kelley’s clinical observations shaped, in part, how the world read these men in the aftermath of their crimes. The interviews illuminate a critical fact about the Nuremberg proceedings: the line between moral judgment and psychological analysis mattered as much as legal verdicts. Kelley’s insights helped frame not only what the defendants believed or concealed, but how their affect and rhetorical strategies affected the judges and observers watching from around the globe.
In conversations with James Vanderbilt, the project’s creative minds emphasize that Kelley’s perspective—part clinician, part witness—was essential in documenting the human texture of a courtroom that would redefine justice. The complexity is in how Kelley balanced professional detachment with the gravity of the charges, a balance that becomes a dramatic fulcrum in any retelling. Malek’s portrayal of Kelley and Shannon’s comments about the courtroom atmosphere underscore a shared aim: to show that the cost of war justice is never purely procedural; it is deeply personal.
Performance science: Rami Malek and Michael Shannon on portraying polarities
Rami Malek’s approach to Kelley is often described as patient and precise, mirroring the clinician’s careful assessments. His craft invites the audience to consider not merely what Göring did, but what Kelley’s professional curiosity revealed about the minds trained to rationalize atrocities. Michael Shannon’s interpretations tend to skew toward the moral gravity that defines a courtroom at a turning point in history. Both actors, in concert with Vanderbilt’s direction, insist that the trials are not just a record of crimes but a study of how people confronted the consequences of collective wrongdoing.
These performances also raise timely questions about accountability. If Göring could discuss regime goals with unsettling poise, what does that tell us about the psychology of power? If a psychiatrist could glean truths under pressure, what responsibilities do modern viewers and jurists bear when confronted with controversial, even dangerous, forms of self-deception? The conversations around the project suggest a cultural imperative to grapple with these questions rather than sanitize them for entertainment.
Why this story matters today
As societies continue to confront the legacies of authoritarianism, the Nuremberg trials remain a critical reference point for how law, medicine, ethics, and media intersect in the pursuit of justice. The collaboration among Vanderbilt, Malek, and Shannon—framed by a careful examination of Göring and Kelley—offers a template for telling complex historical stories with empathy and rigor. The aim is not to sensationalize but to illuminate the stubborn truths that emerge when power, persuasion, and guilt converge in a courtroom that changed the world.
For readers and viewers, the deeper takeaway is clear: understanding the past requires more than naming names. It requires interrogating the human factors—ambition, fear, rationalization, and remorse—that accompany even the most infamous chapters in history. The Nuremberg conversations remind us that the journey toward truth is often uncomfortable, but essential for a society that seeks accountability without forgetting the human cost of violence.
