Latest news with #SS
Los Angeles Times
15-06-2025
- Sport
- Los Angeles Times
The Times' final top 25 high school baseball rankings for 2025
A look at the top 25 high school baseball teams in the Southland by The Times after the 2025 playoffs. Rk. School (Rec.); Comment; previous ranking 1. ST. JOHN BOSCO (30-4) SS Division 1 champion; Regional Division I champion; 4 2. CORONA (28-3); SS Division 1 semifinalist; 1 3. SANTA MARGARITA (20-14); SS Division 1 finalist; Regional Division 1 first round; 18 4. CRESPI (25-3); SS Division 1 semifinalist; Regional Division I semifinalist; 2 5. HUNTINGTON BEACH (24-5); SS Division 1 first round; 3 6. VILLA PARK (25-8); SS Division 1 semifinalist; Regional Division I semifinalist; 11 7. LOS ALAMITOS (19-10-2); SS Division 1 quarterfinalist; 19 8. MIRA COSTA (28-3); SS Division 1 quarterfinalist; 16 9. NORCO (22-9); SS Division 1 quarterfinalist; 13 10. ORANGE LUTHERAN (23-7); SS Division 1 second round; 6 11. WEST RANCH (25-9); SS Division 2 champion; NR 12. AQUINAS (25-3); SS Division 1 second round; 5 13. VISTA MURRIETA (23-6-1); SS Division 1 second round; 14 14. EL DORADO (21-9); SS Division 1 second round; 15 15. NEWPORT HARBOR (22-7); SS Division 1 first round; 12 16. LA MIRADA (21-7); SS Division 1 first round; 8 17. HARVARD-WESTLAKE (19-10); SS Division 1 first round; 7 18. ARCADIA (26-4); SS Division 1 second round; 17 19. LAGUNA BEACH (25-4); SS Division 1 second round; NR 20. MATER DEI (19-15); SS Division 2 runner-up; Regional DI first round; NR 21. SUMMIT (25-4); SS Division 1 first round; 10 22. LOS OSOS (20-9); SS Division 1 second round; 22 23. SERVITE (17-14); SS Division 2 quarterfinalist; 20 24. CYPRESS (18-11); SS Division 1 first round; 9 25. BISHOP AMAT (22-7); SS Division 1 first round; 25
Telegraph
14-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Historians mocked Frederick Forsyth's The Odessa File – but it may have helped catch a Nazi
The death of the novelist, bon viveur and (by his own admission) long-standing MI6 informant, Frederick Forsyth has brought sorrow to the millions of readers who knew that his books were page-turners par excellence. He never pretended to be a great literary stylist, and readily admitted that his primary motivation for writing was financial rather than artistic, but his journalistic attention to detail, ability to come up with complex yet entirely comprehensible storylines and brisk, exciting plotting meant that a Frederick Forsyth book would grip from the first page to the last. The novel which he is best known for is his debut, 1971's excellent The Day of the Jackal, and few would minimise the impact that it had upon his career. Yet it is his follow-up, 1972's The Odessa File, which led to its own, more consequential tale. It revolves around the young German freelance journalist Peter Miller who, nearly two decades after the end of WWII, investigates the workings of a mysterious organisation known by the acronym 'ODESSA', which stands for 'Organisation der ehemaligen SS-Angehörigen' – otherwise 'Organisation of Former Members of the SS'. (Forsyth's writing cannot be described as subtle, but it's undeniably effective.) Over the course of its three hundred-odd pages, Miller finds himself being pursued by hitmen hired by the former SS officers, as he goes in search of its members, and attempts to discover what their nefarious plans are. Just as The Day of the Jackal blended fact – derived from Forsyth's time as a BBC journalist – and fiction to convincing effect, so the success of The Odessa File lies in Forsyth's ability to take an apparently outlandish conceit and make it seem believable. The initial idea for the book came from a Sunday Times article written in July 1967 by the journalist Antony Terry. The piece published a series of unreliable, at times simply false, rumours and stories about escaped Nazis, largely put about by the Holocaust survivor-turned-Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal. It was common knowledge that several high-ranking Nazis, most notably Adolf Eichmann, had fled to Argentina after the conclusion of WWII, and that some Germans of dubious loyalty had also remained in their home country; others headed over to the United States in order to work on the then-nascent space programme. Wiesenthal was fed inaccurate information – which he then passed over to Terry – by Wilhelm Höttl, a Nazi turned American counter-intelligence agent. Höttl claimed that 'Odessa' – in reality an informal codeword used by small, semi-independent groups of former SS men to identify themselves to one another – was in fact a carefully organised conspiracy with worldwide reach, which was responsible for the expatriation of leading Nazis to South America. Höttl was a highly unreliable witness whose primary interests were saving his own skin and appropriating wealth in the process – he had ensured that he had access to many of the Swiss bank accounts that the desperate Germans were placing their money in towards the end of WWII. But it suited Wiesenthal's agenda as a self-styled Nazi hunter to further a narrative of all-powerful SS men at large, including Eichmann and Hitler's private secretary Martin Bormann. Eichmann was eventually captured in Argentina, taken to Israel and executed in 1962. Bormann – who, in reality, had committed suicide in Germany in 1945, a fact only discovered in 1973 – was supposed to be at large somewhere in the world, carrying on the Führer's nefarious plans and dreaming of creating a Fourth Reich. Terry's Sunday Times article suggested, with no credible evidence whatsoever, that Odessa had managed not only to extract Bormann from Germany, but that it was an all-powerful organisation with anti-Israeli intentions, intent on destroying the newly formed state. Terry's article may have been largely fantastical, parlaying small nuggets of truth into a largely imagined story. But it drew Forsyth's attention and led to his using it as the basis for his second novel, which came swiftly after the enormous success of The Day of the Jackal. It is testament to how quickly publishing moved (and Forsyth wrote) in the early Seventies that the book first appeared in October 1972; a mere 16 months after Jackal's initial appearance in Britain. He had written Jackal in 35 days, and although Odessa was not produced in quite such a rush, demand for a new book meant that it was fast-tracked by the eager publishers. Forsyth's journalistic instincts and ability to tell a ripping yarn are on full display throughout the novel, from the incorporation of real-life characters (including Wiesenthal, who acted as an informal adviser and is therefore portrayed as a flattering mixture of Sherlock Holmes and Oskar Schindler) to the carefully worked-out German setting. It begins in 1963, shortly after JFK's assassination, which gives it the slightest air of distance from the events depicted but nonetheless keeps it supposedly realistic. And there are brilliantly observed suspenseful moments that have the same air of verisimilitude as many of the events in Jackal. Miller escapes assassination by car bomb, for instance, because the hitman's explosives are defeated by his Jaguar XK150's particularly tight suspension. Nazis have always made for effective villains, and the antagonists in The Odessa File are no exception. The principal baddie Eduard Roschmann, the 'Butcher of Riga' – so called because he was the commandant of the notorious Riga Ghetto during 1943 – is shown in an appropriately nefarious light. At the time that the book was written, Roschmann was in hiding in Argentina, having become a naturalised citizen under the pseudonym 'Frederico Wagner' – the surname perhaps a nod to Hitler's favourite composer – and Forsyth's portrayal of him was heavily laden with dramatic licence. Although his current hiding place was not then known, Eichmann's high-profile apprehension the decade before had suggested that Nazis were drawn to the anonymity of South America: accurately, in this case. Many of the fictitious Roschmann's traits and actions are, of course, pure invention – for instance, he is said to answer to SS general Richard Glücks, who died in 1945, and his passport is supposedly procured by Odessa, who were not capable of such intricate acts of forgery. But it was still an act of relative daring to use a real-life, and presumably very much alive, mass murderer as the antagonist, although a man who was on the run for crimes against humanity was hardly likely to pop up and sue for libel. Although the novel has been described as inaccurate, others have lauded it for sticking relatively close to known facts. 'We cannot blame Forsyth for being inaccurate,' the historian Matteo San Filippo said. 'He was writing a thriller, not an historical essay. The incidents were based on fact and the overall impression was not inaccurate.' Certainly, it was marketed as fiction, albeit of the sophisticated variety. The first edition blurb read, 'Many characters in The Odessa File are real people. Others may puzzle the reader as to whether they are true or fictional, and the publishers do not wish to elucidate further because it is in this ability to perplex the reader that much of the grip of the story lies.' It soon proved a big hit when it was published in October, and, like its predecessor, sold in its millions. It has remained consistently in print ever since it was published, and, after Jackal and perhaps the Fourth Protocol, remains Forsyth's best-known novel. However, it received mixed reviews, with some finding it a let-down after Jackal and others praising it as a fresh masterpiece by the thrilling new talent. The Guardian announced that 'in Forsyth's hands the 'documentary thriller' had assumed its most sophisticated form'. But the New York Times, in a scathing review entitled 'Live bombs and dud people', took issue with the publisher's hints that the novel was based on never-before-revealed sources. Its critic Richard P Brickner stated that the 'book's absorbing facts, made livelier for a while by their moral urgency, will probably sour in your mouth as the moral urgency becomes discoloured'; it went on to criticise the protagonist Miller as colourless, the novel as more concerned with sensation than accuracy and, most damningly, wrote that Forsyth had created a 'vulgar stew of hideous documented fact and flimsy melodrama'. Brickner concluded, 'The Odessa File leaves one feeling that Forsyth has borrowed painful, live history in order to spring a few quick thrills.' This may have been unfair, but the book's huge commercial success led to the film rights being purchased swiftly and an adaptation going into production almost immediately after it was published. It was directed by veteran British filmmaker Ronald Neame, who had had a significant success with 1972's The Poseidon Adventure, and starred Jon Voight, recently Oscar-nominated for his breakthrough role in Midnight Cowboy. It did not enjoy either the same critical or commercial success as the 1973 adaptation of The Day of the Jackal, though – the New York Times continued its vendetta by remarking that it was largely devoid of suspense, and that 'these Nazis don't have as much fun as those in The Night Porter'. But it did have one unexpected and welcome legacy. Roschmann was played in the film by the Oscar-winning Swiss actor Maximilian Schell, one of the country's biggest post-war stars. Flattering casting, perhaps; certainly enough to make a vain man want to see it. Forsyth told the Daily Telegraph in 2011 that the picture indirectly led to the real-life Roschmann's exposure. 'They made [the novel] into a film, which was screened in a little fleapit cinema south of Buenos Aires, where a man stood up and said, 'I know that man, he lives down the street from me,' and denounced him. [The suspect] decided to make a run for it to Paraguay and died of a heart attack on the river crossing. They buried him in an unmarked gravel pit. I hope they tossed a copy of the book on top of him.' As often with Forsyth, there is a slight element of letting a good story overwhelm the facts – Roschmann died in Paraguay on August 8 1977, several years after the picture opened, rather than in the midst of a dramatic flight. But nonetheless, the renewed attention directed towards him made him a marked man and ensured that he died a hunted fugitive rather than a complacent Argentine citizen. The Odessa File remains one of Forsyth's most-loved novels, and continues to captivate readers long after its publication. It was announced late last year that he had written a belated sequel, co-written with the novelist Tony Kent, entitled Revenge of Odessa. While no claims are being made for its torn-from-the-headlines qualities this time round, the publisher's blurb makes the book sound like a suitably gripping yarn. Set in both Germany and the United States, the novel revolves around Miller's grandson Georg (a 'journalist and podcaster', we learn) investigating a series of apparently unconnected atrocities that make him the target for hitmen. This is, naturally, because he discovers that 'his would-be assassins are from an organisation known as the Odessa, a menacing and powerful Nazi group intent on regaining power.' As the cover screams, 'The Nazis were never defeated. They were just biding their time.' The book is published this October (assuming Forsyth managed to finish it) and, with luck, will prove both a fitting sequel and an appropriate swansong for its legendary author. Yet even if it is a disappointment, it should still retain its own fascination. Forsyth commented when the book was announced that 'While The Odessa File was a product of my imagination over 50 years ago, the political realities it describes are still very much with us.' The Nazis themselves may have largely vanished, but with Putin all-powerful in Russia, North Korea's nuclear capabilities and the still-uncertain agenda of China, the concept of a totalitarian state is still more than timely. After all, the Nazi antagonists of the Odessa movement may never have existed as such, but Forsyth knew villainy where he saw it. Come October, the great storyteller's final book should demonstrate his legendary talents, one last time.
The Star
13-06-2025
- Politics
- The Star
Ghosts beneath the gables
ONE January morning, Susanne Bucker, a family doctor in Berlin, awoke with a sense of dread. National elections loomed, and Elon Musk – billionaire, provocateur and previously US President Donald Trump's most vocal cheerleader – had begun publicly backing the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD), a party whose leaders have downplayed the Holocaust and dabbled in Nazi rhetoric. Bucker penned a letter to her neighbours. 'Tomorrow is the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz,' she wrote, expressing her fear that fascism was again taking root in Germany. Elmar Bessen and Caroline Frey in their house once belonging to a former SS doctor in Waldsiedlung Krumme Lanke, May 8, 2025. On the outskirts of Berlin, Waldsiedlung Krumme Lanke is an idyllic neighborhood with a sinister past, and a symbol of Germany's effort to both remember and forget. (Patrick Junker/The New York Times) That message sparked a quiet resistance. Within weeks, some 40 residents lit candles in their gardens as part of a nationwide 'chain of lights' against hate, hanging pro-democracy signs in their windows. 'I think we have a special responsibility,' said Bucker, 62, sipping tea in her living room. 'Because we live on an estate that was built by perpetrators, for perpetrators.' Her neighbourhood, Waldsiedlung Krumme Lanke – or 'Forest Estate' – is nestled in a leafy corner of southwest Berlin. Once designed as a picture-perfect 'Aryan' idyll, it now faces its Nazi past head-on. In Berlin's southwest, the forest settlement Waldsiedlung Krumme Lanke is idyllic and today, the dwellings, with steep A-frame roofs, wooden shutters, and tidy gardens are sought-after homes, beloved by their inhabitants. — Patrick Junker/The New York Times It's postcard pretty: peaked-roof cottages, wooden shutters, quiet paths and a thick forest shielding the homes from the outside world. In summer, a short stroll in flip-flops and a swimsuit leads straight to the lake. It looks idyllic. But dig deeper – literally – and its sinister roots surface. Waldsiedlung Krumme Lanke was built in the late 1930s as an 'elite community' for the SS, Hitler's paramilitary wing that orchestrated much of the Holocaust. Joachim, with his mother and older brother outside their house, has lived in Waldsiedlung Krumme Lanke since 1946; and (right) Joachim standing outside his house. — Patrick Junker/The New York Times Known then as the SS-Kameradschaftssiedlung (SS Camaraderie Estate), it housed some 600 dwellings, from small flats to cottages, assigned according to SS rank. It was a physical embodiment of the Nazis' 'blood and soil' ideology – their fantasy of Aryans living close to nature. The estate was built with war in mind: cellars doubled as bomb shelters, tree cover offered camouflage from Allied air raids. A sign at the entrance now reads: 'The peaceful atmosphere that the settlement, embedded in the landscape, conveys to the unbiased observer today makes it difficult to recall its history.' Yet that history still surfaces – like the swastika-stamped coins or household objects residents (or their dogs) occasionally dig up. 'The residents found ideal living conditions – an idyll,' said historian Matthias Donath. 'And at the same time, they planned monstrous crimes.' Donath's research recently revealed that one former resident, Joachim Caesar, went on to head agricultural operations at Auschwitz. For decades, post-war Germany simply didn't talk about places like this. 'One method of survival in a destroyed and morally devastated Germany was repression,' said Donath. That meant many residents didn't know what kind of ground they were living on – until a neighbour told them. 'Some people say, 'It's 80 years ago; it has nothing to do with me,'' said Susanne Guthler, 67, who moved in with her family in 2000. 'For me, it's the opposite. I want to know what happened, here in my house. It's intimidating to hear about families drowning themselves in the Krumme Lanke or hanging in the attic. But you can't move forward with silence.' As Soviet troops closed in during 1945, some SS families fled. Others, historians say, likely died by suicide. 'The SS estate was not a place to hide,' said historian Hanno Hochmuth. 'The soldiers may have opened the doors to find dead bodies – or floating in the Krumme Lanke lake.' After the war, the estate fell in the American sector of occupied Berlin. Vacant homes were given to resistance fighters, Jewish survivors and refugees. Michael Joachim, moved into his house in 1946 when he was 3 years old, in Waldsiedlung Krumme Lanke, May 8, 2025. On the outskirts of Berlin, Waldsiedlung Krumme Lanke is an idyllic neighborhood with a sinister past, and a symbol of Germany's effort to both remember and forget. (Patrick Junker/The New York Times) The houses, once designed to breed future Nazis, were suddenly teeming with the displaced. Street names were changed. New memories began forming. Gisela Michaelis moved in when she was five, in 1945, with her mother and siblings after fleeing the Red Army. Her father, a Wehrmacht soldier, never returned. Now 85, she still lives in the same 84-square-metre row house. 'There were endless children here,' she recalled. 'It was a beautiful childhood.' She and her friends would sneak kindling from the forest and play in the old cellars. But even after the war, not all the SS vanished. Some may have quietly returned. 'This was typical of post-war Germany,' said Hochmuth. 'Persecutors, bystanders and victims, all living door to door without too much struggle. There was a tendency to forget, to want to start over.' Michael Joachim, now 82, moved to the estate as a toddler in 1946. His father told stories of families who had taken their own lives as the war ended: 'That neighbour went into the Krumme Lanke with his whole family. That one hung himself in the attic.' He also remembered a quiet Jewish couple who lived where Bucker does now. 'Only later did I think, 'What kind of a fate must they have had?'' The estate's past began to resurface in the 1980s, when a grassroots 'Dig Where You Stand' movement encouraged locals to research their communities. One historian uncovered that the Nazi housing project had been funded not by the SS but by a semi-public housing firm called GAGFAH. Ingrid Fiedler, now 86, moved in during the 1980s – unaware of its origins, despite working for GAGFAH herself. One day, while cycling with her husband near the lake, a couple asked where the 'SS estate' was. 'The next day at work, my colleague said, 'Don't you know you live there?' That was news to me,' she said. Still, she stayed. 'I lived through the Hitler time. But if people keep voting this way, we're going to have it all again. I don't want that.' The estate was declared a protected historical site in 1992, recognised for its Nazi-era architecture. But attempts to reckon with its past continued to stall. Historian Karin Grimme said she couldn't find a single resident willing to be interviewed in the 1990s. In the 2000s, the estate was privatised. Old records, including tenant contracts, were likely lost or discarded. In summer, a short stroll in flip-flops and a swimsuit leads straight to the Krumme Lanke lake. It looks idyllic. But dig deeper – literally – and its sinister roots surface. — Patrick Junker/The New York Times Yet some buyers stumbled on the past anyway. When Elmar Bassen and Caroline Frey bought their home in 2011, the seller – a journalist – handed them a book titled Medicine Without Humanity and informed them that a war criminal had once lived there. Joachim Mrugowsky, former chief of the Waffen-SS's Hygiene Institute, was tried and executed in Nuremberg for conducting horrific medical experiments on concentration camp prisoners. 'At first, we thought, 'Can we do that? Can we move here?'' said Frey. 'It was like, 'Are the bricks evil?'' In the end, they stayed. 'Maybe our liberal worldview is just what this place needs,' said Frey. Their nine-year-old foster son plays in the garden. They hung anti-AfD signs in their windows ahead of the election. 'We want to remember,' Frey said. 'Because remembering this horrifying thing might help it not happen again.' — ©2025 The New York Times Company This article originally appeared in The New York Times
Yahoo
13-06-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Sen. Padilla and our diminishing democracy are violently slammed to the ground and cuffed by Trump's regime
Shocking. Horrifying. Disgusting. Astonishing. When Democratic U.S. Sen. Alex Padilla was thrown to the ground, handcuffed like a common criminal, and hauled out of a press conference held by the single most inexperienced Homeland Security Secretary in U.S. history, Kristi Noem, it wasn't just an attack on one man. It was an assault on our democracy and all that democracy underpins. Keep up with the latest in LGBTQ+ news and politics. Sign up for The Advocate's email newsletter. Also being pushed out of the way were civility, the rule of law, decency, and the essence of freedom. Padilla, California's duly elected senior senator, wasn't disrupting anything. He wasn't threatening. He wasn't doing anything remotely out of the ordinary. He was simply wanting to ask questions of the repulsive Noem. What he was doing was his job. He was doing his job. When he gave a statement after the incident, he reiterated that very fact. Padilla was peacefully and legally doing his job. He had every right to be at that press conference on behalf of the people of California. Who, like him, are demanding answers on why California is being ferociously targeted by the Trump administration. And for doing his job, he was tackled, humiliated, and forcibly removed from a public event by federal agents, which is essentially Trump's SS. They were alarmingly acting on behalf of an administration that treats dissent not as a democratic necessity, but as a threat to be eliminated. Watching the video is gut-wrenching. Padilla's body hits the ground. His arms are forced behind his back. His voice, which represents nearly 40 million Californians, is silenced by handcuffs and the arrogance of Noem and her henchmen. And standing there behind the podium, in the room where he was removed, was the loathsome Noem, who owes her position not to merit or experience, but to unwavering and putrid loyalty to Trump. That's how things work now. Loyalty, not law. Obedience, not oversight. Handcuffs, not questions. This moment, vile, inexcusable, and deeply un-American, did not happen in isolation. It is the latest link in a chain of democratic destruction Trump has been yanking tighter around this country's throat since January 20, 2025. From the moment he retook the oath of office, Donald Trump has waged war on the institutions that define American democracy. He didn't walk into office with a policy plan. He's too stupid for that. He came with a vendetta against American democracy. Within days, he gutted the Office of Government Ethics and stripped funding from the Civil Rights Division at the Department of Justice. Within weeks, ICE raids ramped up in cities across the country, indiscriminately tearing apart immigrant families and terrifying communities. That has prompted the very protests in Los Angeles that Trump has now answered, illegally, by sending in the Marines. It still hasn't sunk in yet. Marines. In an American city. Deployed not for natural disaster relief or national security, but to quell a domestic protest of their fellow American citizens. Troops with combat training are being sent to intimidate civilians exercising their constitutional rights. And in the process, Trump goads California Gov. Gavin Newsom into a political standoff, hoping to paint him as the villain in a drama Trump has written for one purpose, and that is to consolidate power, paint California and migrants as villains, and to crush opposition. And now? Now he's overseeing the body-slamming of U.S. senators. What, in God's name, is happening to us? What's happening is that Trump is horrifically showing us that no one is immune, not even elected officials, to his desire to be a dictator who militarizes American society . Padilla's removal wasn't just a grotesque abuse of power. It was a message. A warning. And maybe even more frightening, a test balloon. Because if he can rough up a U.S. senator, what's to stop him from doing it to a mayor? A governor? Another member of Congress? How about a former president of the United States? All bets are off. Frankly, we've already been seeing it in New Jersey, where Rep. Angela McIver was indicted on dubious federal charges after standing up to ICE abuses at a detention center. That same incident saw the mayor of Newark roughed up and arrested — he is suing. We've seen it again this week in California and New York, where elected officials who have oversight over ICE were denied access to detention centers as reports of mistreatment pour in. These aren't isolated incidents. The Trump administration has weaponized federal agencies to act as a domestic enforcement arm of his political will. These are not the checks and balances of a healthy democracy. Far from it. These are the foot soldiers of creeping authoritarianism. Newsom was right when he said, 'Democracy is under assault.' But it's gone further because the assault is now literal. We have crossed the line. Democracy is bleeding out, one institution at a time, one senator at a time, one protester at a time. And if we don't rise to meet this moment, if we pretend this is politics as usual, we will wake up in a country where the machinery of democracy ceases to exist. Voting, speech, dissent, all rendered meaningless by fear, force, and fealty to one horrible man. If you think for a minute that this is hyperbole, read up on the history of tyranny and rise of dictators. What Trump is doing is straight from that playbook, including attacking elected officials who dare to stand in his way. There is no middle ground anymore. Either we stand with Padilla, with Newsom, with every Californian and every American whose voice is being silenced, or we step aside and let democracy be crushed under the boots of Trump's Hitler-like SS. We're inching closer and closer to the edge. Will we look back someday and see that the pushing of Padilla around pushed us over that edge? Voices is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ community and its allies. Visit to learn more about submission guidelines. Views expressed in Voices stories are those of the guest writers, columnists, and editors, and do not directly represent the views of The Advocate or our parent company, equalpride.
Daily Record
13-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Record
Amazon Prime viewers 'in tears' after watching 'devastating' war film
The war film still has people talking years after its release Over 15 years since its release, the film continues to haunt audiences, with many describing it as "absolutely devastating". Asa Butterfield delivers a poignant performance as an eight year old boy in The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas, a film set amidst the terror of World War II. Adapted from John Boyne's novel, the narrative unfolds within Nazi-occupied Poland and confronts viewers with a deeply moving plot that often reduces them to tears. A critic on Rotten Tomatoes reflected: "Such a heartbreaking story about love, friendship, and the unimaginable horrors of the Holocaust. Other than Schindler's List, I've never sobbed so hard in my life." The 2008 film features the actor known for Netflix's Sex Education as young Bruno, whose life is uprooted when his father, an SS officer, gets a promotion that necessitates a move to Poland. During one of his explorations, Bruno discovers what he thinks is a farm behind his house, which is actually a concentration camp, leading his mother to forbid him from playing there. Defying his mother's orders, Bruno ventures into the woods where he encounters a barbed wire fence encircling the camp. On the other side, he meets Smuel, a boy his own age, sparking an unlikely friendship, reports the Express. Bruno starts visiting Smuel regularly, bringing him food across the fence, and soon realises that his new friend is a Jewish child who was taken to the camp along with his parents. A review gushes: "This movie had me in tears after knowing the plot of it. It breaks my heart seeing the plot twist of the story. "Seeing that Bruno was sorry and wanted to help Shmuel but ended up in a twisted fate, it awfully does break my heart. I'd definitely say this is a must watch movie if you badly want to cry." Another viewer commented: "The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is a masterpiece. Highly absorbing and moving film. It makes me cry every time I watch it. Absolutely love it. One of my all-time favourites. It is one of those movies that goes straight to the heart." However, since its premiere, numerous critics have condemned the film for its historical depiction, suggesting it could inadvertently foster sympathy for Holocaust perpetrators. A critical review states: "The story is exactly what comes out when a daydreaming, ignorant filmmaker tries to invent a cliché Holocaust drama in his own Hollywood bubble." It is important to recognise the significant role both the children's novel and the cinematic version have played in educating young people about the Holocaust. Holocaust education expert Michael Grey notes with interest that over three-quarters of British students (aged 13-14) engage more deeply with The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas compared to The Diary of Anne Frank. For those who are ready for an emotionally-charged viewing experience, The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas can be streamed on Amazon Prime.
