Morris code

Documentarian Errol Morris brings another disturbing subject to life in Mr. Death, the story of electric chair designer/repairman turned Holocaust denier Fred A. Leuchter, Jr.

By MATTHEW HAYS

With his latest film, Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A. Leuchter, Jr., Errol Morris has managed to outdo himself. And this is no small task, considering what this filmmaker--who has an obsession with the absurd--has come up with in previous projects.

 There was Gates of Heaven, a feature-length film about pet cemeteries, their proprietors and the people who pay to have their ex-pets buried there.

 Then there was The Thin Blue Line, in which Morris examined the case of a man convicted of murder and on death row--which led to the convict's complete acquittal after Morris disproved much of the evidence. And Stairway to Heaven, Morris's short film about an autistic woman who designs more humane animal slaughterhouses.

 Now here he is, pondering the bizarre paradoxes and ironies inherent in Mr. Death, one of the most provocative and compelling films of the past few years. It is receiving critical raves while also raising a host of questions about the way in which Morris treats the man who stands as the film's central figure, Fred A. Leuchter, Jr.

 For the record, Morris doesn't appear entirely conventional himself. With slightly crossed eyes, the director appears laid back--that is, until you start discussing documentary ethics or Holocaust denial, and he locks eyes with you. Suddenly, his pre-film life as scholar with a PhD in Philosophy emerges. While Morris's entirely unique take on his subjects may at times seem whimsical, it's clear he takes his films--and the ideas and themes he tackles--very seriously indeed.

 An electrifying subject
 Leuchter first came to Morris's attention in the form of a front-page New York Times story. The hook that dragged his name onto page one was part oddity, part human interest: Leuchter claimed to have a humane interest in fine-tuning electric chairs and other modes of capital punishment. If the killing could be conducted more quickly, the penalty would be more humane.

 Morris found the story, as well as a subsequent article about Leuchter in The Atlantic Monthly, suitably jarring. As an opponent of capital punishment, Morris found the idea of making the death penalty humane deliciously ludicrous.

 Morris says that one of his favourite lines in the film comes when Leuchter discusses the dangers involved for those who carry out electrocutions. In many cases, those who are electrocuted lose control of their bladders, leaving a puddle of urine on the floor. This could lead to a guard inadvertently being electrocuted himself. No one, Leuchter contends, should have to put their life in jeopardy just because someone's getting executed.

 But Leuchter's story took on an additional twist that qualified it as Morris bait (elements of the truly "surprising, the unexpected," as the filmmaker describes them). Since Leuchter had gained a reputation as an expert in various methods of destruction of human life, he was bankrolled by notorious Holocaust denier, German national and Toronto resident Ernst Zuendel to go to Auschwitz and Birkenau and assess the authenticity of historical claims surrounding the death camps.

 The road to Auschwitz
 After doing some pseudo-scientific analysis, Leuchter, who was accompanied by a video camera crew on his journey (footage is seen throughout Mr. Death), reveals his belief that the camps simply could not have been used to the extent historians have traditionally claimed (his research involved analyzing bits of the stone walls of the camps to identify precise levels of poison therein).

 His resulting tome, The Leuchter Report, was submitted as part of testimony in Zuendel's trial, but was promptly tossed out by the judge. But the report gained a new life among the Holocaust-denial revisionist historian community, whose members reprinted it, distributed it widely and posted it on the Net.

 Despite the double whammy of being both an electric-chair designer and an instrument of Holocaust deniers, Leuchter seems most surprising because of his demeanour. A shy, soft-spoken man, he seems gently geeky, sort of like the type you might see at a Star Trek convention, sans the uniform: a bit odd, but perfectly innocuous. However, his story takes on semi-tragic overtones: as his writings on the likelihood of the extent of the Holocaust became more widely known, he lost work as a death penalty consul-tant/electric chair designer and repairman. As his fortune diminished, his wife, a former Dunkin' Donuts employee he'd met while buying a coffee, left him (he'd honeymooned her in Auschwitz).

 As well, Leuchter the scientist is ridiculed; Morris interviews the lab technician who analyzed the samples for The Leuchter Report, neatly undermining all of the author's pseudo-scientific findings. But Morris also humanizes Leuchter, focusing on the details of his character oddities--among them, apparently consuming 40 cups of coffee a day. Ultimately, Leuchter evolves into the perfect Morris subject: a man we both deride and pity.

 Which has raised the film's central question. Is Leuchter evil, or is he a wide-eyed innocent being used by Zuendel and his ilk? Morris's ambiguous treatment of subjects remains intact with Mr. Death; we are left to draw our own conclusions about Leuchter.

 Even the filmmaker seems stumped when I pose the question. "You know, I can't really answer that, even to my own satisfaction. It's not that I'm trying to be coy or evasive--I just don't know. It is hard for me to believe that he could do this stuff as innocently as he planned. But on the other hand, it's hard for me to believe that he could do it under any circumstances."

 Deconstructing denial
 All that self-conscious ambiguity has led to a degree of hand-wringing by some critics and Holocaust scholars, who argue a man like Leuchter doesn't deserve this kind of attention. Some felt Morris might have been used by Leuchter, who, they suggested, may well have wanted a chance to present his case to the public.

 But Morris points out that he is both Jewish and a death-penalty opponent--hardly someone who could be mistaken for a Leni Riefenstahl-style apologist. (Leuchter reportedly had two questions for Morris when they discussed the prospect of doing the film: was he opposed to the death penalty and did he think the Holocaust occurred? Yes on both counts, Morris responded.)

 For Holocaust scholars, arguments surrounding Holocaust denial dredge up further daunting questions. Holocaust scholars often fall into two schools of thought: one suggests Holocaust deniers should simply be ignored, the attention given to them almost as harmful as the theories themselves; the other has it that all denial must be picked apart.

 Morris picked up an important ally when prominent Holocaust scholar (and author of Explaining Hitler) Ron Rosenbaum defended the film in The New York Observer in September, just as it was to premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival. Mr. Death didn't trumpet Leuchter's case, Rosenbaum argued, but rather "suggests that at a certain point even innocent stupidity becomes criminal, sinister, culpably evil. After Mr. Death, it will be impossible even for the criminally stupid to claim innocence again."

 Holocaust controversy aside, Mr. Death is a film that will undoubtedly please fans of Morris. It perfectly sums up his oeuvre, and is easily his most complex film yet. In fact, the moniker Mr. Death could well apply to the filmmaker himself. From pet cemeteries to death-row inmates, Morris has gained a reputation as an artist obsessed with mortality.

 Morris's third feature, The Thin Blue Line, gained notoriety as one of his most popular films. But in exposing the shoddy case against its central figure, the film directly led to the release of the convict from death row (the ex-con subsequently sued Morris, thinking the filmmaker had made oodles of money from the film's box office). Though Mr. Death fits into the scheme of the Morris code, here the director hasn't saved Leuchter from the death penalty. Instead, he's simply given the man enough rope to hang himself. :