‘Nuremberg’ Review

Gripping, flawed, and vital, ‘Nuremberg’ makes you confront evil as human and accountability as urgent.

Nuremberg (2025). Courtesy Sony Pictures Classics

James Vanderbilt’s film is not flawless, but it is compelling, timely, and thought-provoking, leaving viewers thinking about accountability long after the credits roll. At its core, the story explores ethical dilemmas, psychological complexity, and the enduring relevance of historical atrocity. While uneven in execution and occasionally burdened by quippy dialogue, the performances and historical significance make the film worth watching.

The narrative follows American psychiatrist Douglas Kelley, played by Rami Malek, who is tasked with determining whether captured members of the Nazi high command are fit to stand trial. Central to this mission is Hermann Göring, Hitler’s right-hand man, portrayed with a mix of charisma and menace by Russell Crowe. Their interactions form the psychological heart of the film, a tug-of-war between intellect and ego, complemented by courtroom sequences depicting the International Military Tribunal in Nuremberg. Michael Shannon is compelling as American prosecutor Robert H. Jackson, and Richard E. Grant brings gravitas as British prosecutor Sir David Maxwell-Fyfe.

What stands out in Nuremberg is its willingness to confront the humanity of its villains. Göring is not mythicized; he is a man whose charm, narcissism, and cruelty enabled mass atrocities. The film underscores that these traits, ambition, ideology, and the pursuit of power, are not confined to history but remain present in the world today, making its lessons uncomfortably relevant. This humanization recalls films like Downfall, but without excusing or romanticizing Göring’s crimes.

Yet the first half of the film struggles with tone and pacing. Vanderbilt leans on cinematic clichés, with characters delivering revelations in torrential rain, and dialogue that often feels modern and incongruous with the gravity of the events. Early scenes between Crowe and Malek are conceptually strong but uneven in execution. Malek is grounded and thoughtful, but his chemistry with Crowe fluctuates. A moment where Kelley attempts to teach Göring a magic trick, intended to reveal character dynamics, lands awkwardly, undercutting tension. Even so, Crowe’s commanding presence makes these scenes impossible to ignore; his portrayal of Göring is arguably the strongest performance of his recent career, blending menace, charisma, and subtle arrogance.

Where Nuremberg excels is in the courtroom sequences. The trial scenes are gripping, with the scale and stakes of the proceedings communicated effectively. Archival footage of concentration camps is interwoven with testimony, grounding the drama in historical reality. Michael Shannon shines here, delivering courtroom exchanges that feel more immediate and tense than the earlier private interactions. Vanderbilt’s direction finds focus, and while the script occasionally leaps over exposition, the final act is compelling and resonant.

The film’s exploration of ethical questions and the psychology of evil is its strongest asset. Kelley’s mission extends beyond assessing competency; he seeks to understand what makes a man capable of unimaginable crimes. The film emphasizes that the capacity for evil is not tied to nationality or ideology. A monologue in the latter half crystallizes this theme: people capable of such acts exist everywhere, and vigilance is always required. These philosophical stakes elevate the film beyond standard historical drama.

That said, Nuremberg is uneven. Forced humor, quips, and overly cinematic flourishes undercut tension in places. Some subplots, such as a journalist’s involvement, add little to the narrative and feel forgettable. Characters occasionally serve more as historical exposition than fully realized individuals. Vanderbilt’s direction is competent but rarely inspired; however, cinematography and production design are excellent, recreating postwar Germany with meticulous attention to detail. At 148 minutes, the film occasionally feels longer than it should due to tonal inconsistencies.

Despite its flaws, Nuremberg is ambitious. It attempts to humanize Göring without eliciting sympathy, examine the ethical dilemmas of justice, and remind viewers of history’s ongoing relevance. Archival footage is used effectively to ground the story, and Vanderbilt demonstrates an understanding of tension, even if he sometimes succumbs to conventional storytelling. The film may not reach the heights of classics like Judgment at Nuremberg, but it offers a fresh perspective, particularly by focusing on the psychiatrist’s interactions with Göring. These moments humanize both perpetrator and adjudicator, showing the moral complexity of those tasked with judging humanity at its worst.

Performances carry the film. Crowe makes Göring compelling without excusing his actions, while Malek brings nuance to Kelley’s ethical struggle. Shannon adds steady weight to the courtroom drama. The archival material and trial sequences give the film historical grounding, and moments of genuine tension are frequent enough to maintain engagement despite the early unevenness. Vanderbilt’s film asks difficult questions: How do we confront evil? How do we administer justice responsibly? How easily can history’s patterns recur? These questions linger, making the viewing experience intellectually and emotionally engaging.

Nuremberg ultimately succeeds in relevance if not perfection. The film captures the moral complexity of its period and the psychological games played by both perpetrators and those charged with holding them accountable. The first half is clunky, and certain cinematic choices feel forced, but the latter half is gripping, and the performances consistently elevate the material. Vanderbilt’s work may not achieve greatness, but it achieves resonance, asking audiences to confront history, reflect on human nature, and recognize the continued importance of accountability.

In the end, there is a compelling film within Nuremberg. Its ambition occasionally exceeds its execution, but the psychological depth, courtroom tension, and thematic rigor make it essential viewing for those interested in the dark side of human nature and the extraordinary historical moment of the Nuremberg trials. The film lingers in the mind, reminding us that justice is never simple and that evil is not always obvious. While imperfect, it is vital, thought-provoking, and deeply relevant.

Nuremberg is now in Theaters.

Rahul Menon is a screenwriter, filmmaker, and film critic who swapped a career in software analysis for the world of movies—and hasn’t looked back since. He holds an M.S. in Film Production & Media Management from Southern Illinois University Edwardsville and an MFA in Television and Screenwriting from Stephens College, where he completed multiple pilots and features under the guidance of industry mentors. He has also written, directed, and edited award-winning short films, and co-wrote an Indian feature film that went on to receive national recognition. His work spans comedy, thriller, and mystery, often infused with diverse voices and immigrant perspectives drawn from his own experiences. Beyond writing, Rahul has worked as a Key Production Assistant and Assistant Editor on films, TV, music videos, and commercials, and he regularly covers festivals like Sundance, SXSW, and AFI as accredited press. He also serves as a festival programmer for various film festivals and writes screenplay coverage for festivals and film markets, in addition to running his own blog, Awards Circuit Insider, where he writes about the ever-chaotic world of cinema and awards season. When he’s not writing or watching films (sometimes both at once), Rahul can usually be found debating movie scores, plotting comedy mysteries, or sneaking in a Letterboxd review. You can find him on Instagram @rahulmenonfilms, Letterboxd @rahulmenon, and his blog Awards Circuit Insider.