Max

The subject of a storm of knee-jerk pre-release criticism for its alleged 'humanisation' of Adolf Hitler, Max is a historically inventive but compelling fictionalised imaging of the early post World War I period of the German dictator's life. Cusack plays Jewish art dealer Max Rothchild. A promising artist until he lost his arm in World War I, Max is the paradigm of the witty European Jewish sophisticate. His brash affability puts him in contact with a young artist called Adolf Hitler (Taylor), whose needy arrogance doesn't match his talent. Due to his own guilt about his bourgeois existence, Max feels sorry for Hitler and tries to befriend him ("You're a hard man to like, Hitler!") Perhaps Max can even nurture whatever talent Hitler has, before he is completely seduced by the reactionary politics of the emerging far right.

Max doesn't attempt to portray Hitler in anything resembling a favourable light; yes, it speculates on the development of this monster but it's more interested in the fictional character of Max. At best, Max's Hitler is a pathetic, churlish, albeit charismatic, creature - whom Taylor plays brilliantly, never allowing things to slide into caricature. More provocative are the speculations concerning the arch of Hitler's life, art and society. There's nothing deliberately odious about Max, as it seeks to offer suggestions - some plausible, some outlandish andndash; about the nature of fate and destiny. Cusack replenishes his usual good humour and sincerity, but doesn't register the seismic impact which the film desperately requires. Indeed, Max is a film which asks confrontational questions but doesn't seem to have any of the answers.