Sophie Scholl was a prominent member of the White Rose, a non-violent resistance movement in Nazi Germany. She was convicted of treason after distributing anti-war leaflets at the University of Munich with her brother Hans, and both they and their compatriot Christophe Probst were executed by guillotine. In the years since the Second World War, Sophie Scholl has been celebrated as one of the great German heroes who actively opposed the Third Reich, a symbol of moral courage and intellectual defiance against fascist dictatorship.
Marc Rothermund’s film concentrates on the last four days of her life. It opens with Sophie (Julia Jentsch) and a friend singing along to a jazz record, immediately establishing her as a vibrant, modern, young woman – a tone that extends to the film as a whole. Rothermund’s compelling direction suggests Sophie could almost be any idealistic young student, in any era. The movie crackles with tension as Sophie and Hans (Fabian Hinrichs) distribute leaflets, anonymously throughout the campus. Sophie’s impulsive decision to scatter leaflets from the balcony illustrates that, while she may not have authored the articles, her idealistic fervour was crucial. The authorities take action with terrifying swiftness; thereafter the film becomes a two-hander between Sophie and her interrogator Robert Mohr (Gerald Alexander Held). Hawk-like Mohr masks his fascist paranoia behind National Socialist propaganda, while Scholl remains controlled, rational, patient, like a mother explaining to a petulant child. Even whilst facing conviction, Sophie draws Mohr into a debate. She counters his Nazi platitudes with revelations of war crimes, extermination camps, and murders of mentally ill children that leave Mohr visibly shaken.
The decision to focus on Scholl’s final days appears to be screenwriter Fred Breinersdorfer’s attempt to sharpen the interrogation into an ideological debate. The result is admittedly talky, but exceptionally well played by the gifted Julia Jentsch and Gerald Alexander Held, and appropriately claustrophobic. Nonetheless, it’s a shame this isn’t a complete biography. Seeing Sophie Scholl’s childhood days in the League of German Girls, her gradual disillusionment with Nazism, and growing interest in theology and the arts would lend weight to her final struggle. The courtroom scenes are impassioned and involving as Sophie faces down the contemptible Judge Roland Freisler (Andre Hennike) – a former communist eager regain Hitler’s favour – and earns grudging admiration from a room full of cowards. Though the film risks becoming a hagiography, Jentsch shows the quiet moments, away from the interrogation room, where Sophie breaks down. Yet she refuses to show weakness in front of Mohr, a resolve the film could have explored further, even though she remains an important, iconic figure. As Sophie faces the guillotine, her last words are stirringly idealistic and inspirational: “The sun still shines.”
