With a powdered pallor of crematorium ashes on his face, Géza Röhrig's near wordless, jerky mannerisms as Saul recall an actor in the Nazi-era battleground of silent films. His strained maneuverings around the death factory nearly work as commentary on both the alienation and annihilation of labor, as if Chaplin's "Modern Times" got spliced into the middle of "The Great Dictator." The intention, though, is unclear and for the most part, Nemes doesn't seem interested in anything beyond visceral immediacy. That said, another debate, over whether Jewish resistance was limited due to excessive, historic passivity or if spiritual engagement, among other unarmed communal activities done in secret, should count for defying attempts at systematic dehumanization, can be read into the proceedings as well. While the denouement almost approaches midrashic parable, Cynthia Ozick's "The Shawl" this is not. What's hard to glean is whether Saul's self-destructive, one-note mission to give his child a proper Jewish burial is meant as moral affirmation amidst amoral dehumanization or an existential irony born of Jewish loss of faith after the camps. If the former, it seems unwise in its dichotomy. If the latter, unfair in its judgement. And without enlightening the audience further on the implications of either, it just feels like insult to injury.