Piotr Uklański, a New York based artist, has put together a most surprising and at the same time simple series of pictures. With them he has created an art book consisting of 160 portraits of movie actors playing Nazis. This volume is as much about history as it is about the industry of entertainment. In 1998, The Observer, London, wrote about these compelling and at the same time estranging portraits: "If you are an actor, chances are that you will play a Nazi, or at least a cruel German officer in the Second World War. How do you make yourself look the part? First comes the matter of expression. Mug up on verbal cliches: 'ice-cold eyes', 'thin, compressed lips', with if possible, 'the hint of cynical smile playing around the corners of the mouth'. An 'air of cold command', rigid jaw muscles denoting 'utter ruthlessness', a tiny flare of nostrils to suggest unspeakable depths of sadism. Fine! Now put on the gear: the tunic with its collar-tabs of SS lightning flashes, the tall black cap with eagle, swastika and death's head. Stunning! Now all you need is that gargling accent unlike any noise ever uttered by a real German."
The image of Clint Eastwood wearing an SS field uniform should immediately clue you in to the fact that Piotr Uklanski's book is not a straightforward history of the Third Reich. In fact, it's not a history at all. For this book, Uklanski, a Polish-born photographer based in New York City, has compiled stills of Hollywood actors dressed in various Nazi uniforms. Beyond that, the book has no particular organizing principle. It also has no words whatsoever, save captions in the back identifying the names of the actors and the films in which they're appearing. This is a good thing, since any analysis would probably be simplistic and nullify the book's impact. If The Nazis has a message, it probably has something to do with the eroticization and fetishization of evil that is American popular culture's bread and butter. Whether or not you care to interpret this collection of images, however, there's something overwhelmingly strange about looking at page after page of familiar actors clad in Nazi uniforms. Many are unsurprising, such as Ralph Fiennes in Schindler's List and Charles Bronson in disguise in The Dirty Dozen, but some, like Ronald Reagan and Sonny Bono, are simply too bizarre to get your head around upon first viewing.