1994 Directed by Elijah Moshinsky
In the midst of World War II, Nazi officer Otto Schatz declares the execution of Jewish music-hall comedian Genghis Cohn. Many years later, Otto is comfortably retired into the life of a highly respected police commissioner, and is investigating a series of murders when he encounters the ghost of Genghis Cohn. The haunting turns into a taunting, and before he knows it, Schatz is slowly driven mad as he is lured into a trap.
Screen Two: Genghis Cohn, Der Tanz des Dschinghis Cohn
UK
USA
UK
USA
Oddball A&E made-for-TV-movie about a Nazi haunted by a comedian/ventriloquist he killed during WWII. Tonally, it's a schizophrenic marvel. There's singing, dancing, dire scenes about the holocaust, and artery geysers. There's also a scene in which our haunted anti-hero sits on top of a therapists couch, pretends to be the ventriloquist dummy and performs the comedian's act. Diana Rigg is wonderful, as always. Daniel Craig appears in a limited, early role as a German officer. It's worth tracking down because there's not too many films like it -- so, there's nothing really like it -- oddities and made-for-TV limitations included.
I can guarantee you'll never see another film like this in your life. The '90s were just on a level of their own.
Mostly cool for a two minute long interaction between Diana Rigg and Daniel Craig!
Yep, it's a weird one - the psychological haunting is one thing but then there's serial sex murders on top of that?? Okay lol. It was engaging though, some fun gags and performances (surprised to see baby Daniel Craig!!)
Hell of an odd TV movie. Having read the synopsis of the book, which includes a second coming of Christ and Lilith, my guess is the novel was probably not adaptable and this was the best they could do. The resulting film has some amusing moments but is clearly missing something; but it may be worth viewing as it's likely the only film about a former Nazi being haunted by his victim who's determined to turn him into a Jew while a series of sex murders happens.
