Review: Denial

Denial (12A)

UK/USA 2016  100 mins  Dir: Mick Jackson  Cast: Rachel Weisz, Tom Wilkinson, Timothy Spall, Andrew Scott

A solid if unexceptional account of an extraordinary libel case, directed by Bristol University graduate Mick Jackson from a screenplay by David Hare, Denial is a drama that carries an unanticipated resonance in this ‘post-truth’ age in which the new leader of the free world’s henchpersons trade in ‘alternative facts’. It’s adapted from Deborah Lipstadt’s self-explanatory History on Trial: My Day in Court with a Holocaust Denier and is at its best in unpicking the moral dilemmas at the heart of courtroom tactics under a legal system that works against natural justice. But despite such regrettable, manipulative flourishes as fleeting images of ghostly Jews being herded into the gas chambers at Auschwitz, it winds up feeling rather dry and flat.

Given that Denial is based on Lipstadt’s memoir and places her at the centre of the drama, Rachel Weisz’s rather shrill performance, complete with booming Queens accent, hardly makes her the most endearing of figures. But then we meet David Irving, who barges into a hall where Lipstadt is giving a lecture at Emory University in Atlanta, and challenges her to debate the truth of the Holocaust with him. As played by Timothy Spall, who must have required a long hot bath in which to scrub himself clean after each day on set, Irving is a crazed, odious, blustering monomaniac, proudly wearing the swivel-eyed conspiracy theorist’s metaphorical tinfoil hat of honour. He subsequently sues her for libel, claiming that his professional reputation as a historian has been damaged by her book, Denying the Holocaust. Cannily, he chooses to do so in London, the libel capital of the world, where the burden of proof is placed upon the defendant. In order to win, Lipstadt must prove not only that Irving is lying in denying the Holocaust, but that he does so knowingly to pursue a political agenda.

Much fun is had at the expense of the English legal system (“I don’t mind Dickensian, it’s Kafka-esque I have trouble with,” quips Lipstadt) as the defence is marshalled by rather self-satisfied Anthony Julius, who likes to remind everyone of how he won Princess Diana her big divorce payday. He’s played by Andrew Scott – aka Moriarty in the Beeb’s Sherlock  – and there’s a further rather jarring Sherlock link when Mark Gatiss pops up with a German accent as an expert witness. Julius then instructs buttoned-up Scottish barrister Richard Rampton (Tom Wilkinson). Since Irving has chosen to represent himself, an early decision is made not to permit Lipstadt to testify. While this is all historically accurate, it makes for unsatisfying drama, reducing Lipstadt, about whom we learn very little beyond the case, to a mute participant in the proceedings, alternately glowering and grinning triumphantly as the trial progresses.

The controversial tactics deployed by Julius and Rampton to narrow the focus make for the most fascinating element of the drama. Outside the courtroom, Lipstadt is pressured by the opposing forces of chattering class London Jews (who urge her to settle) and Holocaust survivors (who demand the opportunity to confront Irving about his lies). But Julius is adamant that he will not permit Jewish witnesses to be cross-examined by Irving. The pretence is that the Holocaust is not on trial here, although effectively that is exactly what’s happening. If Irving wins, it becomes respectable to think that there are two equally valid points of view on the subject. Hare’s script is alive to the wider context – listen out for Lipstadt’s reference to climate change in the closing scenes – providing plenty of scope for post-screening debates. Perhaps the most intriguing and alarming question is this: if the trial took place in the current populist climate, in front of a jury rather than a single judge, and Irving characterised himself as an ‘outsider’ historian taking on the establishment elite, how confident can we be that the same verdict would be reached?