Both these films are are true stories. Both deal with lesser-known aspects of the Second World War. Both feature epic sadism against innocents.
In The German Doctor — called Wakolda in Europe — an unwitting Argentinian family of hoteliers takes in a boarder, slowly becoming aware that the man is no mere medical practitioner. The doctor is a handsome and laconic man, evidently a WWII-era era, possibly a Nazi physician (Alex Brendemühl) now in Bariloche, Argentina, after having successfully disappeared for well over a decade in Buenos Aires. It is 1960.
On the barren, featureless road to Barriloche, he meets an Argentinian family, becoming fascinated with their daughter Lilith (Florencia Bado), a one-time preemie who is consequently smaller than her peers. Doctor ‘Helmut Gregor,’ becomes a guest of the family’s renovated lodging house. With mother Eva’s permission (Natalia Oreiro) and behind suspicious father Enzo’s (Diego Peretti) back, the imperious doctor starts to treat the 12-year-old with unheard-of growth hormone to get her to grow to ‘normal’ size.
Lilith (the name has outsize resonance for the Biblically conscious, as she was the “second woman” who supposedly lured Adam from Eve to his sinful MacIntosh experimentation) is delighted by the “help” she is getting from the formidable doctor. She can now begin to hold her own amongst the feral teens who deride her small stature and refuse to let her compete on an even plane with them.
The horror of who and what Dr. Gregor really is dawns gradually on the family members as it becomes clear to the viewer. The story becomes a chilling psychological suspenser that features no tricks or special effects, but an icy recognition of what was happening for decades under our noses in Argentina, (elsewhere in South America many nations delightedly took in Axis murderers, but few with the alacrity and open-armed hugs of the Argentinian powers-that-were). The film provides an unusual perspective, since South America does not immediately spring to mind as the venue for increasing malfeasance, secrecy, dread, and horror.
The principals in the film, directed by the deft and talented Lucia Puenzo, are genuine and affecting, and the film makes excellent use of real WWII grainy footage, authentic notebooks, and nefarious underground clots of brutal schemers from verminous Nazi nests. (We use the gentlest, sweetest vocabulary fitting for the occasion.) There is also a subplot love story, but the audience white-knuckles it until the denouement. Not a frou-frou film, but well-worth a visit.