The concept of evil, which philosophy professor Paul Formosa observes as “mysterious, demonic and beyond our human powers of understanding,” (57) often eludes our attempts to define people or actions that society deems morally reproachful and unacceptable. Essentially, Formosa argues that we fail to concretise this concept and rely upon our imagination to see evil as an inhuman entity. As a result, this simple dehumanising does away with the need to understand them. ‘Evil,’ then, becomes the antithesis to humanity and denotes the absence of all human goodness. Formosa’s point also highlights a common trend in cinematic depictions of Hitler and the Nazis as manipulative, preternatural creatures or simply lunatics (Krumm). The film critic Shirley Goldberg adds that Hitler himself “has become the measuring rod of ‘Evil’,” whether in film or television portrayals. In other words, humanising such evil is simply impossible because of the “prevailing taboo” that it is “obscene,” (Goldberg) in the light of atrocities in the war that “still deserves dishonourable mention today” (Carr 1). However, humanising evil in film makes us more aware of environments and beliefs that spur humans to become the monsters of our common understanding. The analysis of films that juxtapose humanity with evil, in particular Der Untergang, allows us to realise historical atrocities as a human construct and not an unexplained phenomenon. By analysing key scenes in the movie and engaging arguments against the film’s depiction of various characters, I will argue that it is necessary to humanise evil, in defining its human aspects while preserving its demonic quality. Contrary to Formosa’s claim, humanising evil should be allowed as it enables us to comprehend it within our capacity, drawing our attention to the circumstances leading to its existence. The recognition of these circumstances as something real and essentially human goes some way in identifying similar traits in political and social arenas of society and preventing them from manifesting into a real menace. Der Untergang (Downfall) was released in 2004 and directed by Oliver Hirschbiegel, starring Swiss actor Bruno Ganz as the delusional dictator who refuses to admit defeat. Touted as the first German film to portray Hitler in a more humane light, Der Untergang draws its plot largely from In Hitler’s Bunker: The Last Days of the Third Reich, the writings of German historian Joachim Fest and Until the Final Hour, a collection of memoirs by Hitler’s secretary Traudl Junge. The movie follows Hitler’s last days till his suicide in a Berlin besieged by Soviet troops. Amid utter destruction, a mass exodus of the Party faithful and senseless fighting by soldiers and civilians alike, Hitler stands out as a being “visibly ravaged by [the] hellish cave existence” of the bunker which he lived (Fest 21). He rages at his generals’ incompetence, entertains his staff and marries his wife Eva Braun in a manner that is resonant with everyday traits of ordinary human behaviour. Such scenes also remind us of the Hitler we are used to seeing; his unfeeling demands for the death of his associates, his frequent outbursts against the Jews and the German people, and his desire for the destruction of a Germany that has failed his plans for world conquest. The claustrophobic atmosphere of the bunker serves as the backdrop of the degradation of human nature, exemplified by Hitler and other bunker denizens. Amid this degradation emerge the decisions these Germans enact that still define them as evil, yet very human. That the film is historically accurate and ends with chilling scenes of death and destruction add to its credibility, giving the audience reason to believe that it had put forth an ‘accurate’ picture of Hitler and his last days. However, it was this ‘accuracy’ that drew much criticism that the film would “arouse sympathy, where none should be allowed” (Hoschstadt 241) for Hitler and the Nazis and it would “legitimise Hitler, soften his evil and make his crimes easier to forgive” (Hundley). The dichotomy of evil and humanity in film draws people to evil personalities because their human limitations make them all the more horrifying, given their capacity for great evil. By extension, the idea of a human being capable of harbouring such evil that transcends physical limits makes evil in itself grosser than being dismissed as a supernatural force. Two key scenes (Hitler in his office with Junge, and a separate meeting with his associate Albert Speer) show the merits of portraying Hitler as a fallible person and demonstrate his influence which garnered much fascination among his followers, despite his deteriorating health and sanity. As such, the placing of Hitler’s humanity and his propensity for evil removes the myth of evil as demonic and devoid of human nature. Nazi youth leader Baldur von Shirach confirms in his experiences wi