Sometimes the most cathartic way of representing tragedy is through artistic expression, and very few events have inspired people from across the world to express their sorrow and pity quite as much as the Holocaust. For over half a century now, artists have produced novels, non-fiction works, artworks and films to try and convey the unspeakable evils inflicted upon humanity during the Second World War. These artworks range from the terrifyingly horrific to the most depressingly bleak, with a film that combines both of these being Diamonds of the Night (Czech: Démanty noci), the debut film from Czech master Jan Němec. A surreal but hopeless vision of the anxiety that enveloped Europe during the period, Diamonds of the Night is one of the most audacious but disturbing visions of the Holocaust ever put on film, and considering there is not a concentration camp in sight, the manner in which Němec is able to garner sheer terror through the most simple means is utterly astonishing.

The film, which only runs one hour, is focused on two young Jewish boys, played by Antonín Kumbera and Ladislav Jánsky, who are unnamed for the duration of the film, with the only information the audience receives about them is that they are escapees from a train that transports individuals between concentration camps. Fatigued, malnourished and growing increasingly closer to death through their diminished strength, these two boys have to fight for survival while trying to elude the specter of the concentration camps, with the threat of being caught looming over them like a grotesque, terrifying spirit. Escape is not simple for these boys, but through working together – bonded not only by their mutual desire to be free but also through their fraternal connection – they are able to embrace the harsh circumstances and make it relatively far, before eventually encountering a group of German hunters, who relish in terrorizing the boys, and decide that they will do exactly what they had been trying to escape – execute them.

One of the most distinct elements of Diamonds of the Night are the two central performances. Both of the actors, Antonín Kumbera and Ladislav Jánsky, were unprofessional young performers (and Diamonds of the Night proved to be their only notable achievement, with Jánsky starring in only three more films before his death, and Kumbera having this film credited as his only performance to date), but the amateur nature of these performances only supported the tone of the film. These two young men are truly integrated within this film, inhabiting these performances with reckless perfection, creating characters that are so ordinary, and conventional in every sense of the word – yet, the audience is so deeply connected to them, with their terrifying plight creating absolute empathy for these boys. Their performances are certainly not groundbreaking by any means but are deeply naturalistic and honest. There are some emotions only capable of being conveyed by unprofessional performers, and the realistic nature of these performances proved to be one of the most extraordinary merits of this film.

The most straightforward way to describe Diamonds of the Night is as a terrifying dream represented on stark celluloid. Throughout this film, it seemed to oscillate between being a bleak realistic tale, and an unhinged expression of surrealist despair. This is entirely unconventional for a film such as Diamonds of the Night, which is focused on representing the horrifyingly real terrors of the Holocaust, so the decision on the part of the filmmakers to construct this film as a deeply disturbing, but still strangely poetic, surreal experiment was audacious, to say the least. The dream-like imagery should not logically work alongside the bleak narrative, yet instead of being oppositional, they work together remarkably well. Němec constructed something unbelievably complex and moving, and it was only through pure, unadulterated audacity that he managed to create something this undeniably special.

Diamonds of the Night is a very unconventional film, for a number of reasons. We can consider the opening shot, in which our two protagonists escape the train and retreat into the forest, where they hope to make their escape. This opening scene alone is the perfect merging of realist horror and thrilling suspense, and the film often switches between grand expressions of danger, and more subtle social commentary, without ever attempting to be populist. There are many moments within this film that reminded me of the seminal silent documentary, Man with a Movie Camera, Dziga Vertov’s masterpiece of Russian society that was arguably distant from the bleak and horrifying nature of Diamonds of the Night, but shares the same intention of showing fragments of society to build towards a larger narrative. Man with a Movie Camera was (and remains to this day) one of the most audacious documentary films ever made, and considering how innovative Diamonds of the Night itself was, it is quite odd that it has not received the same level of acclaim.

The delicate way in which Němec controls camera movement in Diamonds of the Night, being intimate and documentary-like, as well as the way he uses sound is absolutely astonishing. The cinematography in this film is raw and naturalistic and creates the sense of bleak reality being conveyed on screen, rather than a polished film production. The sound itself serves to be a character in this film, with dialogue being almost non-existent throughout the entirety of Diamonds of the Night, and thus every other sound – every gunshot, footstep, and breath is amplified and contributes to evoking uncontrollable fear and anxiety within this film. I have always maintained that there is an inherent value in post-silent era films that is missing in other films – the realization in the virtue of saying nothing at all as a way of something more than any words ever could. The film itself is composed of several moments of surreal confusion and dislocation, but this ambiguity in representing this story in such a fragmented fashion is one of the most incredible merits of this astounding film.

Diamonds of the Night is a film in which fragments of fear and anxiety are woven together to invoke a realistic but terrifying view of the plight millions of people endured in Europe during the Second World War. The emotional resonance of this film cannot be understated – the audience goes on this journey with these young men who are trying to survive in an environment that is not even vaguely welcoming to them. They struggle to endure the conditions, and the film culminates in an unbelievably ambiguous conclusion, either being a satisfying resolution or the suggestion of something far more bleak and horrifying. Diamonds of the Night is a challenging film to watch – it is exhausting and complex, and it is not particularly endearing. It is not inspiring, and it is often despairingly bleak. However, it is a beautiful film about the loss of innocence, delivering its message in an astonishingly bleak and visceral manner. Diamonds of the Night is a film that has a relatively low profile, but it is one of the most haunting films I have ever seen, and considering that I struggled to sleep after realizing what the ambiguous ending possibly represented, one just needs to applaud Němec for his astonishing work in showing the psychologically-disturbing side of the Holocaust, and creating one of the most magnificent statements on the era ever made.