James Vanderbilt’s Nuremberg isn’t just a courtroom drama—it’s a psychological siege, plunging into the 1945-46 trials where the Allies forged justice from atrocity’s forge. Rami Malek’s Douglas Kelley, the sharp U.S. Army psychiatrist, probes the Nazi prisoners’ psyches, but it’s his cat-and-mouse with Russell Crowe’s Hermann Göring that scorches the screen. Crowe channels the Reichsmarschall’s bloated charisma—charming, cunning, a monster who loved his kids and looted nations—with a menace that chills deeper than any gavel bang. Malek’s Kelley starts cocky, cracking enigmas, but Göring’s banal horrors (the “ordinary” evil of bureaucracy and bombs) unravel him, sparking a bond that’s as disturbing as it is riveting.

John Slattery’s Robert H. Jackson anchors the legal frenzy, building genocide’s definition amid Allied infighting and missing evidence. Leo Woodall’s Sgt. Howie Triest adds raw humanity, Michael Shannon’s intensity simmers in the shadows, Colin Hanks grounds the prosecutors’ grind. Vanderbilt’s script (from Jack El-Hai’s book) peels the banality of evil: What fuels fascism? Can courts exorcise it? Stark visuals—gray cells, rain-slicked Nuremberg—pair with taut tension, blending Zodiac’s obsession with Oppenheimer’s weight.

Flawed? Pacing lags in legalese, some accents wobble, but Crowe’s tour-de-force (Oscar buzz?) and Malek’s descent make it mandatory. 7.6/10 IMDb, 75% RT—entertaining, essential, unflinching. History’s ghosts demand we watch.

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