As seemingly improbable as Schindler‘s List with an added laugh track or Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom subbing in Hitler Youth for Boy Scouts, Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit’s very premise is a bold thought experiment: how do you make modern audiences (notoriously sensitive modern audiences, that is) comfortable laughing at WWII-era Nazism? How do you get them to sympathize with literal Nazi characters? And, maybe most importantly, how do you do all this without getting the endorsement of literal modern-day Nazis?

Waititi’s trick is multi-tiered and involves a healthy dollop of satire, shmearing in some Charlie Chaplin slapstick, frosting it all with a healthy garnish of heartfelt sincerity, all while speaking to the utter absurdity of bias as a very prospect. By filtering anti-Semitism, racism, and bigotry through the lens of a child coming of age in Nazi Germany, Jojo Rabbit becomes a stirring takedown of the very concept of prejudice itself and any group or person that defines themselves by disclusion or hatred of the “other”.

The sole intent of Jojo Rabbit is not to make audiences laugh (though laugh, many most certainly will) but to take a satirical look at how hate spreads, growing in the fetid wasteland of ignorance, but is also susceptible to defeat through understanding and basic human decency. Waititi enshrines his morality play within the budding connection between two polar opposites: a committed Nazi youth with an imaginary Hitler BFF and a teenaged Jewish girl in hiding. It’s a bold and risky maneuver that Waititi dares to execute and one that will result in varying mileage, depending upon how open viewers are to the basic premise of his satire.

“Become the rabbit Jojo,” come the encouraging words of the make-believe Fuhrër (Waititi). An imaginary friend and figment of Jojo’s (Roman Griffin Davis) imagination, this movie’s fairy tale version of Hitler is a pretty swell fella. He’s encouraging. He’s empowering. He’s dressed to kill. He’s also the first to extend a hand when the mean older kids knock Jojo down, mocking his lack of killer instinct when he refuses to kill a helpless bunny. But he’s a figment, nothing more, and his monstrous ways begin to peek out as Jojo opens himself up to different viewpoints.

Imaginary BFF Adolf becomes a cipher for Jojo’s routinely inbred and ungrounded prejudice with the movie rubbing against the ridiculous egg-laying, coffin-sleeping, child-eating Jewish propaganda used to promote anti-Semitism amongst Germany’s youngest and most gullible recruits. But when Jojo finds Elsa (Thomasin McKenzie) hiding in his sympathetic mother’s (Scarlett Johansson) attic, he can’t square the pleasant and plain-looking girl with his conception of the fierce and fearful Jew of local lore. Where ever are her horns?

A movie that treats Adolf Hitler and Nazi Germany as a punchline could never have appealed to all audiences. There are some people who, for good reason, just won’t be able to stomach having a laugh at any of this, and will find little value in Waititi’s take on Hitler, regardless of him being a figment of a 10-year’s old imagination or no. Waititi smartly puts himself in the Fuhrër’s shoes, a role that I would image as hard as any to cast, and does a fine job of balancing the more lighthearted and deadly serious elements of this once-in-a-lifetime creation.

The entire cast is given a chance to shine; Sam Rockwell pops as the jaded but secretly fabulous Captain Klenzedorf; Alfie Allen’s Finkle is his second-in-command and a closer than meets the eye confidante; Rebel Wilson plays a cause-committed brainwasher with full-throated gusto; newcomer Archie Yates stands out as Jojo’s moralled sidekick Yorki; and Stephen Merchant looks frightfully natural in solid black SS gear. The work from David, McKenzie, and Johansson is among the film’s best, finding that perfect balance of humor and heart that’s so very necessary to keep Jojo Rabbit from slipping into bad taste or devolving into twee kiddie romance puff.

Waititi’s direction presages a storyteller sharpening his skill on a risky whetstone, one that could have derailed his thus-far remarkable career with the stains of a misguided satire, but that is simply not the case. Drawing from Christine Leunens’ novel, Waititi channels that unique blend of pathos and absurdist comedy that has come to define his best work, i.e. Hunt for the Wilderpeople and Boy, while utilizing his big-scale experience on massive budget projects like Thor: Ragnarok to build impressive war-time set pieces. Jojo Rabbit sees Waititi stretch into new territory with the kind of comfort and ease that all storytellers pine for and though it will certainly not be for everyone, those who find it within their tastes are certain to be spellbound.

CONCLUSION: The very prospect of a Nazi satire is risky business but Taika Waititi pulls it off like a pro, guiding a great cast and more-than-meets-the-eye characters to a heartfelt, deeply funny, and meaningful conclusion.