Arthur Goldman is a loud, flamboyant, and obscenely wealthy Jewish businessman living in a Manhattan penthouse. He’s obsessed with his Jewishness, yet he treats his assistant like dirt. Then, suddenly, Israeli agents snatch him. They claim he’s actually Dorff, a notorious Nazi war criminal.
What happens next isn't your typical courtroom drama. The Man in the Glass Booth is a jagged, abrasive, and deeply confusing piece of cinema that refuses to give the audience an easy out. It’s a film that asks if a man can lose himself so deeply in a persona that the truth actually ceases to matter. Honestly, it’s one of the weirdest things to come out of the 1970s "American Film Theatre" series.
Maximilian Schell’s Performance is Absolutely Manic
If you’ve seen the movie, you know Maximilian Schell doesn't just act; he vibrates. He won an Oscar nomination for this, and it’s easy to see why. He plays Goldman with this terrifying, high-pitched energy. One minute he’s laughing about his wealth, and the next, he’s screaming in a glass cage in Israel, donning an SS uniform and taunting his captors.
It’s uncomfortable. It’s supposed to be.
Schell had already won an Oscar for Judgment at Nuremberg, which is a much more "polite" film about the Holocaust. This is the opposite. This is raw. The film was directed by Arthur Hiller—the guy who did Love Story—which feels like a total 180-degree turn in style. Hiller keeps the camera tight on Goldman’s face, forcing you to deal with his sweat, his spit, and his madness.
The dialogue is fast. Snappy. Brutal. It’s based on a play by Robert Shaw. Yeah, that Robert Shaw—the guy who played Quint in Jaws. Shaw was a brilliant writer, but he actually hated this film version. He reportedly wanted his name taken off it because he felt Hiller messed with the ambiguity of the ending.
The Controversy Behind the Script
The story is loosely—and I mean very loosely—inspired by the real-life trial of Adolf Eichmann. In 1961, Eichmann sat in a bulletproof glass booth in Jerusalem. It was a global spectacle. Shaw took that imagery and flipped it. He wanted to explore the "Stockholm Syndrome" of the soul.
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Edward Anhalt wrote the screenplay, and he kept the theatrical roots visible. Most of the movie takes place in just two locations: the New York penthouse and the Israeli courtroom. This creates a claustrophobic feeling. You can’t escape Goldman’s rants. He speaks with a strange, biting wit about the nature of power and the "attraction" of the oppressor.
Some critics at the time, and even now, found it offensive. They felt it played too much with the idea of Jewish guilt or the "banality of evil." But that’s the point. The film doesn't want you to be comfortable. It wants to trigger a visceral reaction to the idea of identity. Is Goldman a Jew pretending to be a Nazi? Or a Nazi who pretended to be a Jew for thirty years?
Why the Ending Still Baffles Audiences
Without spoiling the specific beats for those who haven't caught it on a TCM run or a rare streaming appearance, the ending of The Man in the Glass Booth is a Rorschach test.
Throughout the trial, Goldman/Dorff stays in his booth. He’s protected by glass, yet he’s a specimen on display. He delivers these long, agonizing monologues that sound like a defense of the Third Reich, but they are layered with such self-loathing that you start to wonder if he’s trying to force the world to execute him for sins he didn't even commit. Or maybe he did.
The ambiguity is the "meat" of the movie. If you go into this looking for a "whodunit" or a clear legal thriller, you’ll be disappointed. It’s a psychological horror movie where the monster and the victim share the same skin.
The Production Context of 1975
This film was part of the American Film Theatre (AFT) experiment. The idea was to bring great plays to the "big screen" for limited engagements. It wasn't meant to be a blockbuster. It was meant to be art. Because of that, it has a very specific "filmed play" aesthetic.
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The lighting is harsh. The sets are minimalist.
- Director: Arthur Hiller
- Writer: Edward Anhalt (based on Robert Shaw's play)
- Starring: Maximilian Schell, Lois Nettleton, Lawrence Pressman
- Release Year: 1975
Working with such a heavy topic in the mid-70s was a gamble. The world was still processing the televised reality of the Eichmann trial and the subsequent works of Hannah Arendt. This film leaned into the most difficult parts of those conversations. It didn't try to be "inspiring."
The Man in the Glass Booth and Modern Relevance
Watching this today is a trip. We live in an era of "identity" and "performative" behavior. Goldman is the ultimate performer. He understands that if you say something loud enough and with enough conviction, people will believe it—even if it’s a lie that destroys you.
The film also serves as a reminder of Maximilian Schell’s range. Most people remember him as the elder statesman of European cinema, but here, he is a live wire. He’s dangerous.
If you’re going to watch it, prepare yourself for a heavy lift. It’s not "fun" viewing. It’s a movie that demands you sit with the worst parts of human history and human psychology. It’s about the masks we wear to survive and the way those masks can eventually eat our faces.
How to Approach This Film Today
If you want to actually get the most out of The Man in the Glass Booth, don't just watch it as a historical artifact. Look at it as a character study.
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First, read up on the Adolf Eichmann trial. Understanding the real "glass booth" gives the film's set design a much deeper meaning. The booth wasn't just for safety; it was a symbol of isolation.
Second, look for the 2003 Kino Lorber DVD or a high-quality digital transfer. The AFT films were often shot on 35mm but sometimes feel grainy; the high-contrast lighting of the penthouse scenes needs a good transfer to really pop.
Finally, pay attention to the silence. In between Schell’s screaming matches, there are moments of dead silence in the courtroom. That’s where the real horror of the film lives. It’s in the realization that no matter what the verdict is, the damage done to these characters is permanent.
Ultimately, this is a film about the "Glass Booth" we all live in—the barriers we build between our true selves and the versions of us the world demands to see. It’s ugly, brilliant, and totally unique.
Next Steps for Film History Buffs
To truly grasp the impact of this film, your next step should be comparing it to the 1961 film Judgment at Nuremberg. Notice how Maximilian Schell’s performance changes when he moves from the role of a defense attorney to the man in the dock himself. You should also seek out the original 1967 novel by Robert Shaw to see just how much the "ambiguity" Shaw complained about was altered for the screen. Seeing these two versions side-by-side reveals the tension between a writer’s intent and a director’s vision.