Imagine you could walk up to a Nazi and punch him in the face. Assuming you could do it without getting punched back, or arrested, or killed, a lot of people would give it a go. Most well-meaning, “normal” people would probably get a rush out of even a small act of punishment for a Nazi’s horrible crimes. It’s probably one of the reasons pop culture fixates on the Second World War; there’s a seemingly infinite quantity of catharsis to be found in re-enacting the events of the war and grasping at ephemeral scraps of justice for a senseless tragedy.

What if that Nazi were a young boy? A kid who’d joined the Hitler Youth willingly, not inspired by authentic racist ideology, but more because it’s what all the cool kids were doing. Yes, this kid has an imaginary friend that looks and talks like Hitler, but it’s an immature, distorted view of the dictator, one that parrots ugly myths about Jewish people that sound more like storybook fables than real wartime propaganda. Would a kid like that, with such a blinkered idea of what real Nazism and real cruelty is, be worthy of punishment?

It’s that complicated question that drives Taika Waititi’s new movie Jojo Rabbit. Waititi, who burst out of the New Zealand film scene with movies like What We Do in the Shadows and Hunt for the Wilderpeople (and the unfailingly fun Thor: Ragnarok) seems like the ideal filmmaker for this kind of story. His adept grip on the push and pull between happy and sad moments in a good screenplay - combined with a wry sense of politically-acute humour - is exactly what makes his satire rise above something like an SNL sketch. 

When we meet Jojo (first-time actor Roman Griffin Davis), the war is already in full swing. His father, an unseen military officer, is fighting in Italy and his mother (Scarlett Johansson) has decided to ship him off to a poorly-run training camp headed by Captain Klenzendorff (a magnificent Sam Rockwell). After an accident at the camp, however, Jojo has to return home, only to find that his mother is harbouring a Jewish refugee (Thomasin McKenzie) in a hidden room of the house. This causes a moral conflict for Jojo that even his buffoonish imaginary friend Adolf (Waititi) won’t be much help to solve.

Movies that take aim at incendiary, ripped-from-the-headlines issues ride a fine line. With too heavy a touch, a film feels preachy. Few people enjoy the experience of a lecture dressed up as an unconvincing drama or a boring comedy; the message can override the inner lives of the characters and can take the plot in implausible directions. Sometimes the right technique is to put some distance between the plot and the concept the filmmaker is commenting on. So you take a comedy about the polarization of politics and the spread of nationalist rhetoric and set it in the context of the Second World War. These are issues that were relevant then and are still so today, but by viewing it in a different context, it gives us some breathing room. By knowing how we navigated the historical situation (albeit with fewer laughs), the current problem doesn’t feel quite so daunting.

The most effective commentary in Jojo Rabbit mostly comes in the scenes between McKenzie’s refugee, Elsa, and Jojo. Slowly, Jojo comes to see that the garbage he’s been fed about Jews by the Nazi regime doesn’t match up with what he sees in Elsa. Of course, he’s quick to hide these realizations behind youthful bluster, but circumstances soon force Jojo to defend Elsa, giving him a narrative arc that you might wish to apply to any number of weirdos on the Internet.

It’s not hard to see the sorts of groups that Waititi might be targeting. Supporters of Donald Trump are an obvious one; since Jojo’s fervour for Hitler and Nazi talking points is more like standard celebrity worship than true beliefs, it’s tempting to wonder how many of Trump’s fans could be shaken of their theatrical displays of support. But an epiphany like Jojo’s could be shared by others: climate change deniers, online misogynists, or people who hate The Last Jedi. The point is that people can change, provided they immerse themselves in the thing they claim to oppose.

The Second World War setting provides an easy entry point, but maybe it’s a bit too familiar. We’ve already seen hundreds of satirical takes on Hitler and his officers, and perhaps some less low-hanging fruit would provide more surprises and even educate a little bit about history as it goes. This was one of the reasons I had so much fun in Armando Iannucci’s The Death of Stalin - it, too, offered up pitch-black satirical renderings of historical figures, but focused on a period that’s less implanted in the Western consciousness. That being said, I don’t think I could anticipate the grace with which Waititi’s Adolf vaults through a window after delivering some advice to Jojo.

Jojo Rabbit is one of those movies that doesn’t introduce a lot of fresh components, but the magic is in the assembly. Even its message - learn to have empathy for others - isn’t overwhelmingly cutting. But it’s clearly something we need to repeat, because there’s still people out there who need to learn the lesson.

Jojo Rabbit gets three and a half stars out of four.

Stray thoughts

• Like the kid playing Jojo, Archie Yates as Yorki is an great find - the scene of him and the other kids wandering the town in cardboard robot costumes was a huge highlight.

• Waititi doesn’t overuse any of his supporting cast, even though many are recognizable stars.

• Watching this movie is greatly improved by seeing it with a big, vocal audience - especially for a key moment in the climax.