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The film is adapted from a novel by Klaus Mann, Thomas' son, which he wrote in exile and which, of course, could not be published in Nazi Germany. Even after the war, publication was prevented by the heirs of Gustaf Gründgens, the actor on whom the character of Hendrik was allegedly based. Mann committed suicide at least partly because of the continued failure to have this work published in his native land. It is a salutary irony that thanks to Brandauer, who is Austrian, and Director Szabo, who is Hungarian, his great character now appears before a world audience with that special vividness a distinguished film can impart.
The movie is beautifully cast, with an especially delicate portrayal of absolute sadism by Rolf Hoppe, as Hendrik's Nazi protector. Szabo's style is deliberately arrhythmic. There are formality and expansiveness in some sequences, shock cuts and nervous tension in others, emphasizing the contrast between the actor's bland public face and the awful anxiety that keeps growing and growing just beneath its surface. The result is a film that, through the sheer force of its imagery and its central performance, is that rarest of artistic efforts, a moral act that is never overtly moralizing, and always supremely artful.
— By Richard Schickel