The “Man in the High Castle” forgot to read Speer’s Memoirs before making the revolution

by Nicola Desiderio on June 2, 2025

The TV series The Man in the High Castle, based on the novel of the same name by Philip K. Dick (1928-1982), published in 1962 and winner of the Hugo Award for Best Novel in 1963, offers a uchronic rather than dystopian vision of an alternate world in which the Axis powers won World War II. In this hypothetical scenario, architecture and interior design play a crucial role in defining the setting of the story, which was produced by Amazon Studios and distributed on Prime Video across four seasons (2015-2019), totaling 40 episodes, directed by Frank Spotnitz. This “alternate universe” unfolds in the 1960s, where the United States is divided into three zones: the Japanese Pacific States in the west, the Greater Nazi Reich in the east, and a Neutral Zone in between. This political and ideological division is clearly manifested in the architecture of each region.

Before delving into the relationship between fiction and architecture, it is essential to remember that Philip K. Dick’s fame grew among critics and the general public mainly after his death, which occurred in the same year as the release of the famous film Blade Runner. The film, loosely based on the novel “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”, achieved immense success, cementing Dick as a cult author and helping define an architectural imagination as much dystopian as futuristic. In Ridley Scott’s work, Los Angeles is portrayed through a postmodern and brutalist aesthetic. This style constructs a visually complex and layered world, where the future appears as a collage of past eras and advanced technologies. Although Blade Runner focuses on Los Angeles, in The Man in the High Castle, San Francisco takes on a central role. It is one of the two cities—alongside New York—where the main protagonist, Juliana Crain, lives, and where much of the story regarding Japanese control unfolds. This contrast between the two cities highlights a deeply American dichotomy between the East Coast and West Coast, with New York serving as the headquarters of the Greater Nazi Reich in the series’ “alternate universe”.

The architecture in this area was designed to be imposing and monumental, inspired by the totalitarian classicism promoted by the Hitlerian regime. However, it presents surprising similarities to American construction from the period in which the story takes place. Domestic and work environments are carefully crafted to reflect social status, ideological beliefs, and the psychology of the characters. Interiors tend to be austere, with functional furnishings and dark colors, creating an atmosphere of control and discipline. The residences of high-ranking members of the regime exhibit luxury and symbols of power: expensive furnishings, traditional artworks, and meticulous attention to order and cleanliness emphasize their privileged position and adherence to the dominant ideology. In contrast, ordinary citizens’ homes are more modest and functional, often lacking personal decorative elements and characterized by forced conformity. Simple and practical furniture, along with the subtle presence of regime symbols, serves as a constant reminder of their submission. Curiously, despite these ideological references, interior architecture bears a remarkable resemblance to the style used by Hollywood Studios to shoot contemporary films of the 1960s in America, suggesting a common stylistic influence that transcends political differences.

Among the most striking buildings that serve as the backdrop for key scenes in the plot, the Party Tower of the Greater Nazi Reich in New York and the Große Halle in Berlin stand out, both as symbols of power and control. The first building could be paralleled with the architectural aesthetic expressed by Mies van der Rohe (1886–1969), the German master of the Modern Movement who migrated to the United States in 1938 due to increasing cultural repression in Germany under the Nazi regime. This opens reflections on the transformation of power symbols. His architecture, born in a rationalist context and characterized by rigor and functionality, ultimately came to represent an idea of economic efficiency, making it a symbol of global capitalism. His famous motto, “Less is More,” translates into austere and geometric buildings, which could seamlessly integrate into the landscape of a rigidly controlled society, like the one imagined by Philip K. Dick. Moreover, the geometric rigidity and aesthetic sobriety of his constructions harmonize perfectly with urban environments where control and order are dominant principles, further reinforcing the connection between space and power. Interestingly, although Nazi architecture did not embrace skyscrapers, Mies van der Rohe redefined power symbols, shifting them from the political sphere to the economic realm, precisely through this building typology—an emblematic expression of capitalism. This concept is evident in his American works, such as the Seagram Building, designed in 1958 in collaboration with Philip Johnson (1908–2005). This project marked an urban evolution, not only in New York, but also reflecting development dynamics similar to those present in the TV series.

The second building is a monumental domed structure, originally conceived by Adolf Hitler in a 1925 sketch and later developed by his chief architect, Albert Speer (1905–1981). Also Known as the Volkshalle (Hall of the People) or Ruhmeshalle (Hall of Glory), the complex was part of a vast urban plan intended to transform Berlin into Welthauptstadt Germania, the universal capital of the Third Reich, envisioned after a Nazi victory in World War II. This massive construction, never realized, was designed to feature a colossal dome with a diameter of 250 meters and a total height of 320 meters, making it the largest structure of its kind ever conceived. Its square base of 315 x 315 meters supported a monumental entrance, inspired by the Pantheon in Rome, emphasizing the idea of grandeur and authority. However, the project was abandoned with the outbreak of World War II. In digital reconstructions created by set designers, the Große Halle appears as a work of extraordinary monumentality, yet surprisingly harmonious within the urban context of Berlin. Despite being out of scale, it manages to maintain a certain elegance without feeling oppressive. The interior, designed to accommodate up to 180,000 people, would have featured acoustics engineered to amplify the voice of a single speaker, positioned in a gigantic niche. This design choice would have enhanced the theatrical and propagandistic impact of the building, transforming it into a true temple of rhetoric and dominant ideology,

In the urban representation, the transportation system plays a fundamental role, particularly in the eastern area under the Greater Nazi Reich, where the rail network stands out for its efficiency and modernity. High-speed trains connect the major cities, integrating with a system of supersonic aircraft reminiscent of the Concorde, the supersonic airliner developed by an Anglo-French consortium, which operated between 1976 and 2003. The Concorde was capable of reaching a maximum speed of approximately 2,179 km/h, allowing London and Paris to be connected to New York in about three and a half hours. The combination of advanced rail and air transport represents a vision of efficiency and technological progress, still an aspiration for the most advanced societies, capable of redefining urban mobility models.

Now, let’s examine the architecture of the other two regions of North America. The Neutral Zone, located between the two superpowers, is characterized by dusty roads and more rudimentary means of transport, often used by dissidents and resistance members. This landscape is still present in many central U.S. states, according to contemporary films set in the Midwest. The architecture in this part of the country is more heterogeneous and reflects its status as a “no man’s land,” a crossroads of cultures and influences. Buildings tend to be simpler and more functional, often with a worn-out and improvised appearance, symbolizing the lack of central authority and the precariousness of life in this region. Interiors in this zone are often spartan and functional, reflecting the harsh reality of life here. There is a pervasive sense of instability and lack of belonging, with makeshift furnishings and an atmosphere of transience.

The architecture in the Japanese Zone presents a sharp contrast. Here, traditional Japanese elements blend with modernist influences, creating a more refined and elegant aesthetic. There is a noticeable use of natural materials such as wood and paper, organic lines, and a strong emphasis on harmony and balance. Interiors tend to be minimalist, with open spaces and a focus on functionality and tranquility, in line with Japanese aesthetic philosophy. Homes in this Zone, including those of ordinary citizens, reflect a sense of order, harmony, and respect for tradition. Interior spaces are often characterized by natural elements, well-defined areas, and attention to aesthetic details.

The set design of the TV series was created by a team of designers and artists who employed advanced digital rendering techniques, combining physical sets with computer-generated visual effects. Among the Rendering and Computer Graphics techniques used were: Photogrammetry, a technique that allows for the creation of detailed digital models from real images. Digital Matte Painting, a method used to transform existing buildings, adding architectural elements. 3D Compositing, which enriched the cities with three-dimensional objects such as signs, statues, and government structures, creating a strong visual impact. Additionally, Special Effects and Post-Production were enhanced through CGI (Computer-Generated Imagery), altering the streets and skyscrapers of cities like San Francisco and New York to reflect Japanese and Nazi aesthetics. The color palette and materials used also contribute to defining the atmosphere of each zone: In the Nazi Zone, dark and saturated colors such as black, gray, and red dominate, along with materials like stone and metal, evoking a sense of strength and authority. In the Japanese Zone, softer and natural colors like beige, white, and green are prevalent, combined with materials such as wood, paper, and silk, creating an atmosphere of calm and refinement. The Neutral Zone features a broader and muted color range, with heterogeneous materials that reflect its borderland nature.

In the direction of The Man in the High Castle, it seems that Frank Spotnitz did not take full advantage of Inside the Third Reich (Erinnerungen, Memoirs in Grman), the book published in 1970, in which Albert Speer compiled his recollections written during his detention in Spandau prison, where he served twenty years following the Nuremberg Trials. This work is not only a detailed and controversial testimony about Nazi Germany, but it also reconstructs the architectural vision shared by Speer and Hitler, leading to the development of the “Theory of Ruin Value” (Ruinenwerttheorie). This theory proposed the construction of buildings designed to transform into monumental ruins, evoking the grandeur of ancient civilizations to celebrate the greatness of the Third Reich. In the series, this concept is simplified into the “Theory of Destruction,” referring to the planned devastation of symbolic American landmarks such as the Statue of Liberty and the Lincoln Memorial. A practice—sadly still relevant today — used for the indiscriminate exportation of so-called “Western democracy” to regions of the world apparently lacking this “extraordinary” system of governance.

Moreover, the figure of Speer seems to find an echo in the character of Martin Heusmann, a high-ranking Nazi officer who, after Hitler’s death — which he orchestrated — becomes Chancellor of the Greater Nazi Reich, although his power is short-lived. Historically, the architect was the last person to see Hitler before his suicide in the Berlin bunker. However, the series’ plot subtly and subliminally suggests that it was Speer himself who killed him, compromising his intellectual stature and the complexity of his character. Architecture was a family tradition for Speer: his father and grandfather were both architects, as was his son, Albert Speer Jr., who passed away in 2017 at the age of 83, recognized as a prestigious professional at an international level.

The director developed a plot whose ending proves disappointing for those who followed the series up to the fortieth episode, navigating a narrative dense with ambiguous and contradictory moral messages. Had he delved deeper into Speer’s Memoirs, he might have found useful insights to avoid certain historical oversimplifications and superficialities in the representation of the context. The book is mentioned, albeit not explicitly named, by Helen, the wife of the series’ male protagonist, John Smith, a high-ranking Nazi officer leading the American Reich. This reference occurs in the fourth episode of the fourth season, in a scene set in the penthouse where the couple’s family resides. Here, the housekeeper Birgit, addressing Helen, suggests reading a volume, remarking that “…It seems everyone has read it,” except for “The Man in the High Castle.”

The “Man in the High Castle” forgot to read Speer’s Memoirs before making the revolution

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