One fatal outgrowth of the Depression era was the rise of antisemitism. Strategically it took time before that theme played a large role in German cinema, and so one modest Swedish film had the questionable honor of being the ‘first’ – meaning that its caricature of Jews, a well-established cli­ché within European entertainment, grew into new, potentially evil dimensions. The opening scenes on a boat already point in this direction. Bendel seems like a rat, and the way he touches money leads immediately to other clues. His pal Pet­terson is interested in beautiful women, Bendel is interested in money. More and more negative clichés follow: Bendel has an ironic view of the Swedes because they loath money. The beauty of paintings means nothing to him, only the price. Per-Axel Branner was a good professional, and his view of Depression-era Sweden is convincing. Things happen and, typical of the times, Jewish caricature was just another normal detail of everyday life. So Petterson & Bendel, now an afterthought in view of larger, more important threats, was no more than a trifle for the Swedish newspapers, which were mildly amused by the story of two bad-luck bums wandering around in bad times. There was one no­table exception: the finest critic of the day, Bengt Idestam-Almqvist (writing under the pen name Robin Hood), sensed a “deep dissatisfaction”: “Bendel is the only the­atrical figure in the film. A Jew thrust into a Swedish setting, he is a powder keg, a black villain. As one of the protagonists, it is appropriate that he is depicted as a dirty, frizzy-haired, creepy, rascally Jew, i.e. as a controversial foil exactly like the press, taking their cue from Hitler’s black­balling, liked to present the Israelites. Semmy Friedmann greatly exaggerates the character’s Jewishness, unnecessarily overdramatizing Bendel as a stereotype. In my opinion, his portrayal is one of the film’s weaknesses”.