Tuesday, June 10, 2014

The Book Thief (Movie Review by Bob Racine)



                                    2 hr & 11 min, color, 2013

How does a war picture become inspiring?  How do you depict the brutal realities of nations and peoples clashing with each other in deadly confrontation and still lift the viewer’s spirits?  How can images of destruction and holocaust bless the eyes that watch them unfold and lift hearts in hope and reverence?   Where do you go beyond the apparent, beyond the ugliness and inhumanity and devastation, to find enough of their opposites to reach the tender core inside all of us, however dormant that core may lie? 

One way is to place the viewer under the skin of a child, to let us see and hear and feel by way of the child’s eyes and ears and visceral intake.  The widely read novel “The Book Thief,” written by an Australian named Markus Zu, following the crisis-strewn path that an elementary school child has to travel in Nazi Germany in the early 1940s, has been adapted into a motion picture that penetrates as few war films have to bring us to the hallowed ground of our being and destiny.  I cannot imagine a war saga laden with so many individual deaths striking more upbeat chords. 

The child’s name is Liesl Meminger, a German youth given up for adoption for her own safety by her Communist mother who is being hunted by the Nazis.  She is played as close to perfection as a child performer can get by Sophie Nelisse.  The story concerns the imperiled life she falls into with her adoptive parents and the maturing of her spirit and soul over the years of the Second World War and its traumas.   

Four individuals play a vital part in her unstable and tumultuous life.  Two of course are the adoptive parents themselves.  The father Hans (Geoffrey Rush) from the very start is a loving individual, who seems to connect intuitively and empathetically with each crisis she faces and teaches her how to read, approaching her quite playfully, as if she brings out the aging child in him.  The mother Rosa (Edith Watson) at first is quite stern, not trusting Liesl and resentful of her background but in time comes to respect her and love her dearly.  Another is a boy her age, a school chum named Rudy (Nico Lersch), who befriends her the day she arrives and becomes somewhat protective of her until he realizes that she has as much grit as he does.  (Rudy undergoes a metamorphosis of change and awareness just as remarkable as hers.  Another movie, just as stirring, could be made in which he is the chief character.)  And perhaps most significant of all is a Jewish fellow named Max (Ben Schnetzer).  In return for Max’s father saving Hans’ life in the previous war, Hans unhesitatingly hides him in his home when the crackdown on Jews begins. 

As you can well imagine, Max’s entrance into the household compounds the stress they are already feeling just from the shortage of food, the uncertainty of the war effort and the scarcity of employment for Hans.  To all this is added the danger of detection and the subsequent imprisonment and possible death for them all as traitors to the Reich.  The crime of hiding Jews was one usually dealt with by the Nazis most severely.  Reluctantly they have to move Max down to their windowless basement, where it is easier to conceal him but where the dampness makes him sick – seemingly unto death, when they cannot wake him up.  What will they do if he dies?  “The smell would give us away” is Rosa’s keen observation.  Keeping him alive with their very limited resources causes wakeful hours during the night for everybody.   In the meantime, however, he and Liesl have formed a very special bond, one that draws forth her humanity and deepens her understanding of the power of words. 

Words!  That is what the film celebrates more than anything else.  Liesl, forced by her Nazi leaders to participate with the citizens of her town in a mass book burning, supposedly to cleanse their nation of corrupting influences, lingers behind, as the crowd finally disperses, and retrieves a scorched but still intact volume that catches her eye.  Thus begins her literary education, one further encouraged on the sly by the local Burgemeister’s wife, whose private library she is given access to when she delivers the laundry Rosa does for her.  Thus is born her private nickname, Book Thief, coined teasingly by her admiring friend Rudy, when she begins borrowing from that library quite freely.       

Max acquaints Liesl with a quote from Aristotle when he sees that she has a special gift for memorization.   “Memory is the scribe of the soul.”  This pearl of wisdom is given special shape in a scene that takes place in a bomb shelter, where all the neighbors are forced to spend a long fearful night, as the sounds of deadly warfare are heard doing their worst somewhere not far away.  She distracts everyone from their fear and dread and stone silence by reciting a story she has written herself, word for word, one that deeply absorbs most of the adults and soothes the other children, until they fall asleep.  She turns the darkness into light before the dawn summons them all out of their confinement.   

But let me assure everyone that Liesl is no Pollyanna.  This is not a movie on the order of those ridiculous ones made many years ago in which the child has knowledge superior to adults and becomes the premature, implausible voice of reason and reconciliation.  Liesl is quite human, very much a child and at first quite innocent.  She makes mistakes and does foolish things, one of which places her family in grave danger.  She takes some drastic chances, even breaking a promise of confidentiality.  It does not take much coaxing for her to get into a fight with a school mate.  And when disaster is visited upon her world, she proves quite vulnerable to grief.  A true child of adversity! 

The film has narration, mixed with a lovely score by John Williams, a deep, soothing, dreamy male voice that sounds deceptively inviting.  I have been debating whether or not to reveal in this review the identity of the narrator, only hinted at throughout the footage, never disclosed in so many words.  If I did, many would find it difficult to believe me.  It would sound incongruous with all I have said about the upbeat tone of the picture.  So I have opted for leaving those of you yet to screen the film to find out for yourselves.  By the last reel the voice should have ceased to incite any apprehension anyhow.  This unseen attendant’s presence will have come to seem quite appropriate to the circumstances.  

Dramatic and comedic elements mix quite tastefully at every turn, thanks both to the directorial skill of Bryan Perceval and the incisive writing of screenplay author Michael Petroni.  It is quite a story, one that is appropriately intense and suspenseful but one that honors both the living and the dead in a most unusual and satisfying way.  It should be easy to take for most family audiences, even with its tearful ending.  In case anyone is wondering, the dialogue is in English, not German.  So you do not have to anticipate the need for subtitles. 


To read other entries in my blog, please consult its website:  enspiritus.blogspot.com.  To learn about me consult on the website the blog entry for August 9, 2013.

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