The Reader Movie Review
Directed by Stephen Daldry
The Reader is the sort of film that tackles big themes with a capital 'B'. In the mix are copious amounts of sex and nudity, German guilt and the Holocaust, as well as a boy having an affair with a woman twice his age. It's a heady brew, a film that screams 'Oscar-bait' and one presented in predictably self-important fashion by director Daldry.
Excellent Oscar winning performance
However this isn't to dismiss the films inherent qualities, most notably the performances. Kate Winslet adds another challenging role to her resume (plus another BAFTA win) as Hanna Schmitz, a German woman who begins a passionate relationship with aspiring law student Michael Berg (David Kross). The sexually charged affair is broken up by interludes where Michael reads to Hanna. It turns out the woman is illiterate but worse revelations are to come when she disappears from his life, only to reappear years later on trial for war crimes...
Based on Bernhard Schlink's novel, Daldry's film is heavily indebted to its literary origins, all sterile, static outpourings of anguish that no doubt were more effective in their original incarnation but here come across as somewhat hollow and cold. The film skirts with controversial, challenging topics but the emotional pull is void.
It's left largely up to the actors to provide the much needed human dimension. Kross is unexpectedly excellent as a boy whose personal anguish over the doomed affair is thrown into sharp relief by the public outrage over Hanna's alleged crimes. Ralph Fiennes has a thankless role as the older Michael, framing the meat of the story with the now cliched present day perspective but he brings warmth, compassion and maturity to the role.
Complex but inaccessible Drama
Of course Winslet gets the flashiest character but what is most surprising is how little she features, meaning any potential screen-time has to resonate strongly. Thankfully she's up to the task, being particularly effective towards the films climax at generating sympathy for a pretty heinous character. In fact she is only hampered by some increasingly poor prosthetics work: never once do we doubt that we are watching a 30 year old under some latex (never do we also believe that Fiennes is in his 60s).
The final impression though is of a film so aware it is classy, competent and good looking, it ceases any connection with its audience. It's stimulating but not memorable; weighty but not moving. Much like the closed off character of Hanna herself, we try to get near but ultimately have to watch from afar.
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