When I finished reading Markus Zusak's novel, The Book Thief, for the first time, I couldn't speak for almost twenty minutes afterwards. I remained stunned, consumed by my thoughts, absorbed in Liesel's world and bereft as both the final chapter and an episode of my life ended.
Departing Brian Percival's film adaptation I just felt hollow.
The Book Thief is a remarkable story of Liesel Meminger (Sophie Nélisse), a young girl in pre-war Germany, whose communist mother sends her and her brother to live with foster parents. When her brother dies on the train and is hastily buried beside the railway track, the illiterate Liesel steals her first book as it falls from the gravedigger's coat. In this small act of deviance, Liesel finds her greatest resource for survival as World War II unfolds around her in a strange town. Pivotal in her life are her new parents, Hans (Geoffrey Rush) and Rosa Hubermann (Emily Watson), her newfound friend, Rudy (Nico Liersch), and Max (Ben Schnetzer), the Jew hiding under the stairs. And overseeing it all is Death.
Let's deal with him first of all. Certainly when one reads a fine novel images of characters are conjured that remain unique to the reader's imagination. However, no matter how fine an actor he may be, Death emphatically does not sound like Roger Allam. His narration is casual, almost suave, smug even, when the character of Death is written as an entity that is surprised and awed by Liesel and her effect on her little world and on himself. It is the first aspect of The Book Thief that jars, but it certainly isn't the last.
When Liesel arrives at the Hubermann's home, almost the first words out of Rosa's mouth are disgust-filled accusations that Liesel stinks and is flea-ridden. What a pity Percival and his costume and makeup departments didn't read the script prior to shooting the scene; Liesel is dressed impeccably, with tidy hair, not a speck of dirt upon her and giving every impression of being positively fragrant. With the exception of a solitary scene in the final act when Liesel and the townsfolk scrabble amongst rubble, every character is dressed in what appears to be new clothing. It is the correct period, certainly, but at a time of depression and austerity not a single threadbare coat, nor a loose string of wool, nor a tear, patch, smudge or stain is visible. Really?
As for Max, when he stumbles through the Hubermann's door, we are supposed to believe he is on his last legs. I don't look that healthy on a regular Monday morning! And when the comment is made that he is developing bedsores (because he is permanently prone), in the very next scene we watch him walk downstairs to the basement unaided! Sometimes the little things mean a lot and there are just too many little things in The Book Thief to overlook.
With the first impressions of a film being negative, it is a long hard trudge uphill to win the viewer over again. Alas, The Book Thief is not up to the task. The language issue is clumsily managed with German accents and periodic words and lines delivered in German instead of perhaps starting the film in German with subtitles to set the scene and the seamlessly segueing into English. It worked for Valkyrie
Mostly the acting is fine. The sets are well constructed, the props and Nazi regalia are accurate, the cinematography is adequate, the script flows reasonably smoothly But something substantial is missing from The Book Thief. It is empty, incomplete, like a wall built without mortar. The Book Thief is a body without a heart.
Occasionally a film gives a fair reflection of the source novel, The Shawshank Redemption perhaps chief amongst them. The Book Thief is not one of those films. Perhaps if I hadn't seen read the novel, this would be a six star film. However, it warrants no more than three stars for all that it could have been and should have been but absolutely isn't.
For lovers of Zusak's novel, only disappointment can follow. Don't do it. Keep your memories in tact.
And if you haven't read The Book Thief? Go. Do it. NOW!
For more reviews from The Squiss, subscribe to my blog and like the Facebook page.
Departing Brian Percival's film adaptation I just felt hollow.
The Book Thief is a remarkable story of Liesel Meminger (Sophie Nélisse), a young girl in pre-war Germany, whose communist mother sends her and her brother to live with foster parents. When her brother dies on the train and is hastily buried beside the railway track, the illiterate Liesel steals her first book as it falls from the gravedigger's coat. In this small act of deviance, Liesel finds her greatest resource for survival as World War II unfolds around her in a strange town. Pivotal in her life are her new parents, Hans (Geoffrey Rush) and Rosa Hubermann (Emily Watson), her newfound friend, Rudy (Nico Liersch), and Max (Ben Schnetzer), the Jew hiding under the stairs. And overseeing it all is Death.
Let's deal with him first of all. Certainly when one reads a fine novel images of characters are conjured that remain unique to the reader's imagination. However, no matter how fine an actor he may be, Death emphatically does not sound like Roger Allam. His narration is casual, almost suave, smug even, when the character of Death is written as an entity that is surprised and awed by Liesel and her effect on her little world and on himself. It is the first aspect of The Book Thief that jars, but it certainly isn't the last.
When Liesel arrives at the Hubermann's home, almost the first words out of Rosa's mouth are disgust-filled accusations that Liesel stinks and is flea-ridden. What a pity Percival and his costume and makeup departments didn't read the script prior to shooting the scene; Liesel is dressed impeccably, with tidy hair, not a speck of dirt upon her and giving every impression of being positively fragrant. With the exception of a solitary scene in the final act when Liesel and the townsfolk scrabble amongst rubble, every character is dressed in what appears to be new clothing. It is the correct period, certainly, but at a time of depression and austerity not a single threadbare coat, nor a loose string of wool, nor a tear, patch, smudge or stain is visible. Really?
As for Max, when he stumbles through the Hubermann's door, we are supposed to believe he is on his last legs. I don't look that healthy on a regular Monday morning! And when the comment is made that he is developing bedsores (because he is permanently prone), in the very next scene we watch him walk downstairs to the basement unaided! Sometimes the little things mean a lot and there are just too many little things in The Book Thief to overlook.
With the first impressions of a film being negative, it is a long hard trudge uphill to win the viewer over again. Alas, The Book Thief is not up to the task. The language issue is clumsily managed with German accents and periodic words and lines delivered in German instead of perhaps starting the film in German with subtitles to set the scene and the seamlessly segueing into English. It worked for Valkyrie
Mostly the acting is fine. The sets are well constructed, the props and Nazi regalia are accurate, the cinematography is adequate, the script flows reasonably smoothly But something substantial is missing from The Book Thief. It is empty, incomplete, like a wall built without mortar. The Book Thief is a body without a heart.
Occasionally a film gives a fair reflection of the source novel, The Shawshank Redemption perhaps chief amongst them. The Book Thief is not one of those films. Perhaps if I hadn't seen read the novel, this would be a six star film. However, it warrants no more than three stars for all that it could have been and should have been but absolutely isn't.
For lovers of Zusak's novel, only disappointment can follow. Don't do it. Keep your memories in tact.
And if you haven't read The Book Thief? Go. Do it. NOW!
For more reviews from The Squiss, subscribe to my blog and like the Facebook page.
