The flaws in the reader are glaring. A trial examines a character’s involment in the holocaust setting up themes of morality and shame that drive the second half of the film. How do you come to terms with caring for someone who committed such atrocities? How does a nation cope with the guilt? Apparently by exchanging platitudes in a law school classroom debate (led by a competely wasted and bored Bruno Ganz) where the lead character decides to remain silent. It’s regretable that these flaws serve as the downfall for this film rather than an extension of it’s mediocrity. They would be much easier to swallow that way. Since the first half of The Reader centers around the most effective human romance story of the year (WallE was a robot).
In 1958 Germany, fifteen-year-old Michael Berg (a strong David Kross) meets Hana Schmitz (the impeccable Kate Winslet) a kind, stern woman of about 40. A random act of kindness prompts Michael to nervously return to Hanna’s apartment where she catches him a sneaking a peek at her nylons (ah to be young) and it sends him running. With no real intentions, or at least no concept how to act on them he returns a second time. This strange courtship continues until she suddenly makes a pass so forward on paper it would read like a bad porn. Preposterous, but executed with just the right balance of awkward, erotic and bizarre to make it believable, the lovers embody all the giggling and gasping excitement of a forbidden romance. Some of the scenes are so explicitly intimate they induce guilty feelings of voyeurism.
Other than the joys of the flesh the activity the two enjoy is literature. Michael reads his prep school assignments (hence the title) to Hanna in a familiar but very effective montage featuring the luminous face of Winslet absorbing Micheal’s tales. This serves as a their romantic throughline and is ultimately redeeming in the latter parts of the film.
When summer ends and the relationship fizzles Michael finds himself in Law School. The “progressive” environment of the 60s takes precedence over what is eating Micheal’s insides. Sadly, that preference is never returned until we are barely interested anymore.
While sitting in on a Nazi trial for class, Hanna reenters Micheal’s life. It seems she was a guard at a Nazi camp and she and a number of her compatriots are finally getting justice. This is where the aforementioned derailment takes place as Micheal is reduced to a slumping prop. In the presence of a tour-de-force testimony (Winslet resists the usual territory for these types of scenes) without Micheal’s perspective the film turns it’s attentions to the holocaust and it’s affect on the characters and the country. All this was already on the periphery, I don’t see what was gained by drowning out Michael’s voice. The scenes border on didactic and are far too on the nose.
The next time Micheal commits any actions of consequence he’s aged into Ralph Fiennes and Hanna is in prison. With some gestures that could induce gags or sniffles depending on your mood (sniffles for me) the last act is simultaneously compelling and maddening as it turns into a piece about reflection and regret. It is ironic that the first half of the film shot with shimmering nostalgia and swelling music seemed the most immediate.
Finally, this is a frustrating film that will be categorized with some of the other handsome productions that fell short of their lofty expectations, including Ms. Winselt’s other endeavor “Revolutionary Road,” “Doubt,” and “Frost/Nixon.”
I enjoyed all of these films and would happily revisit them all. But I generally agree with the consensus that they where just a little too careful to have any lingering impact. I give more credit to “The Reader” though. It reaches at some more delicate, ambiguous areas, or I should say approaches them more delicately. The rush of Michael and Hanna’s first encounter is one I’ll not soon forget. Or maybe I’m just giving it a pass because I’m in love with Kate Winslet.