“The Book Thief”
Directed by Brian Percival
Starring Sophie Nélisse, Geoffrey Rush, Emily Watson, Roger Allam, Nico Liersch, Kirsten Block
Drama, War
131 Mins
PG-13

It’s not the first time we’ve seen a World War II movie rife with Holocaust themes and the omnipresent horrors of war nor will it be the last, but The Book Thief manages a healthy dose of thoughtful introspection and rock solid performances amidst extraneous narration a la the Grim Reaper. This narrative tactic might have worked fine in book form but in the film only serves to interrupt the sense of immediacy inherent to the lifeblood of film. Death the narrator comes in unannounced to smooth over the rough edges, blunting the emotion impact of sequences that should have been the most shocking and gut-wrenching. Each time the film reaches an emotional apex, Death takes the stage and narrates us through what we ought to be feeling like we’re reading a storybook about pretty ponies.

There is nothing wrong with finding beauty in death (look no further than American Beauty for proof) but this heavy-handed dictation is not the way to go about it. All attempts to undercut the passing of life with this kind of silver-lining holistic circle of life BS just reaps diminishing emotional return and sours the visceral oomph that the actors have worked so duteously to illicit. Blending high-art performances with scribbling story-booking, the prospects of greatness sour like milk in the sun. It’s truly a shame because there are elements of excellence peppered throughout the film and the inherent power of WWII’s history, which is never something to balk at, is explored from an interesting internal perspective.

More than anything, the film could have used a more thorough editorial sweep to really hone in on tonal consistency as some elements, such as the grating voice over, jut out like sore thumbs. Rather than tug us deeper into the emotional climaxes, the premeditated status of “death as inevitability” only serves to only take us out of the moment and draws our attention to the bumbling, childlike side of the storytelling. When the saga should soar, it instead sags.

Based on the 2006 novel that stretches 550 pages long, The Book Thief begins with a slow pan through the billowy smoke of a train tumbling towards Germany like a black bullet. On that train rides Liesel, a shy illiterate girl, and her younger brother. Before they arrive at their destination, Liesel’s little brother dies, presumably a result of malnutrition sustained during his lengthy journey through the bowels of pre-war Germany, and sets in motion her vibrant and intuitive moral compass. On cue with her arrival to a country on the brink of a wicked social reinvention, the passing of Liesel’s younger sibling is an appropriate welcoming into this darkening realm that will soon breed sorrow and loss.

Although her adoptive mother, Rosa, is at first as stony as a Felsenbeisser, her new foster papa, Hans, is a heart barely dressed in human skin. He radiates love and understanding and quickly takes Liesel under his paternal wing, teaching her to read and cultivating her love of books and knowledge with his subterranean wall-to-wall chalkboard. Just bristling with spindles of affection, Geoffrey Rush is a fountain of warmth as Hans. His performance is perfectly balanced – a potpourri of optimism and grief, empathy and anguish. For as much eternal hope and internal goodness wells within him, he can’t help but recognize society morally melting around him.

And as cantankerous as foster mother Rosa (Emily Watson) may seem as first, her character arc is one of the most satisfying and nuanced of the film. Even young Sophie Nélisse is quietly magnetic as Liesel, transcending the label of child actress and putting in a performance well beyond her years. As 2013 ends, she ought to be positioned at the forefront of emerging young talent because her work here is nothing less than staggering. As much as we appreciate and empathize with the core supporting characters, it’s Nélisse who guides us through the visceral darkness – a beacon of light in a vacuum of hope.

As antisemitic currents sweep through Germany, Liesel intuitively picks up on the silent horror of a changing ethos. A scene where she is singing an ironically sweet, almost songbird, antisemitic anthem and then halts her warble mid-song picturesquely captures the dawning of a new understanding. All this preaching of hatred, however cloaked in the angelic voices of children, is poison.

But for every two steps forward the film takes in terms of thoughtful impact, it takes one back. Without fail, every time the story peaks, it reveals just how hard it’s trying to invoke an emotional reaction. Miscalculating more for more, the film has an unfortunate tendency to overstay its welcome and beat the dead horse black and blue. The most egregious instance of this comes in the final moment where the film pulls a Return of the King triple ending. Had it ended a scene or two earlier, sans voiceover, it would have been an extremely powerful and poignant statement. As it is, it’s overdrawn and self-defeating. Instead of going out with understated subtlety, it reminds you over and over again of its intention, as persistent as a politician.

Closing the book on this slipshod endeavor, The Book Thief is a film divided against itself. There are many elements of the film deserving of love but director Brian Percival is constantly sucking the wind from beneath his own wings. At once emotionally sound and fiercely melodramatic, the film, had it underwent a quick trip to the reel barber, could have been shaved into something truly excellent. As it stands, it’s modestly good and mildly powerful but lacking the vitality of a more tactful director.