Sorry to leave you guys in the lurch the past week — I was away for the holiday and wasn’t able to watch any television in a timely manner. But, I was fortunate enough to attend a screening of The Reader, The Weinstein Company’s new film starring Ralph Fiennes and Kate Winslet. There’s been a ton of buzz surrounding this film recently, most of it concerning the behind-the-scenes antics of producer Harvey Weinstein and his rush to release the film before the end of the year. For those of you who don’t know, Harvey Weinstein is notorious for being a really despicable guy who squashes anyone and anything in his path in his quest for cinematic domination of the world. Nikki Finke has covered this story extensively, from Weinstein’s battle with co-producer Scott Rudin, which lead Rudin, one of Hollywood’s most prolific and respected producers, to remove his name from the film, to Weinstein’s harassment of other producer, the late Sydney Pollack, on his deathbed. In the end, it appears that Weinstein won out against Rudin and director Stephen Daldry, as the film will be released this month.
Unfortunately, the film could’ve used the extra time in the editing room for which Rudin and Daldry so desperately fought. What could’ve been a great film is relegated to only being a good one, due almost entirely to the fragmented and disconnected execution of the narrative, a problem that more time and careful consideration in post-production might have solved, or at least reduced.
Adapted from German author Bernhard Schlink’s NY Times Bestseller of the same name (“Der Vorleser” in German), The Reader examines the relationship between a German law student and the older female ex-S.S. Officer with which he has a life-changing summer romance. The film deals deftly with the themes of guilt and understanding, posing many questions, but answering few. Which is more important: the admission of guilt or an understanding of the motivation behind the transgression? Can love overpower guilt? Do the laws of men take precedence over the laws of morality?
It’s very intriguing subject matter, and director Stephen Daldry (The Hours, Billy Elliot) handles it with aplomb. He and DP Chris Menges follow beautiful shot after beautiful shot– young Michael Berg floating in the ocean, aimless and drifting; the trolleys rushing by Hanna Schmitz’s bewildered face; Michael’s hand on the concentration camp gate. One can only wistfully imagine the tremendous cut Daldry might’ve delivered if given enough time.
Where the suffers is in its attempt to wed two unequally balanced stories together. The first two thirds of the film, which cover Michael and Hanna’s affair and Hanna’s trial, are absolutely riveting. David Kross, as young Michael, is terrific. It’s sad that because Ralph Fiennes and Kate Winslet are the movie stars, Kross’s name isn’t even mentioned above the title, though this film tells his story and so clearly belongs to him. He sucks us in immediately– we care about him and we care for him. Kate Winslet, in this portion of the film, is also very, very good. She says more with her silence than she does with her words, which is certainly not an easy task for any actor. Plus, she’s often naked, which certainly didn’t detract from my enjoyment of the movie.
The plot moves along at a perfect pace, and the film’s balance between plot and character study is spot on. We want to know what happens, and more importantly for a successful drama, we want to know why. The characters and questions raised by their interactions and choices are quite compelling. Approaching the 85 minute mark or so, this is an A level movie.
Then, where before we’d been almost exclusively following past Michael with just a few jumps to present Michael thrown in, we abandon young Michael to focus solely on Ralph Fiennes’s adult Michael, and this is where the movie falters. David Kross’s Michael bares no resemblance whatsoever to Ralph Fiennes’s Michael, except for a few physical similarities. They feel like two completely different people, and thus, when the story shifts focus to Fiennes, we simply don’t care.
Moreover, the action in the final third feels more like an epilogue than the actual meat of the tale. It feels tacked on and unnecessary, especially the stuff dealing with Michael’s daughter, who has no bearing on the main story whatsoever. Also, Kate Winslet, though one of my favorite actresses, does not pull off the hardest part of her role, playing the elderly Hanna. Her make-up is astoundingly good, especially her wrinkled hands and feet, for an 80 or 90 year old woman. But Hanna is only supposed to be about 60 at the time, and though prison can be tough on a woman’s physique, I don’t think it ages a woman 20 extra years. More importantly, make-up aside, her acting just doesn’t pass muster. She speaks and carries herself like young Hanna and is not the least bit believable. I found myself wishing for Marion Cotillard, who was flat out astonishing in her Oscar-winning turn as Edith Piaf, at all ages of her life, in last year’s La Vie En Rose. Winslet’s shortcomings really made me appreciate (even more than I already did) just how stunning Cotillard’s work was (if you haven’t seen the movie yet, get off your ass at Netflix that ish). Ralph Fiennes does a serviceable job, but by the time he takes over the story, he’s more of an afterthought and his already soft spoken character’s impact on the film is minimal.
The last 30-40 minutes of the film, squashed ungracefully with the marvelous narrative of the first two-thirds, bring this film down from Oscar-bait to pretty good film with a high pedigree. Kross and Daldry turn in Oscar-ballpark work, but the film’s fizzle at the end really undercuts the movie’s overall effect, and the Best Director and Best Supporting Actor fields are too jam packed for a movie with as weak an impact as The Reader for these two guys to stick.
It’s a strong movie, and an enjoyable one, but not one that’s likely to stay with you past your drive home from the cinema.
Grade: B
