Review: "The Book Thief"

We can never run out of World War II films because it was the most transformative event in recent history, and possibly the entirety of human existence. They could release a movie about the war every day for the rest of my life, and we still would never have adequately captured the extent of human misery compressed into those six years.

Certainly, I would never tire of them.

“The Book Thief” comes at the war from the perspective of an intelligent, sensitive German girl who comes to live with her foster parents in a small village. The war, seemingly distant and only distasteful, comes to relentlessly dominate the lives of the townspeople. While many knuckle under the Nazi regime, children like Liesel and a few brave adults find ways to stand up without getting knocked down.

Director Brian Percival and screenwriter Michael Petroni, adapting the award-winning book by Markus Zusak, go for a straightforward approach – focusing on the children with the grown-ups occupying the background. The result is simple, plaintive, a bit on the sappy side but also burning brightly with heartfelt emotions.

The performances really push the experience, especially young French-Canadian Sophie Nélisse as Liesel and Geoffrey Rush as her foster father, Hans. Emily Watson also shines as her churlish foster mother, Rosa, though it’s a less showy part.

Roger Allam provides the seductive, slithery voice of Death, who narrates the proceedings and claims many victims throughout the course of the story. The first is Liesel’s brother, who dies along their journey to their new foster parents. At the hasty funeral she steals her first book, a guide to grave digging, something that eventually becomes her signature habit.

Her greeting upon being presented to her foster parents is huffy indignation from Rosa, who was expecting two children – and the commensurate stipend from the state that came with them. She’s a harsh disciplinarian and treats Hans with the smallest measure of kindness possible.

Hans is quite a character, a shy, passive man who accepts his wife’s many abuses without complaint, but secretly harbors the soul of an artist. His only real talent is with the accordion, and his working life is spotty at best.

He becomes Liesel’s guardian angel and supporter, quietly encouraging her rebellious ways. She begins sneaking into the library of the town’s burgermeister to read his books – later, with the tacit approval of his wife. When the Third Reich begins holding rallies in town, she scavenges a charred book from the pile that has been burned as too dangerous for people to read.

Liesel’s journey from girl to woman takes a big step when a young Jewish man, Max (Ben Schnetzer), shows up on their doorstep looking for refuge. The son of a man who saved Hans’ life during the First World War, he is ensconced in the basement as their hideaway and Liesel’s secret tutor.

She also finds a strange allure to Rudy (Nico Liersch), the boy who lives next door, and they form a relationship that’s part friendship, part rivalry and the chaste beginnings of an adolescent romance. The very picture of Aryan youth, Rudy is a star athlete who draws the eye of Nazi recruiters, but he secretly idolizes Jesse Owens.

I enjoyed “The Book Thief” and its performances, though the film carries a sort of restrained reverence for its subject matter that is a little maudlin. Still, here’s another wonderful tale from amidst the horror.

Review: "Monsieur Lazhar"

In "Monsieur Lazhar," the eponymous Bachir Lazhar has the ideal temperament to be a teacher. A reserved man who holds respect and courtesy as almost sacred ideas, he adores children (though not in a creepy way) and values knowledge and learning.

Lazhar shows up at a Montreal school a week or so after a horrendous event: a popular teacher has committed suicide, hanging herself in her classroom while the children are at recess. One can only fathom the mind of a person who commit such a gruesome act with the obvious intention that her students discover her that way.

Lazhar (Mohamed Fellag) is an immigrant from Algiers, and claims 19 years of teaching at university. The harried principal (Danielle Proulx), desperate both to protect the psychologically wounded children and to get bureaucratic pressures off her back, hires him as the replacement.

Cultural differences, not to mention the understandably extreme emotional turmoil of the class, make for rough going at first. Lazhar gives one unruly boy and light cuff on the back of the head, and learns that the Canadian educational system frowns upon such things. Indeed, political correctness has taken things to such an unwieldy extreme, teachers are not allowed to touch students at all -- even disallowing the P.E. coach from steadying a child during gymnastics exercises.

This is a film of quiet joys and hidden sadness, of frustrations that bubble to the surface and emotions kept carefully tucked away. "Monsieur Lazhar" was an Oscar nominee for best foreign language film, and its spare grace is easy to see.

Writer/director Philippe Falardeau mimics the reserve of his main character, eschewing loud emotional epiphanies for moments of quiet struggle and resolution. The result is a movie lacking sweeping, syrupy catharsis -- and sometimes that's a good thing.

Two students among the 11- and 12-year-olds stand out from the rest. Alice (Sophie Nélisse) is the smartest in the class, and also the most willful. She approaches the suicide with a forthright maturity lacking among the students -- and even the adults.

Simon (Émilien Néron) is the class cut-up, whose jokes have taken on a nasty, bullying tinge as of late. He was especially close to his former teacher, and takes her death as some sort of attack.

In terms of plot, there really isn't much. Falardeau focuses almost exclusively on the school and its lessons, though there are a few scenes that give some insight into Lazhar's mysterious background, which contains its own tidal forces of sadness.

"Monsieur Lazhar" reminds me somewhat of "The Illusionist," a French animated film that was nominated for its own Oscar a couple of years ago. It's the sort of rare movie that chooses not to focus on the dramatic, pivotal moments that happen in life, but what comes after. It's not the wave crashing upon the shore, but the gradual receding back into the ocean.

3 stars out of four