The Reader

The Reader is a film in 3 acts, as are most films. However, this particular feature is distinct in that its 3 acts are clearly marked intervals of narrative that take place in unique setting and eras. In its seductive first act The Reader is an erotic coming of age story. 15 year-old Michael (David Kross) is aided by a stranger on the street (Kate Winslet) one day. He brings her flowers to thank her and the two end up forming a connection that ultimately leads to a sexual relationship. He finds her name is Hannah and she is nearly 20 years his senior. Act two features Michael, 7 years since parting with his older summer fling, attending law school and observing the trial of 6 women guards at Auschwitz. One of them, he is stunned to learn, is Hannah. In its close, the now imprisoned Hannah receives taped book readings from Michael (she loves to be read to) and, in this way, their bond continues.

The film is mostly cerebral rather than gut wrenchingly emotional, but it does offer some fascinatingly complicated scenarios to consider, especially regarding the nature of justic and moral law. The opening flirtation objectively stings of scandal but subjectively seems tender and almost forgivable in its innocence. Hannah is not predatory but lonely and the bond she shares with the much younger Michael does not feel solely sex-based but deeply passionate. Its final notes -- Hannah bathing Michael and not so subtly washing out a milk jug -- call to mind something more maternal despite the couple's charged sexuality. Inappropriately maternal, certainly, but maternal, nonetheless.

The trial, like the seduction, offers questions of allegiance and moral judgment. Hannah has certainly commited unforgivable acts and yet she remains strangely sympathetic. It's a mean trick, but an enlightening one that once again puts traditional senses of right and wrong through the wringer. It's also the arc in which both Kate Winslet and David Kross do their best work. Winslet gives as fabulous a performance as you would expect her to give when supplied with a character this complex. She is so riveting and so real that she makes the whole film feel sharper than it is, more believable too. Kross, a young unknown of only 18 years, is the true lead of the film (if there is one). His Michael grounds the film and steers us through the years (until later when the character is played by an able but less indelible Ralph Fiennes). It's a stunning breakout performance that ranges from young and charming to tortured and emotionally deep. That his name has not come up in a single discussion of potential award nominees speaks to the excessive influence of celebrity.

The first two sections of the film are far more compelling than the unaffecting and unsatisfying finale, which feels like a sullen dead end. A lot of the film, beautifully lit by veteran Roger Deakins, feels too refined and stoic where it needs to be raw and gritty, but the turgid conclusion takes the faux art cake. I'll refrain from spoiling the events of the third act for it holds the most surprises (in all the worst ways). What I will say is that it doesn't offer climax but rather empty tragedy. When it really needs a human moment to bring its heady themes of ethics and traditional justice down to the ground, it simply sinks further into downtrodden melodrama. Everything is miserable and yet their is not a heartstring stirred. Michael's coming to terms with his troubled mistress is made so slow and so ambiguous that their connection, once vibrant, now registers as token plot. There's something vaguely touching about it, but only vaguely. The bottom line is that this is Oscar bait with a capital O.

Thankfully, the film's stronger moments (there are more than a few) and its fabulous performances keep it capably afloat even if they are unable to raise it to the level of something extraordinary. A masterpiece this is not, but I'd still take this flawed think piece over a mediocre popcorn flick any day.

Grade: B