I swear my wife knows everyone. So, I
should not have been too surprised when she announced that, thanks to her
friend Tiffany Masterson, we would be attending a special screening of the
movie The Book Thief. What did surprise me was how deeply the movie
touched me, and the fact that I had not read the book. (Shame on me!)
We never experience life in a vacuum.
Everything we do and everything that happens to us is tainted by the events around
us that shape and frame our experience. At face value, the movie, and story, is
about a young orphan girl in Nazi Germany that learns to read and then becomes
so passionate about reading that she is willing to steal books. But since she
is in the middle of a war, it is much more than the simple coming-of-age story.
Likewise, my opportunity to attend a
special screening of the movie did not happen in a vacuum. It was a very hectic
day. I had several projects to finish, the chief of which was refurbishing an
old bed I made twenty-four years ago so my daughter could use it. It was a
labor of love, but when you have a deadline, it’s work. Right before the movie,
we attended the same daughter’s last volleyball game of the season. It was a
special event in which the two rival teams wore pink and honored breast cancer
survivors. I didn’t want to miss it since my mother and my mother-in-law are
both breast cancer survivors. Unfortunately, my daughter’s team lost, and I had
to comfort her.
In the middle of the game, my
soccer-playing son came limping into the gym. He had damaged his foot and ankle
during practice. Since I was focused on my daughter’s game, I didn’t give his
injury the attention he felt it deserved. A family quarrel ensued. By the time
we got back to the house and prepared to leave for the movie, the quarrel had
heated up. I almost didn’t make it to the event. I was still angry when I
pulled out of the driveway.
Leave it to my wife to not only get
us into a special screening, but to also get us VIP status. We were the first
people into the theater, thanks to Tiffany. We were joined by several of my
wife’s girlfriends. However, all the husbands, except for my buddy Wade, stayed
away because the last game of the World Series was on. I grabbed some greasy
theater food, and settled down to experience the story.
The Book Thief is a story about young Liesel Meminger who finds solace
in reading stolen books and sharing them with others during the horrors of WWII
Germany. What makes this coming-of-age story unique is that Death himself
narrates the story, because he is so intrigued by her life. Several times in the
story we get a firsthand account of what it’s like to take the soul from the
body and bear it home.
The first thing that I noticed about
the movie was the attention to detail. Unlike some popular movies about
historical events that paint the scenes with a broad brush, this movie used the
small fine bristled brushes to create detail in vivid and authentic strokes.
These intricate details included but were not limited to – the locomotive
belching out steam and smoke, the era-appropriate clothing, the uniforms of the
soldiers and officials, the labels on food bins in the kitchen, and the wedding
on the right hand of Hans, the foster father (the common custom in
Germany especially during that period). You felt transported to the very time
and place with the pan of the camera. Details can make or break a movie, or
book, but The Book Thief delivered, by painstakingly ensuring that the
details were authentic.
The pacing of the movie was slow, but
appropriate, never letting you feel impatient with the story. If you like
fast-paced action movies that use pyrotechnic explosions, elaborate stunts, and
car chases to create suspension and action, then you will probably be
disappointed. However, if you like a movie that can propel you forward and keep
you on the edge of your seat with the strength of the story, then you will love
The Book Thief. The pacing moves like the steady current of a river,
never rushing you along, but never allowing you to stagnate or hang up in the
driftwood along the banks. The rhythm of the film allows you the time to absorb
the emotion of each scene without letting you linger in overdramatic pauses.
The actor’s performances were
outstanding, particular Sophie Nélisse’s portrayal of Liesel Meminger. Her eyes
were so expressive and curious, like lenses that captured everything in her
world with wonder. Sometimes child actors behave more like adults than
children, but not so with her performance. Additionally, Geoffrey Rush
delivered an excellent portrayal of Hans Hubermann, Liesel’s foster father.
Granted, he portrayed a character you couldn’t help but like, but he did it
with grace, wit, and a sense of presence on screen that drew me into the
emotion of each scene he was a part of. Emily Watson also portrayed Rosa
Hubermann, the foster mother with the hard shell, so well that it made me
uncomfortable. The entire cast delivered and brought the dialogue to life.
I especially enjoyed the ironies
present in the story – Death himself narrating a story about how to live your
life; A young girl hungering to read in a time when they burned books; An
outcast helping her to fit into society in her own way; A street called Heaven
Street in the middle of a hellish war; Stealing books instead of food in a time
of starvation; Two of Hitler’s Youth screaming “I hate Hitler!” at the top of
their lungs; Destroying all reason for hope in order to find hope. These
pleasant ironies added to the movie’s charm.
Liesel learned the value of reading in a time of war. She learned of writing in a time of great emotional crisis. The words on the pages gave her life meaning. In essence, the words were life. After the viewing they asked us to
write one word on a chalkboard to describe the movie. I wrote the word
“Authentic.” My wife wrote the word “Life.”
If you enjoy an emotional movie with
a powerful and moving story line, go see The Book Thief.
We never experience our life in a
vacuum. As I drove home, I pondered the scenes of the movie that touched me. I
thought about the argument with my son. I reflected on the love for reading and
writing that my parents nurtured in me by having a house full of books, even
when we had little else.
When I got home, I went and found my
son. I apologized, and we made amends. Life is too short to give any life to
ugly words when we have so many beautiful words worthy of living. I told my
daughter I was proud of her efforts to honor those whose lives were affected by
breast cancer. Words of peace and hope had been restored to my home.
Before I went to bed, I
opened an email from my older sister. Over a year ago my mother’s cancer
returned. The email was an update about her worsening condition. I smiled, because I knew that no matter what happened at this point, my mother, like
Liesel Meminger, has certainly intrigued Death with the full life she has lived. He will be waiting to carry her soul to Heaven Street, and it will be
light.
