The Reader

At the very least, The Reader is a love story. It begins when Michael Burk (David Kross) is 15 and Hanna Schmitz (Kate Winslet) is in her mid-thirties. Set in Germany about ten years after the end of World War II, the story progresses in time, but flashes back to earlier scenes throughout the story.

The Reader addresses themes of love, justice, duty, and morality--all intermeshed. There is no clear path, no obvious resolution of how the characters, or we as the audience, should feel. We are introduced to these themes with the affair between Michael and Hanna. "Kid," she calls him.

Although many of us would likely question the morality of such a relationship between a boy and mature woman, it's nearly impossible not to see the strangely innocent beauty of their liaison. Hanna introduces Michael to his own sexuality, but it is also through her that he begins to experience and understand romantic love. Her love and attention spark a newfound confidence in him. He blossoms through his affair with her. So it is not simply the sexual hunger of a boy discovering his manhood under the steady guidance of a beautiful woman; but rather a boy becoming a man through the emotions he feels for her.

Transcending the limitations of his youth, Michael is able to give Hanna something more important than his body. He reads to her, imparting worlds that go far beyond the limitations of her abilities, her knowledge, and her experiences. He reaches emotions that are buried deep in her. He sees all this, quietly, and like so many things about her, he accepts it. But there is so much unsaid between them, so much about her he doesn't understand.

The story unfolds as a series of profound and provoking dilemmas. We are given the fascinating opportunity to consider what judgments we would make of situations that have no clear-cut answers. Interestingly enough, Michael's (Ralph Fiennes) profession as an adult is that of judge. So his dilemma in making judgment is compounded by the possible conflict between what constitutes the judicial (and even moral) "right" and what his own emotions will or will not allow him to feel.

Even love can be a moral dilemma, as we see in the relationship between Hanna and Michael. When someone you love acts in a way that is contrary to the very essence of what you believe to be true and just, can you continue to love that person. And if you do, can you forgive yourself for it?

Germany faces continuing haunts and collective guilt from the war--the horrors of the death camps, the lasting imprint of a time when even the most unspeakable crimes were attributed to the credos of duty and following orders. Blind obedience in the face of moral dilemma. When Hanna is being tried in a courtroom, she asks her judge, "What would you have done?" And we find ourselves, almost embarrassedly, trying to answer that question for ourselves. And we acknowledge that perhaps we may not have acted any differently than the accused.

Directed magnificently by Stephen Daldry, The Reader is the kind of film that stays with you and grows more beautiful with time--its loveliness and sad poignancy unfolding like the infinite petals of a rose. And such was Ms. Winslet's performance. The depth and raw truth she brought to this performance are surely worthy of an Oscar. Both Grouse and Fiennes turn in stellar performances as Michael. But Grouse's sensitive and persuasive performance as the young Michael deserve special praise. He develops quite convincingly from age 15 to early 20s. And his ability to convey such subtle differences in demeanor and facial expression as he grows older and more knowledgeable are a testament to his craft.

Revolutionary Road

While watching Revolutionary Road, based on the novel by Richard Yates, I found myself somewhat annoyed by the staginess of it. It was almost as if I were watching a play, not a film. The performances were pushed somewhat out of proportion—larger than life in a way that is seen in theater, not the more intimate, seemingly voyeuristic experience we are used to in the cinema. But almost like a wine that is at its best after it has had a chance to breathe, this film keeps growing on me as the scenes replay in my mind.

I’m beginning to see that the theatrical elemnt is really an extension of what made the characters tick. So to have the actors ‘act’ in this way is really an extension of who they are, each playing out what is expected of them in their lives. Although April Wheeler (Kate Winslet), breaks out of this mold. She is the rebel, the revolutionary on Revolutionary Road.

April's husband, Frank Wheeler (Leonardo diCaprio) must prove his manhood, his success in business, his dominance over his wife, simply because that’s what a male is supposed to do in America in the mid-1950s. April, a would-be actress, sees the suburban life as a death and something she desperately wants Frank and herself to break free from. But eventually she comes to understand that it isn't something Frank can so easily do.

The myth of suburbia—with its manicured lawns and shuttered houses, its concerned and helpful neighbors present all too alluring a picture to Frank. And although April takes him back to when they met and when Frank was a budding man of the world with dreams that could take the two of them anywhere, “life happened.” The two are victims of circumstance, the power of the majority, the comfort of what is already known.

Directed by Sam Mendes, both diCaprio and Winslet perform their roles with provoking and often painstaking intensity. Michael Shannon as the mentality ill son of the Wheeler’s over-zealous real estate agent provides a gloomy affirmation of April’s vision of the suburbs as a place where dreams are scorned and vanquished. And David Harbour as Shep Campbell, the neighbor who lusts after April and who provides a momentary release and distraction for her, seems to have emigrated straight from the 50s. He’s got the swagger of the American male of that time, the obvious buy-in to the American dream, and the demeanor of a family guy who is only too willing to stay at the party a little too long while his wife goes home to the kids.

Revolutionary Road, the novel, is considered by James Wood of the New Yorker, and apparantly by many others, as Yates’ best. The story is a statement of the American post-war era of the mid-fifties and delves deeply into the collective and individual treatment of gender, of conformity, and of the bittersweet comfort of letting go to conformity versus the excitement and loneliness of breaking free.