So randomly I picked out the screenplay of ‘The Reader’ from my bookshelf and ended up reading it all within a couple of hours. I’d seen the film before of course and I’d really liked it, but I was so moved by the powerfulness of the screenplay alone. David Hare writes so beautifully, like he paints with words. He doesn’t go on and on describing things, but every word is meaningful and chosen carefully, giving so much sub-text. I re-watched the film because I was so moved, and I found it a more powerful experience then when I watched it for the first time several years ago. With film of course you aren’t given the pleasure of a first-person narrative where thoughts and feelings are written, but just as well as the screenplay, the visual codes and the expressions and the silences and the music give so much sub-text, it’s like it’s all about to burst into your face. Really great performances from all of the cast by the way. And what greatly written characters in the first place. Such beautifully written complexities, sensitivities and entrapments… I haven’t read the novel so I might be talking a lot of shite but bear with. I also have close to no knowledge of history and am quite naïve and stupid overall. I may also waffle on too much and then suddenly resort to silly conclusions such as “what is love, anyway?” but bear with that too. Despite all of my limitations I have absolutely no intention of offending anyone or being insensitive about the topics and themes of the story; if I do I’m very sorry.
Anthony Minghella, one of my favourite
screenwriter/directors had originally bought the rights to this film apparently,
I found out today. After 8 years he concluded that he wasn’t going to have
enough time to get round to writing it after all and handed the job to David
Hare. Unfortunately Minghella passed away during the making of this film.
So here are my very disorganised thoughts:
“Societies think they operate by something called morality.
But they don’t. They operate by something called law. You’re not guilty of
anything merely by working at Auschwitz .” And that is what
Hanna Schmitz was doing. As were so many of the guards. Is this why it had
taken so long for people to start looking back and judge what had taken place? “What
would you have done?” Hannah asks the judge, to which he does not answer. “Should
I never have signed up at Siemens?” Otherwise, how were people able to let it
happen? Whatever film we watch or book we read involving the holocaust, this is
the ultimate question we ask. But the film does not ask the audience to
understand or forgive any of the characters. It might dare us to feel a hint of
sympathy for Hanna, and this feeling of unease is, perhaps, one of the unique
elements and beauties of this story. It asks us so many questions and leaves us
to make our own interpretations. The only certainty we are shown is when Michael
begins to tell his story to his daughter at the end of the film; “in telling is
the release, importance and understanding” says the director. Michael had led a
concealed life of secrecy, just like the protagonists of the stories he read
aloud to Hanna: Odysseus, Hamlet, Faust… (I don’t exactly remember what
these were altered to in the film, I have the screenplay here in front of me). “I
knew you were distant”, his daughter says to him. “I’d always assumed it was my
fault.” This distant character of his may be what led to the failure of his
marriage. There is a line in the screenplay, in the will written by Hanna,
which was excluded from the film but I thought was important. “And tell Michael
I said hello. Tell him to get on with his life.” Michael was never able
to forget or move on. Hanna knew this of course, and had always felt guilty
about it. As well as all the ‘worse’ things she’d done. She kills herself as
she does not have anything more to live for, no more tapes, no more Michael
reading. It doesn’t matter what she feels or thinks. “The dead are still dead.”
And she didn’t want to be a burden to Michael, remaining in his life forever.
So almost light-heartedly she writes: “Tell him to get on with his life.” I can
picture her saying that, “Get on with your life, kid.” And I wish they’d kept
that in because I think it’s powerful. “Have you spent much time thinking about
the past?” Michael asks Hanna, but also to himself. He constantly fights battles
in his head, of wanting to forget, not being able to forget, wanting to try to
understand, not wanting to forgive. This is my take anyway. “How do you live in
the shadow of one of the greatest crimes in history?” How do you judge someone?
How do you love in circumstances such as these? Is it really possible? What does
one do when a certainty or truth they’d thought existed is not actually there
at all?
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