Very pretty, very touching, but little substance

I went to see The Book Thief this afternoon.  Like a few films I've seen lately, it was very well made, and beautifully photographed in particular, but ultimately rather unsatisfying.  Set in Germany in the immediate pre-war and early war period, the film is about Liesel, the daughter of a communist, who is sent to live with a foster family.  Unable to read, she is mocked by all of her schoolmates, bar neighbour Rudy, who has a crush on her.  She learns to read with alacrity, thanks to the tuition of her foster father; develops a fascination for reading, thanks, in part, to seeing a bonfire of books; and learns about injustice, thanks to Max, a young Jewish man being sheltered by her new family.  At the end of the films everyone dies: this isn't a spoiler, as the film is framed by a voiceover narrative from the personification of death, who reminds us right at the start that everyone dies eventually.

Ultimately, that is it: everyone dies eventually.  It's a universal truth; it's of universal relevance; but, I didn't need to sit through a two-hour film to be told this.  

Other than the ubiquity of death, we see the world divided into goodies - liberal, essentially kind-hearted (even if they hide it under a gruff exterior) and individualist by temperament and baddies - prejudiced, domineering and with a tendency to follow the crowd.  In Nazi Germany this means that only Liesel, her family and her admirer Rudy express any reservations about the burning of books, persecution of Jews and other minorities, and the war with Britain (and America, who ahistorically liberate Liesel's unidentified German town).  I'm by no means an expert on Twentieth-century German history, but I suspect it was more complicated than that.

The only undercurrent comes from the casting: Liesel and Rudy are played by the prettiest blonde children, while Rudy, a strong runner, has a fascination with Jessie Owens: he reenacts Owens' triumph at the 1936 Olympics, after rolling in mud in order to look black.  The intention here is honourable, but left me slightly queasy: giving the film the benefit of the doubt, I would like to think that discomfort was the intended effect in what is otherwise a rather bland film.