Michael Ondaatje:  I spent six years writing the book, The English Patient, the last two years of which were spent creating the only structure I thought it could have. So to turn around and dismantle that structure and put the head where the tail was… There’s no way I could have been objective and known what should go, what should stay.

WD:  Were you involved in the initial script development?

MO:  Quite a lot. Anthony Minghella, Saul Zaentz and I met every time there was a draft, and I think we worked well and adventurously together. The script felt “new,” and was not a “shadow” of the book. Because all three of us were working on something new it was a much more exciting project. I was amazed, right from the beginning, how Anthony got the voices, when Barnes meets Katherine and says, “Of course, I know your mother,” that sense of class knowledge of each other was caught perfectly. In any case, each time there was a new draft, we would meet up. It was a real education in terms of how a script gets tighter and tighter. Film is much tougher. I don’t think I could write a great chapter and then give it up because of the book’s overall time limitations, as you sometimes must do with entire scenes in film. That’s like a bad joke for a writer.

WD:  I run into so many people who, when they hear I’m involved with the film, say, “Oh, I loved the book.” And I get this sinking feeling, not out of disrespect to the movie, but that somehow they’re not going to see the book, not even a version of the book. They’ll see something that grew out of it.

MO: I feel the film has become something quite distinct, with its own DNA.

Read the full article HERE

Dr. Howard Suber, author of The Power of Film, says that the majority of all great films could be titled “Trapped.”  Here he talks on a panel at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum about the enduring interest in Holocaust films, illustrating that theme:

The treatment of the Holocaust in film dates back to the 1950s when Judgment at Nuremberg and the Diary of Anne Frank earned 21 Oscar nominations between them. But today, 65 years after the end of the war, the number of films seems greater than ever. This year, among the 65 films submitted for Oscar consideration in the foreign language category, 8 were related to the Holocaust or World War II. The question, of course, is why?

Responding to that question, Meyer Gottlieb, president of Samuel Goldwyn Films and a child survivor, said “The Holocaust has 6 million compelling stories and Hollywood is always desperate for a good story. It is only the media that think the public is tired of the subject.”

Howard Suber, a UCLA film professor, believes that all Holocaust films are variations on the world’s greatest storyline. A character is trapped in a situation and the question is will he get out? Professor Suber has said, “the moment a Nazi storm trooper or a swastika appears on the screen, the audience knows a survival story is coming. That story always works — from baby Moses floating down the Nile, and Joseph and his brothers to Robinson Crusoe and the TV survivor series.”

Clearly the Holocaust is a powerful setting for exploring universal themes about human nature — evil, apathy, heroism, guilt and redemption. And maybe by making and by watching these films, we, as a society and as individuals, find ways of confronting, or perhaps more importantly not confronting , our innermost anxieties — our own potential for evil, our tendencies to apathy, our longing for heroism, our sense of guilt and our need for redemption.

Towards the end of The Reader, the protagonist, masterfully played by Mr. Fiennes, confronts a Holocaust survivor who tells him, “people ask me all the time what I learned in the camps. Go to the theater if you want catharsis. Go to literature. Don’t go the camps. Nothing comes out of the camps.”

In one sense, that may be true. But at least one thing that came out of the camps was the human need to keep telling the story of the camps, whether through history, novels, art, theater, film, or even museums.

Are there too many Holocaust films? Maybe the better question is what is the role of film in transmitting history, communicating common values, helping us understand what we don’t know, and in asking us to confront who we are and who we can be.

Memory, loss and disillusionment are all part of a Power of Idealism Coming of Age Story. The Academy Award nominated film The Reader taps into the powerful resonance of this kind of story.

In the film, Hanna Schmitz (Kate Winslet) shows kindness to a much younger Michael Berg (David Kross). The two begin a passionate affair. Michael delights her by reading aloud and discussing the books assigned in his literature classes. One day, Hanna abruptly leaves– without a note or a goodbye. She simply vanishes from his life.  Michael is devastated.  Years later, when he is in law school observing a war crimes trial, Micheal finds her again. Hanna is a defendant. She is accused of being a Nazi guard who locked hundreds of Jews in a burning church.

Michael is horrified that the woman he loved could be involved in such brutal war crimes. He is also stunned to realize that she is illiterate. Hanna is accused of signing the order and writing the report on the Jews who died in the fire. She would rather be convicted (unjustly) than admit she doesn’t know how to read or write. Just as years earlier, she would rather disappear than turn down a job promotion at the tram company because of her illiteracy. Michael doesn’t tell the court the truth. Hanna is convicted and is sentenced to twenty years in prison.

Trying to come to terms with his feelings for Hanna, Michael begins taping his readings of books and sending them to her.  She teaches herself to read and write by following along with the tapes.  Michael refuses to see her or write to her, although she painstakingly writes to him.  He does find her a flat when she is scheduled to be released but she commits suicide rather than be set free.  On her own she had been reading accounts of Holocaust survivors and their stories.

Years later, Michael (Ralph Fiennes) still hasn’t recovered emotionally from the relationship. All these years he kept the shameful secret of his relationship with Hanna to himself.  It poisoned all his other relationships.  In classic Power of Idealism fashion, the memory of the past continues to exert tremendous power in the present. Youthful innocence is replaced by profound disillusionment about someone who was an icon of his youth. Only by revealing his secret relationship and resolving his loss is the Michael able to move on with his life.

In carrying out Hanna’s last request– that her money be given to the families of those who were killed in the fire– Michael also reconnects with his own daughter.  He tells her the story of his relationship with Hanna. The awful sorrow that defined his life seems to lift.  He is able to remember Hanna’s kindness to him lets go of the rest.  He finally visits her grave and lays flowers there with his daughter.  By conforming to this pattern of loss and understanding, The Reader speaks to the pain of Coming of Age in a universal way.  It reminds us that forgiveness is necessary to a full, whole and complete adulthood.

Note: Not all films about young people are Power of Idealism Coming of Age Stories. Another universal pattern deals with the Life Lessons of the Power of Ambition character. In these films, a young person, usually someone new to the group, has the opportunity to join the “cool kids.” To do so he or she must conform to the external standards and superficial behavior that ensures success and popularity. Another group of less popular or “loser” kids offers real relationships, based on authenticity and genuine connection. The protagonist must choose. An iconic film about young people that follows this pattern is Mean Girls.