Unconvincing fable hides under striped pajamas

By Peter Chattaway and ChristianWeek | December 1, 2008

Ten years ago Roberto Benigni wrote, directed and starred in a rather unlikely but surprisingly popular comedy about the Holocaust called Life Is Beautiful. Benigni won two Oscars for his portrayal of a Jewish father who shields his son from the horror and gravity of their situation by pretending that the concentration camp they are in is an elaborate game.

The movie was anything but realistic, but it worked as a sort of fable about the human capacity for denial and self-deception—partly because the movie itself, like its characters, was engaged in a certain amount of denial and self-deception.

Now comes The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, a similar sort of fable about a boy who thinks the Holocaust is merely a game. But this time the boy in question is German, his father is a Nazi officer, and the film does not suggest that innocence can save us so much as it mourns the tragic, inevitable loss of innocence in a cruel world.

The story is told from the point of view of Bruno (Asa Butterfield), an eight-year-old boy whose father (David Thewlis) has just received a promotion that will take him and his family to a new home in the countryside. Once there, Bruno, who doesn't like the new place, looks out of his bedroom window and sees a concentration camp in the distance. He assumes it is a farm, but wonders why all the farmers wear striped pajamas.

Eventually, against his parents' wishes, Bruno sneaks away and comes to a tall, electric, barbed-wire fence. On the other side of this fence he sees a Jewish boy named Shmuel (Jack Scanlon), who also wears striped pajamas. Eager to make a new friend, Bruno introduces himself and returns to the fence again and again, to bring Shmuel food and to play checkers with him from across the wires.

Somehow Bruno never figures out what is really going on within the camp, nor does anyone ever discover these clandestine visits. The spot where he meets Shmuel is hidden from view by a giant pile of boards and bricks, and no guards ever seem to walk the perimeter.

This is all very well for a fable, but the story grows increasingly bleak. The story's mythical feel, somewhat distanced from reality, robs the Holocaust scenes of their intended devastating power. It becomes difficult to tell a compelling story about the intrusion of truth on the human mind when you have been asking the audience to suspend its disbelief all along.

The story still leaves one with plenty to chew on. By making the Nazis seem so normal, through they eyes of a German officer's young son, the film prompts us to ask what evil might be tolerated, in our own society, obscured by familiarity.

It inspires us to be vigilant in raising our children and reminds us that, sadly, childlike innocence is not sufficient in a world like ours. We need to be wise as serpents while remaining innocent as doves.