I am still cringing

Rating: 1/10 (12 December 2019)

The Reader is part of a rare canon of films, in my opinion, that are bad for wholly uncommon reasons. At a glance, it is a "good" film. It passes every sniff test of being so. It was nominated for five major Oscars (Best Picture, Director, Actress, Cinematography, Screenplay). But it only holds a meh Rotten Tomatoes rating (63%). It was a definitive box office success but not a blockbuster. It has most likely avoided the posthumous scrutiny a film like 2004's Crash has because it did not take home the top prize at the Academy Awards (Slumdog Millionaire); it won just a single golden statue (Winslett).
But do not be mistaken, this film is atrocious. It's of an age of cinema that has mostly died off, thank god. At least it feels like this kind of badly overwrought, force-fed romantic, stupidly over-indulgent period piece has gone by the wayside (they at least don't seem to automatically cleanup during awards season).
Perhaps this is all a little too harsh. What's the harm in making a super glossy version of a Lifetime Movie of the Week with A-list actors once in awhile? Well the answer to that is twofold: nazis and statutory rape. Both featured prominently!
There's no real good way to spin this, just as there is no real way not to cringe when watching it. This film bounces back and forth and all over the course of almost 40 years. It's a tired trope, and messily done here. As I write this and we approach the new decade (2020), one can only say about The Reader (2008) is that... it exists. Twelve years have passed, and it still exists. I'm sorry that you, dear Reader, have stumbled upon this review in whatever time/place you find yourself, for it means you most likely have some kind of interest in this movie. To you I say, retreat, forget, and move on.