‘All The Light We Cannot See’ Season Review: Not Enough Nuance

Anthony Doerr’s 2014 novel “All The Light We Cannot See” was both a critical and commercial success, winning the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and selling over 15 million copies. So at first, the teaming up of “Peaky Blinders” creator Steven Knight as developer and “Stranger Things” primary producer Shawn Levy as director for Netflix’s adaptation sounded promising. The result however, is a complete let down. The four-episode limited series is a pretty yet hollow shell, with forced dialogue and cartoonish characters.

The series follows the converging stories of a blind French girl in occupied France, Marie-Laure (Aria Mia Loberti), and a young German boy forced to fight for the Nazi regime, Werner Pfennig (Louis Hofmann). Following the structure of the novel, it switches between the main storyline, the Battle of Saint-Malo in August 1944, which formed part of the Allied forces liberation of France and their defeat of the German army, and flashbacks of the two leads' separate childhoods. A third storyline focusing on Reinhold von Rumpel (Lars Eidinger), a SS officer in search of a mystical and valuable jewel, is also incorporated. As Reinhold believes that the jewel is hidden in Marie’s house, tension emerges between his search of her residence, Marie’s dangerous job as a radio broadcaster, and Werner, who covertly but loyally listens to her channel.

The show’s biggest weakness is its dialogue. Conversations meant to be personal or casual sound forced and awkward. Characters feel as if they are talking at each other rather than having meaningful connections. They become mouthpieces of grand ideas of good and evil, truth and deception, education and propaganda. Supposedly moving moments fall flat, and complex topics are distilled down in a way that produces an unintended laugh from the audience at best, and frustration and anger at worst. At one point, the best description of the Third Reich the show can give is to compare it to a Tyrannosaurus rex. This heavy-handedness is glaring and negatively impacts much of the show.

For a show that explores delicate themes such as the power of language and the senses, and the way technology, radio especially, can be misused, the characters’ conversations do nothing to explore these further, and the usage of words such as “light,” “darkness,” and “truth” becomes redundant.

The show's overreliance on stereotypes simplifies its characters. Marie’s father Daniel (Mark Ruffalo) is the archetypal ever self-sacrificing father. Marie’s great-uncle Ettiene (Hugh Laurie) is a stereotypical agoraphobic and traumatized WWI soldier, who still harbors a brave and loyal soul underneath his grim exterior. All the Nazi soldiers, except Werner, are ruthless and evil — and all have comically-enhanced German accents. The French townspeople on the other hand, are noble and brave (and almost all of them — for some reason — have British accents). The show presents its characters as overdone WWII tropes, featuring flat depictions and getting rid of the nuance.

Werner’s characterization is especially upsetting. Out of the two leads, the show devotes the least amount of time to him, erasing different important figures from his life as compared to the book. Werner is the stereotypical “good Nazi,” the always pure, always smart radio-making prodigy, who was whisked away to fight against his will. In the show, Werner’s arc of recognizing the damaging education system of the Nazi regime, as well as the impacts of the choices he was therefore driven to make, is woefully incomplete. The show features few scenes from his time at the Nazi education institute, and almost none from his time at the battlefield. The audience is only left to believe everything as told through dialogue by Werner, rather than the scenes showing his journey.

On the other hand, “All The Light We Cannot See” has some redeeming qualities too. The cinematography is grand and atmospheric, with wide shots capturing the beauty of the filming locations, Budapest, Saint-Malo, and Villefranche-de-Rouergue. Large-scale battle or confrontation scenes are shot captivatingly, layering and clashing sounds of distress and bombing, utilizing black and white coloring, and framing the experience of war from different characters’ perspectives. In many scenes, the only source of lightning is the fire caused by the constant bombardment, adding to the gravity of the situation.

The musical score is another highlight. James Newton Howard produces a swelling and enthralling experience. The score fills in the gaps between scenes and carries great emotional weight.

Out of the cast, Aria Mia Loberti’s performance as Marie stands out. The Fulbright Scholar’s acting debut is inspiring and moving. Her passionate voice and facial expressions tug at the heartstrings of the viewer. Marie’s blindness is also portrayed in an interesting way. The showrunners took special care to thoughtfully portray this character — both actresses who play young and adult Marie are blind, and Joe Strechay, an associate producer and a blindness and accessibility consultant, worked closely with Levy during production.

In comparison to the book, the show feels fast and self-indulgent. It erases characters and changes plot points to replace subtle growth with ostentatious declarations. While the novel’s lyrical writing and symbolism are two of its biggest strengths, the show struggles to translate them and find its footing, becoming indistinguishable from the many, already-existing depictions of WWII.

“All The Light We Cannot See” is unfortunately a letdown. While prettily shot, it is a prime example of lost potential from a layered source material. The show could have benefited from more episodes, in order to accurately portray each character and engage more meaningfully with the complex themes. As it is, “All The Light We Cannot See” presents its story clumsily and awkwardly, leaving a sour aftertaste.