Nearly ten years ago, readers hungrily consumed-turned each page of Anthony Doerr’s All the Light We Cannot See. Now after 200 weeks on the NYT bestseller list, Netflix is attempting to replicate this success with a TV adaption released on Nov. 2. In the four-episode miniseries directed by Montreal-born Shawn Levy. The show immerses viewers in the small town of Saint-Malo, France, during the Battle of Saint-Malo in 1944. Despite the show’s masterful visuals, much of the writing and character development relies on cliches and formulaic plot points, losing the novel’s rich complexity.
Every story has its heroes: Marie-Laure LeBlanc (Aria Mia Loberti), is blind, living in Saint-Malo after she escaped with her father when the Nazis overtook Paris. In the novel, she’s a pure, kind soul, who eventually realizes her own strength and ingenuity. Werner Pfennig (Louis Hoffman) is a Nazi soldier. While in the novel, he initially takes to Nazism as an escape from the orphanage in which he was raised, he is a thoughtful character and comes to regret his role in the brutal regime. His redemption comes when he saves Marie from Nazi psychopath Reinhod von Rumpel (Lars Eidinger). Each character has their own duality: They tug between helplessness and agency, between goodness and immorality. They mirror each other—while Marie is blind and in a world of darkness, Werner’s Nazi ideology pulls him away from the truth.
For an audience unfamiliar with the novel and ready for a watch-in-one-night series to kickstart the winter, All the Light We Cannot See is perfect. Aria Mia Loberti is blind herself, adding authenticity to her already complex character acting. Close-up shots of Marie’s hands feeling her surroundings prompt us to imagine the physical sensation of everything she touches, allowing viewers to closely experience her tactile perspective that is so important in the novel. The sound effects are crisp and smell arises frequently in dialogue, evoking the senses she relies on.
In the novel, Marie, Werner, and von Rumpel are all morally grey in that they are complex, embodying extremes of good and evil, agency and helpfulness, and light and dark that allow them to grow. However, since the series fails to fully allow each character to experience both extremes, it doesn’t allow them to grow.
In the series, Marie always knows the right thing to say, and when she comes face-to-face with von Rumpel in the first episode she is able to survive despite her impossible odds. It seems she has no failing, no flaw. She doesn’t grow from one who is helpless to one who realizes her own power—she is always powerful. However, her do-it-all personality undermines her accomplishments. Yes, she is able to defeat von Rumpel in the end, but what did her victory prove that wasn’t already assumed in her superheroic nature? Similarly, Werner’s goodness is never in doubt; he’s depicted simply as an unfortunate person unwillingly tossed into the Nazi regime. While his story is undoubtedly tragic, we fail to see him struggle with his own morality in a way that would have elevated his character. In the end, he feels less redeemed. Portraying him as simply a sheep in wolf’s clothing detracts him from his growth and agency.
Yet another cliché, a notable overkill involves the use of handguns. Every time a character threatens another person, they pull out a gun. After the initial episode, the gun-pointing seems more comical than threatening. The audience goes, “Ah, another gun pointed at a main character again. Wonder how they’ll get past that!” While excessive guns may work for Star Wars movies and Westerns, a series that depicts the harsh reality of World War II should find more creative solutions to create conflict.
All the Light We Cannot See is ultimately worth the watch, but be ready for cheesy staged blocking and underdeveloped characters to hold back the talents of the incredible actors and immersive visuals.
All the Light We Cannot See is available on Netflix.
