Berlin Review: Hans Steinbichler's 'The Diary Of Anne Frank'

A competent, sometimes even clever film adaptation of a book that requires a film adaptation possibly less than any other in history, the chief problem with Hans Steinbichler's "The Diary Of Anne Frank" is that it's hard to work out who, or what, it is for. Handsomely mounted, with little expense spared in the recreation of the world's most famous attic, and a few flourishes designed to render its confinement narrative somewhat cinematic, it feels founded on the mistaken belief that if you're deeply respectful to your source material, and approach it in a time-honored prestige-y manner, then the glossily watchable rendering of the story that results is a self-evident Good Thing.

But Anne Frank, admired and mourned and beloved by everyone who has ever read her book (which is, I hope, everyone) is not famous because of her story, which can be summed up in a couple of horribly short sentences. She is famous for her diary, for the way we get to live in that lively, lovely,...