The Tattooist of Auschwitz

It’s a sobering chronicle of a romance surrounded by death that’s, by virtue of its subject, more affecting than entertaining. It’s also slow-paced, suggesting the story may have been better told as a compact feature film rather than the drawn-out miniseries that has all episodes now streaming on Peacock.

Most moving, however, is footage of the real Lali Sokolov, now in his late eighties, who breaks down as he recalls the evils of Auschwitz. This comes at the end of the last episode, shortly before a new Barbra Streisand song, “Love Will Survive” (specifically created for the series), strikes up. It’s hugely powerful. What a shame this well-made but occasionally over-sentimental series doesn’t have more moments like it.

Overall, though, the miniseries does suffer from a few flaws, including an intrusive soundtrack (by Hans Zimmer). Most important of all, the story is weakened by miscasting. As the young Lali, Hauer-King digs hard but doesn’t fully evoke the complex inner conflict Lali feels as he must betray others to survive. And, to me at least, he looks nothing like the older Lali, well-played by Harvey Keitel, who manages to bring Lali’s shame to the fore.

The Peacock miniseries takes seriously the responsibility to bear witness. But the gravity of a noble mission can also become an albatross. In spite of the touching romance at its heart, The Tattooist of Auschwitz feels like a means of conveying an urgent message, rather than a story to get swept up in for its own sake.

For all its period detail and unflinching depiction of the Holocaust's horrors, though, "The Tattooist of Auschwitz" lumbers more than it inspires.

Yes, it’s a love story, but while love may conquer all, it can’t in this instance capture the horror of the conditions in which it flowered, much less rise above it.

Don’t avert your gaze, we are told, but in turning the worst act of suffering and murder ever perpetrated by humans against humans into yet another tale of survival, The Tattooist of Auschwitz adds little to an over-exploited chapter of our shared history.

The Tattooist of Auschwitz is well made, well acted, well intentioned, and grotesque.