The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

From time to time, I will take my laptop and a movie to my room and go to bed before the sun does. I usually take something sappy or deep. Because there is no one in my womb - I mean room - to see me weep or cheer or whatever other emotion I may conjure in my solitude.....
This week, I chose The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.

Sigh.

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is a little short story of a film set in World War II Germany. A short story that packs a powerful, jolting wallop.
This film is character driven, for which I am extremely thankful, because the images my mind invoked were horrific enough to stay with me long after the final credits rolled across the screen.
That being said, however, the cinematography was amazing and even beautiful. The images were subtle and powerful simultaneously.
What I loved about this film is what it didn’t show. What it didn’t have to throw in my face. It gives the viewers credit for being intelligent, educated people who know what went on in our recent history.
It is the story of two eight year old boys who form a tentative, unlikely friendship - between the barbs of a concentration camp fence.
It is the story of a woman realizing her husband is neck deep in something she cannot believe in. And justifiably fearing for her children.
It is the story of living. And dying. And continuing to live in spite of it.
It is tragically sad.....

... and I feel numb ....