Watching this miniseries is akin to having to eat your spinach: Not a particularly enjoyable experience, but one you do because it's good for you. In this case because it's important to understand and appreciate the suffering and privation so many European Jews endured during WWII -- the ones that survived at least. Technically, though, it's a real drag. Every scene looks like it's been lit with a couple of 20-watt bulbs -- even those taking place in broad daylight. The musical score, played mostly by a weepy violin, is as wan and weak as the lighting. The actors' line delivery is so stilted as to border on robotic. And whether they're supposed to be Polish, Russian, German, or whatever, they all speak with the same unidentifiable, all-purpose, foreign-sounding accent, which for the American actors seems to come and go in fits and starts. I've watched the first five episodes. I can't wait for it to end ... er, I mean I can't wait to see how it ends.
Review of We Were the Lucky Ones
