Rosi trusts the audience to fill in the recent past without any graphic _Schindler's List_ reminders. The measure of the concentration-camp horrors is in the modesty of the ensuing triumphs, culminating in the sensual luxury of a bite of milk-dipped bread at home in Turin, following closely upon the emotional climax of the movie, an eerie confrontation with a work crew of captive Nazis in the dead of night in the Munich railroad station.

I wanted to like this far more than I actually did. I'm not sure I can put my finger on what exactly is wrong here. It just seems too heavy-handed and self-conscious