Just as Jonathan backs away from reality, Alex grabs it and tackles it, creating an odd-couple chemistry that’s only enhanced by Wood’s generous, second-string performance, which begins inscrutably enough and in the final frames almost morphs entirelyĬarrying it forward, however, is Hutz, a captivating first-timer whose gypsy-punk boho band Gogol Bordello keep the movie pumping forward on a soundtrack that owes a massive but nevertheless enjoyable debt to the films of Emir Kusturica. Central to this is Eugene Hutz’s Alex, a gangly, beady-eyed culture vulture who descends on Jonathan with an almost insatiable curiosity. Which may sound like the opening to something turgid and mournful, but, for a novice, Schreiber plays a very bold game, stripping out the novel’s folklore and committing to its modernity. But when he arrives, Jonathan’s romantic expectations are dashed: the villages of the past, or shtetls, are long gone, and the rustic idyll cemented over in the dying throes of Communism. The death of his grandfather ignites a curiosity about his European roots, so Jonathan takes off to the Ukraine, equipped only with a black suit, some plastic bags and a picture of the peasant woman who may or may not have been instrumental in his grandfather’s departure for the West. It begins in the present day, where Jonathan (Elijah Wood), a sort-of-writer, is collating artifacts from his closed-off life.

There’s really no middle ground, and Liev Schreiber’s considered and surprisingly lean adaptation - his assured directing debut - will do little to upset the admirers or convince the critics. Others throw the book across the room, finding it smug, smart-arsey and borderline racist.

Some are impressed by its precocious talent, its whimsical collision of foreign cultures and magic-realist digressions into Jewish history. Jonathan Safran Foer’s debut novel, written in his early 20s, has a striking effect on those who read it.

Everything is illuminated book review