Child’s-eye view of Nazism is told in timeless and powerful ‘When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit’

At first glance, “When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit” might conjure another World War II-era story involving a titular fluffy-tailed creature. And in its beautifully staged opening scene, of a cheerful, brightly hued children’s carnival in 1933 Berlin, some viewers might think they’re in for “Jojo Rabbit” redux, especially when bullies dressed as Nazi youth threaten to ruin the party.

But rather than antic and allegorical, “When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit” turns out to be a sincere, involving and gently paced story of one family’s experience navigating exile while traveling from Germany to Switzerland to Paris and eventually to London.

Tastefully adapted from Judith Kerr’s autobiographical novel of the same name, this recollection of displacement avoids the most abhorrent images of its era: The most depraved atrocities are still to come, and what violence Kerr’s story contains occurs far offstage. Still, the regret, longing and fragile optimism of her real-life story suffuse a film that reminds the audience just how timeless terms such as “migration,” “exile” and “refugees” really are.

The emotional core of “When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit” is Kerr’s alter ego, Anna Kemper, a smart, sturdy 9-year-old played with astonishing skill by newcomer Riva Krymalowski. At that opening children’s fete, Anna has come dressed as a beggar girl, her brother Max (Marinus Hohmann) as Zorro. For their part, the Nazi boys aren’t playing dress-up: They’re the real thing.

Anna and Max’s father, Arthur (Oliver Masucci), is a renowned theater critic who has been an outspoken opponent of fascism (he’s based on Kerr’s father, the critic Alfred Kerr). On the eve of the election that will bring Adolf Hitler to power, Arthur leaves Germany, eventually bidding his family to join him in a picturesque town in the Swiss Alps.

Barely comprehending the oncoming terror, Anna – who has been safely cocooned in a world of prosperity, civility and bookish intellectualism – must leave the things she most cherishes behind, including her beloved stuffed pink rabbit and her adored Uncle Julius (Justus von Dohnányi), who works at the local zoo and will regale her with newsy postcards on the Kempers’ travels.

“When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit” has become a bestseller since it was published in the 1970s, and it’s easy to see why: It’s a story of adventure, but told with discretion and tenderness, while antisemitism, assimilation, identity and encroaching genocide hover subtly around the edges. (The cosmopolitan Kempers are secular Jews: They have a menorah in one room and a Christmas tree in another.)

In tone and approach, “When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit” recalls “To Kill a Mockingbird.” This is a very grown-up story couched in a coming-of-age tale of discovery and perseverance, the kind of child-centric narrative that provides an engaging and empathic gateway for young people to learn about history while never obscuring its deeper meanings for the adults in the room.

As such, “When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit” is an ideal film for families, not to mention fans of the book. (Kerr died in 2019 at 95.) Director Caroline Link (“Nowhere in Africa”) brings handsome period production values and a lyrical, restrained sensibility to a narrative that might not qualify as riveting but exerts its own unmistakable emotional pull. Never is this truer than when the camera rests on Krymalowski’s face, her solemn, watchful eyes evoking Natalie Portman in her earliest days.

In a subplot, Arthur is working on a script about Napoleon and speculates about how history might have been different had the French general’s mother had pride in her son as a little boy. With its warm, vivid portrayal of a strong and loving family, “When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit” answers that question in its own quiet but unmistakable way.