In its finest moments, The Kite Runner shrinks a world grown too large and unruly to comprehend.

This absorbing saga of soiled innocence is set mainly in Afghanistan, ending two years before 9/11 retaliations made Americans care where the country is located.

Soiled innocence isn’t an exclusive burden. The triumph of Khaled Hosseini’s novel and now Marc Forster’s film is making such tragedy -- and hopes for redemption -- feel like common ground.

The Kite Runner focuses upon the haunted childhoods of Amir (Zekeria Ebrahimi) and Hassan (Ahmad Khan Mahmidzada) in 1978, before Soviet invasion enabled Taliban extremists to take control. These are idyllic times for the boys, spending allowances at the local theater and flying kites with Little League competitiveness, filmed with computer-generated grace.

Forster impressively presents pre-Taliban Afghanistan life as something timeless, universal and soon-to-be turbulent; it could be Germany before the Nazis, Cuba before Castro or even the colonies before the British.

The Kite Runner occasionally seems too Hollywood slick for its subject. But it constantly moves the heart, urging viewers to see the world as more than “us” and “them,” an imperfect movie with perfectly good intentions.