|
Volume CXXXII, Number 13 |
 |
Pianist hits all the right notes
MONICA GUZMAN
COLUMNIST
It's not easy to write about a Holocaust film and it's certainly no easier to make one-such an undertaking requires a tight-gripped, unyielding dedication from all involved if it is to be done well, or done at all. The director, the crew, and most of all, the actors, must delve into this hell of history headfirst. None can possibly come out of it unscathed or unchanged.
And such is the case with The Pianist, the latest masterpiece to come from the mind of Roman Polanski, the controversial European director who last left his mark on American cinema with Chinatown in 1974. Since then Polanski has made mostly foreign-flavored films.
Set in the director's native Poland, the film is set during the worse year of World War II. It tells the true story of an artistic prodigy, a Jewish pianist named Wladyslaw Szpilman. As the comforts of his life erode away under Nazi control, Szpilman quickly loses control of his world. Aided by his wits, his friends, and his spirited passion for music, Szpilman struggles to stay alive.
Adrien Brody, a relative newcomer to Hollywood gossip circles, goes through various transformations in this film, transformations that are similar to those that Tom Hanks undergoes in Cast Away (though far superior in my opinion). His character is both vivid and terrifying as he adopts Szpilman's despair. Brody can show the intensity of the war's effect on his character through the nervous tick of an eye or a frenzied twitch of his arm.
Perhaps our unfamiliarity with Brody as an actor in some way contributes to the authenticity of his performance. Szpilman pretends nothing; he is no hero, but merely human. Brody himself is no movie star, but just an actor. Perhaps that will all change by the Oscars, but his extraordinary talent doesn't need an award to be legitimate.
Being mostly a character-centered drama--as opposed to war-centered drama-one wouldn't expect much attention to be paid to the visuals. But it is, and it throws the viewer into a kind of shock. Polanski resuscitates not only the pianist, but also the city, the war, and the times from the dusty tombs of historic memory. He shows that the streets, the crumbling ghettoes, and the war itself are every bit a part of Szpilman as is his own will.
Along with Szpilman's hope, we see the city of Warsaw crumble little by little in wide, encompassing shots of desolation. In one notable scene, perhaps the most beautiful in the entire film, charred and smoking shells of buildings, sickened by dirty clouds of dust, stretch on for miles, and Szpilman, limping over the rubble, is the only thing still living-the only one still standing. But such is his story and such is history; it is a tragic triumph, a quiet victory overshadowed by massive, unbearable destruction.
But like most World War II films, particularly those dealing with the Holocaust, the most powerful element is the emotion and the raw unbridled inhumanity of the time. In one scene, in a moment of maddening desperation, Szpilman's father slowly cuts a caramel, no bigger than a small tootsie roll, into eight equal pieces and gives one of each to his family while they wait in a fenced pen to be taken away to the camps in boxcars. In countless other scenes, soldiers shoot down Jews without hesitation and without regard for their humanity. It just happens. The sound of the bullet lingers with you long after the bodies are forgotten.
Far from Hollywood's sensationalized drama, The Pianist is, in certain ways, more realistic than Spielberg's legendary Schindler's List. Consequently, however, it is not as blatantly touching. The Pianist is a difficult film to take but its masterful honesty and brilliant performances make it a must-see for anyone who's ready and willing.
|
FastCounter by bCentral |