This movie contained some graphic violence. If you can handle that, it helps you see vividly what life was like for the Jews in Warsaw during World War II. I had heard of the Warsaw Ghetto, but the name was pretty much all I knew. This movie is also a thought-provoking and beautiful depiction of a few years in the life of a great musician under such extraordinary circumstances. Since I haven’t read the memoir written by the movie’s main character, I can’t say how faithful the movie is to the true story, or indeed how faithful the memoir is to real events. I think it is artistically sublime.
**SPOILERS FOLLOW**
**DO NOT CONTINUE UNLESS YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN THE MOVIE**
Throughout the movie, if you are a movie lover, you find yourself wondering why it is called The Pianist. After his radio career is ended by the war, he still has a job early on playing the piano in a restaurant in the Warsaw Ghetto, but that also soon ends. He moves from one hiding place to another, not able to live like a pianist, nor even like a human, since he must never be seen or heard and depends on unreliable volunteers to bring him food.
I appreciated the subtlety of the movie. Beneath all the catastrophic upheaval in the world runs the simple tension of being a pianist without touching a piano for years. The main character is cut off in the middle of a brilliant Chopin recording by the bombing of Warsaw. During his café job he is asked to stop playing so a gold trader can test by ear the virtue of some coins. And in one painful scene during his years of hiding, the pianist is brought into an apartment with a piano and then told not to make any noise. This is after years without being near an instrument. The pianist quietly seats himself at the piano and starts moving his fingers an inch above the keys, listening to the sound that is not there.
Often it seems that great musicians and artists find special license to ignore social conventions or obligations, but this guy always put others first. He showed little regret about forsaking his love and his livelihood, although he must have strongly felt it. He seemed unlike your stereotypical genius to me. He must have realized that his suffering was like that of millions of others.
The movie would be good in one sense as a story of Jewish heroism during World War II. But I think it is trying to be something else, almost a fairy tale. All the shame, terror, hunger, grief, and injustice build up to the moment you realize you have been waiting for the whole movie, the scene in the bombed-out ghetto when he is discovered by a Nazi commander and gets to reveal who he really is—the pianist.
I asked a friend who is an accomplished professional pianist whether it was a stretch for someone to play a challenging piece on demand after years of not practicing. She seemed to think that virtually practicing on a tabletop would be enough. “So much of it is in your ear,” she said.
I could give the pianist the benefit of the doubt about overcoming hunger and muscle fatigue—I’m sure he had enough adrenalin flowing through his veins to allow such a performance. However, I am still skeptical that the technically demanding passages could have come off quite perfectly. Otherwise why do concert pianists take such pains to practice regularly?
I looked at passages of the memoir to compare the real pianist’s own description of that amazing scene. The movie scene seems to have been somewhat romanticized, mainly in the quality of the piano he found in the war-ravaged ghetto.
I played Chopin’s Nocturne in C sharp minor. The glassy, tinkling sound of the untuned strings rang through the empty flat and the stairway, floated through the ruins of the villa on the other side of the street and returned as a muted, melancholy echo. When I had finished, the silence seemed even gloomier and even more eerie than before.
In the memoir, you don’t get any better sense of what he was feeling at the time. It seems artistically justified to make the piano a well-tuned one in the movie, just to hear those liquid notes of Chopin’s and satisfy your desire that has grown throughout the movie, just to let him play again.
This movie contained some graphic violence. If you can handle that, it helps you see vividly what life was like for the Jews in Warsaw during World War II. I had heard of the Warsaw Ghetto, but the name was pretty much all I knew. This movie is also a thought-provoking and beautiful depiction of a few years in the life of a great musician under such extraordinary circumstances. Since I haven’t read the memoir written by the movie’s main character, I can’t say how faithful the movie is to the true story, or indeed how faithful the memoir is to real events. I think it is artistically sublime.
**SPOILERS FOLLOW**
**DO NOT CONTINUE UNLESS YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN THE MOVIE**
Throughout the movie, if you are a music lover, you find yourself wondering why it is called The Pianist. After his radio career is ended by the war, he still has a job early on playing the piano in a restaurant in the Warsaw Ghetto, but that also soon ends. He moves from one hiding place to another, not able to live like a pianist, nor even like a human, since he must never be seen or heard and depends on unreliable volunteers to bring him food.
I appreciated the subtlety of the movie. Beneath all the catastrophic upheaval in the world runs the simple tension of being a pianist without touching a piano for years. The main character is cut off in the middle of a brilliant Chopin recording by the bombing of Warsaw. During his café job he is asked to stop playing so a gold trader can test by ear the virtue of some coins. And in one painful scene during his years of hiding, the pianist is brought into an apartment with a piano and then told not to make any noise. This is after years without being near an instrument. The pianist quietly seats himself at the piano and starts moving his fingers an inch above the keys, listening to the sound that is not there.
Often it seems that great musicians and artists find special license to ignore social conventions or obligations, but this guy always put others first. He showed little regret about forsaking his love and his livelihood, although he must have strongly felt it. He seemed unlike your stereotypical genius to me. He must have realized that his suffering was like that of millions of others.
The movie would be good in one sense as a story of Jewish heroism during World War II. But I think it is trying to be something else, almost a fairy tale. All the shame, terror, hunger, grief, and injustice build up to the moment you realize you have been waiting for the whole movie, the scene in the bombed-out ghetto when he is discovered by a Nazi commander and gets to reveal who he really is—the pianist.
I asked a friend who is an accomplished professional pianist whether it was a stretch for someone to play a challenging piece on demand after years of not practicing. She seemed to think that virtually practicing on a tabletop would be enough. “So much of it is in your ear,” she said.
I could give the pianist the benefit of the doubt about overcoming hunger and muscle fatigue—I’m sure he had enough adrenalin flowing through his veins to allow such a performance. However, I am still skeptical that the technically demanding passages could have come off quite perfectly. Otherwise why do concert pianists take such pains to practice regularly?
I looked at passages of the memoir to compare the real pianist’s own description of that amazing scene. The movie scene seems to have been somewhat romanticized, mainly in the quality of the piano he found in the war-ravaged ghetto.
I played Chopin’s Nocturne in C sharp minor. The glassy, tinkling sound of the untuned strings rang through the empty flat and the stairway, floated through the ruins of the villa on the other side of the street and returned as a muted, melancholy echo. When I had finished, the silence seemed even gloomier and even more eerie than before.
In the memoir, you don’t get any better sense of what he was feeling at the time. It seems artistically justified to make the piano a well-tuned one in the movie, just to hear those liquid notes of Chopin’s and satisfy your desire that has grown throughout the movie, just to let him play again.