..Gary Dretzka
..Noah Forrest
..Leonard Klady
..R.J. Matson
..David Poland
..Douglas Pratt
..Ray Pride
..Michael Wilmington

The Pianist
Directed by: Roman Polanski

___________________________________

The title musician of Roman Polanski’s Cannes Palme d’or winner is a survivor of one of the most insidious persecutions of modern time. Wladyslaw Szpilman (Adrien Brody), the true life inspiration of The Pianist, performed the classics on Polish radio up to the invasion of his country by the Nazis. Thereafter he found his liberties rapidly stripped away and his life a constant struggle to evade the conquering power, elude death and live each day with the prospect it would be his last.

Unlike most tales of the Holocaust, Szpilman and his story are not heroic. He is not a canny man with an innate sense of self-protection. Rather he is lucky, very, very lucky. Time and again he is snatched from the jaws of certain death or blunders through the landscape of battle unscathed as those around him have the bad luck to be in the path of a bullet or to step sideways and put their full body weight on a land mine.

Polanski’s film - adapted from Szpilman’s memoir by playwright Ronald Harwood - is certainly branded by the terrible years of hostile occupation in his native land. It vividly chronicles how the Jews were victimized both by Germans and Poles; how jobs, possessions and ties to society were systematically removed. We even see, from a distance, their gallant resistance in the infamous Warsaw Ghetto uprising.

One cannot tell a story of that era and that place without these elements just as it wouldn’t be a western if you took out the guns, horses and hats. Yet, Polanski’s intent is different, or at least struggles to come to terms with things not solely defined by the time and circumstance. They are critical factors, but perhaps because he himself survived the Kracow Ghetto and so many have already tried to comprehend the “evil,” he strives for a more transcendent and elusive goal. The Pianist is about beauty in the face of squalor and its ability to surmount seemingly impregnable defenses.

It’s an uneven film, not by dint of ability but by the medium’s antipathy toward such a subtle concept. Getting there is a long and tortuous route and one senses that the filmmakers were impatient and frustrated by history that denied them an easy and more direct access. However, when it reaches its destination, it achieves an emotional power that leaves one breathless and shaken.

Brody is ideally cast as Szpilman. He looks the part of an artist and a Jew and has a quality of stillness that allows him to be both observer and participant. The opening section of the film is cluttered with the Szpilman’s family - well heeled and involved in the vitality and vibrancy of Warsaw. They are loud, opinionated and, generally, not particularly likeable. Wladyslaw stands apart from them not only because of his introspection but because when he elects to speak, his words are well chosen and direct.

He’s admired for his skill and self-effacing nature. Those who meet him sense vulnerability and cut him considerable slack. When his family’s rounded up to be sent to the camps one such person separates him from those about to board the trains. His instinct is to do the same for his family but in an instant and a few carefully chosen words and gestures he simply moves on knowing such an act would be futile. He has to be troubled by the gnawing suspicion he would not survive the camps.

The film, up to this point, has been a series of false starts. It’s only when he’s separated from his family and on his own that one begins to sense the drama. Wladyslaw must become invisible and to do that he is dependent on the good graces of others.

Without resorting to the obvious, Brody conveys the anguish of his plight. There’s a wonderful moment when he’s secreted into an abandoned apartment, told not to make any noise and locked inside for his protection. Alone in his new domicile he wanders from room to room until he happens upon a piano and looks at it with the understanding it cannot be played. The silence is deafening.

Eventually he must move, as all safe havens are temporary. Dignity becomes an impediment as he strips warm clothing from cold bodies and develops feral traits. Where will it end?

The answer is unexpected. He finds refuge in a building that’s been taken over as a Nazi command post. Late one evening, believing he’s alone, he sits on a bench facing yet another hushed baby grand. A voice out of the darkness tells him to lift the lid and play and he obeys. It’s a German officer (Thomas Kretschmann) who obviously knows the score.

Capt. Hosenfeld doesn’t have to ask the how or the why of Szpilman’s presence. He simply craves something that will color the arid environment and is grateful to hear a reminder of humanity that’s been long absent in his life. The war is at the doorstep but for the two men there is a brief respite. Both may vanish from the temporal plain the next instant, yet at this moment they are touched by something eternal that reduces all conflict to a triviality.

The purity, the potency and the honesty of the exchange is non pareil. In another era to quote from the classics it “wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans.” The truth is hard to come by and when it peeks out of its shell, grab it quickly.

A Focus Features release of an Alain Sarde and Robert Benmussa presention. Produced by Roman Polanski, Benmussa, Sarde. Director, Polanski. Screenplay, Ronald Harwood, based upon the book by Wladyslaw Szpilman. Camera, Pawel Edelman. Editor, Herve de Luze. Music, Wojcech Kilar. Production design, Allan Starski. Costumes, Anna Sheppard.

Adrien Brody (Wladyslaw Szpilman), Thomas Kretschmann (Capt. Wilm Hosenfeld), Frank Finlay (Mr. Szpilman), Maureen Lipman (Mrs. Szpilman), Emilia Fox (Dorota), Ed Stoppard (Henryk), Julia Rayner (Regina), Jessica Kate Meyer (Halina).