The Shadow-gloom and Weight of the Sacred

Yesterday marked the anniversary of Germany's invasion of Poland: the beginning of World War II. It is only coincidental, though, that the movie I most recently watched was The Pianist. The film was released in 2002 to wide spread critical acclaim, and I always wanted to see it, but I guess it's just taken me years to get around to it. But, then again, is it really the type of movie you run out to see it? Sure, it's a great film and I love watching great films, but watching The Pianist isn't like watching Amadeus, Easy Rider or The Hours, and it's certainly not like seeing Star Trek or The Dark Knight. I wanted to watch The Pianist, but I also have to watch The Pianist. It's required viewing because of my humanity and, eventually, I think we all must work our way around to it.

As my usual approach to a movie review, I don't like to give much a summary because there are so many other places in which you can find that information--for instance, clicking the like about to the Wiki article on the film. I would much rather document my reaction to the film and why I think it is good cinema. The trailer doesn't give a great deal of information regarding the film's plot, but here it is nonetheless:

There's little to dislike about The Pianist; it is a very thorough movie. The acting is impeccable and the direction complete. Roman Polanski directed this movie--he also directed one of my all-time favorite movies, Chinatown. Whereas other movies set in the era of World War II tend to focus on a macro level of the war and/or holocaust (e.g., Schindler's List), The Pianist focuses on a single man and how a single aspect of the war--the assault on Warsaw--affects him.

What is truly unique, I believe, among WWII and holocaust films is what The Pianist doesn't reveal to us. In Schindler's List, the narrative often moves away from the main protagonist, Oscar Schindler, to provide vivid portrayals of the extermination camp system in which so many people died: the deportation points, the overloaded railroad cars, the arrival at the camps followed by subsequent division of men and women. This is followed by a depiction of life inside a place such as Auschwitz (there is no need for me to recount this further) and, finally, the gas chambers. Most of this is really isn't necessary to the narrative of Schindler's List, but Steven Spielberg can't himself. He has to show us these things to tell the story in his way. (This does, however, help personify the nature of the evil confronting European Jews; it helps establish the fear in which the Jews would have lived.)

Polanski shows great restraint. We rarely see any aspect of the extermination camp system. We do see the deportation point. We do see the overloaded train car. But that's it. We know what is at the other end of that railroad and Polanski doesn't show it to us. I don't think this is necessarily an act of charity on his part because the atrocity exists in our minds. He taps into what we already know and understand, then he leaves it to our imagination, thus we as moviegoers become more involved, we become greater participants, in what's happening because the imagination is always more real and vivid, always worse, than anything that could be constructed with a movie camera. This is not to say that we are spared any depiction of the dehumanizing treatment that the Jews received at the hands of the Nazis, it is simply to point out that Polanski directs a precise, calculated film.

Another aspect of the film's restraint that was very interesting is the way in which it assumes you know the history of the time period. When the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising occurs, there is little given to us to indicate what is happening. No one says, "It's the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising." There is no caption stating this, either. There are indicators in the film prior to the Uprising that it is going to occur, but a person with only a basic familiarity of WWII history could easily confuse the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising with the eventual Warsaw Uprising. Personally, I like this. I know the history of WWII fairly well--it's a fringe benefit of my interest in the Weimar Republic and German Expressionism--so I didn't have a problem. But, what I like about it is how, once again, this pulls the moviegoer into the film. You have to wrestle to keep up with it. You cling to every word, every action in order to reset yourself within the narrative's timeline. I'm not really describing this very well, I don't think, but let me just leave it at this: The Pianist isn't a move dumbed down for a bonehead mass audience. Although I'm arguably bone-headed, I appreciate this and the impact it creates in the experience of the moviegoer. An inferior director would have held our hand all the way through and ruined the film.

If you haven't seen The Pianist, I'd recommend it. It is an important film told in a rather unique way. It doesn't try to include too much. It doesn't shift between varying perspectives. Just one man. Fear. Hunger. Loss. Survivalism. And, Adrian Brody is really incredible in his portrayal of Władysław Szpilman. He was a worthy recipient of 2002's Academy Award for Best Actor.