The Pianist review

The Pianist is a very personal story for two men: Wladyslaw Szpilman, the eponymous subject of the film and author of the book on which it was based, and director Roman Polanski, whose own horrific war time experiences paralleled Szpilman's. As an artisitic Jewish youngster growing up in Poland during the holocaust, Polanski was able to identify closely with Szpilman and use his traumatic tale to convey his own feelings about life in Poland under Nazi rule.

Although personal, it is also a universal story of endeavour, triumph, fate and resilience. The emotionally charged subject in the hands of such an impassioned and gifted director has resulted in a film of heart-wrenching tragedy and chilling horror, and one fully deserving of the honors bestowed upon it - including the coveted Palme D'or at Cannes - and Adrien Brody in the title role.

While The Pianist focuses on one person's extraordinary story, it also emphasises that almost every holocaust survivor possesses an equally terrifying account. Almost without exception, each would make a worthy subject to film, but with so many already existing, it becomes increasingly hard to do so in an original and effective way. Even during the course of The Pianist, the brutality of the Nazis, exemplified by the many scenes depicting arbitrary and callous executions, becomes all too familiar. That doesn't diminish its impact, but it does make one yearn for a fresh perspective.

What The Pianist is able to offer in this regard is the true story of a gifted young Jewish musician whose world was his family and his music, until he was deprived of both when the Germans invaded Poland in 1939. Szpilman was an intense young man, living in an upscale neighbourhood of Warsaw with his extensive family, including his mother (Maureen Lipman), father (Frank Finlay), brother Henryk (Ed Stoppard) and sisters. The film begins with him playing Chopin for Polish radio when the first bombs are dropped. As he flees the studio, he meets a pretty blonde cellist Dorota (Emilia Fox), but their subsequent attempts at dating are thwarted by their different faiths and the Nazi imposed edicts prohibiting Jews from many sectors of the city. With providence playing such a prominent part in Szpilman's life, so it would with Dorota as their paths cross again many years later.

With the establishment of the Jewish ghettos, Szpilman's family are relocated before being shipped off to concentration camps. His fortune and musical renown intervene and he is plucked from the line boarding the trains by an influential friend in the Jewish police. Over the following years, as he endures unimaginable hardship and depravity, both elements play significant roles in his survival. For all his bravery and fortitude, it is luck above all else that divides him from his family and friends who perish.

Adrien Brody is eloquently understated in his portrayal of the dignified Szpilman, relying less on the sparse dialogue than the manner in which he expresses his unrelenting suffering. The bleakness of the situation is masterfully captured by the muted palette of Pawel Edelman's cinematography. Only when the Nazi stranglehold finally begins to loosen under the allies' ascendancy, and liberation nears, does the first glimmer of sunlight fall on Warsaw's decimated streets.

Polanski uses this symbolism again when a shaft of light cuts across Szpilman's gaunt features as he plays for a Nazi officer whose compassion and musical appreciation result in friendship and salvation rather than assassination. "Thank God, not me," says the officer. That such an intervention spared Szpilman so that his playing would be heard and his story would be told, may be difficult to accept, but based on The Pianist, it's one to be grateful for.