THE PIANIST

THE PIANIST
DIRECTOR : ROMAN POLANSKI
RELEASED : 2002

“The life of a human being, let alone his personal freedom, is a matter of no importance. But the love of freedom is native to every human being and every nation, and cannot be suppressed in the long term. History teaches us that tyranny has never endured. And now we have blood-guilt on our conscience for the dreadful injustice of murdering the Jewish inhabitants.”

Roman Polanski's "The Pianist" tells the story of a Polish Jew, a classical musician, who survived the Holocaust through stoicism and good luck. This is not a thriller, and avoids any temptation to crank up suspense or sentiment; it is the pianist's witness to what he saw and what happened to him. That he survived was not a victory when all whom he loved died.

It is a cold, harsh approach to a cold, harsh subject and the film treats its history with the utmost respect, detailing the experiences of one man and one journey whilst implying that many others exist. It is does not force emotion upon the viewer and neither does it try and suggest blame. It merely highlights the incomprehensible nature of war and examines the psychology of the human condition when people are forced to make horrifying decisions and act in terrible ways just in order to survive within their surroundings.

The film is based on the autobiography of Wladyslaw Szpilman, played by a gaunt Adrian Brody. Szpilman's family was prosperous and seemingly secure. His family takes heart from reports that England and France have declared war; surely the Nazis will soon be defeated and life will return to normal. But, it does not. The city's Jews are forced to give up their possessions and move to the Warsaw ghetto. Then the movie tells the long and incredible story of how Szpilman survived the war by hiding in Warsaw, getting help from acquaintances and strangers, and, mere luck.

An admirable quality of 'The Pianist' in regards to character is the honest approach to the human condition. The war has had a key impact on any number of people making for good Germans and bad Germans, good Jews and bad Jews and good Poles and bad Poles. Often only circumstance is to blame such as when an old, starving man knocks a tin of soup from out of a woman’s hands and begins to lick the liquid from the pavement whilst she hits him viciously with her handbag. It is a sorry sight and expertly shows that when push comes to shove there is in essence little that separates our race from the animal kingdom. 

'The Pianist' resists the urge to be dramatically satisfying, instead underplaying the big moments in order to tie in with the film’s unsentimental approach. Every turning point is sudden and unexpected much like life itself. In a split second Spzilman is taken away from his family, probably because of his repute, and we discover that he will never see them again. Then Spzilman spends a series of agonising moments whilst in hiding and we see literally no hope for him.

There is another haunting image in the film which occurs when a series of Jews have been ordered to lie down and take a bullet in the head. The officer moves one by one, casually murdering the men in front of him with a shot to the temple. As he approaches the final victim he runs out of ammunition. A cinematic interpretation of this moment would suggest that the man has been saved, spared his life by the hands of God. In the Pianist however there is no such luck. Quite simply, the officer reloads his pistol and kills the old man who has had to undergo the excruciating wait before being put out of his misery.

The closing scenes of the movie involve Szpilman's confrontation with a German captain named Hosenfeld, played by Thomas Kretschmann, who finds his hiding place by accident. Szpilman, half-crazed, half-starved and seemingly doomed to be rounded up. Hosenfeld, asks for his occupation, and Szpilman replies that he was(is) a pianist. Hosenfeld then leads him to a piano in the next room and instructs him to play. And Szpilman plays, plays his heart out. And Hosenfeld gazes. There is awe and admiration, especially for the talent, and respect for humanity in his eyes. Hosenfeld then decides to save Szpilman’s life and brings him food for few days. Polanski's direction of this scene, his use of pause and nuance, is masterful.

One scene which strikes out the most to me is when Szpilman, sitting on a chair, all withered and emaciated, plays an imaginary piano. His hands moved fluently as if the piano really was there, as if he heard and felt every single note. The war took away everything, just not his soul.

Polanski himself is a Holocaust survivor, saved at one point when his father pushed him through the barbed wire of a camp.  His own survival (and that of his father) are in a sense as random as Szpilman's, which is perhaps why he was attracted to this story. 

By showing Szpilman as a survivor but not a fighter or a hero--as a man who does all he can to save himself, but would have died without enormous good luck and the kindness of a few non-Jews--Polanski is reflecting, I believe, his own deepest feelings: that he survived, but need not have, and that his mother died and left a wound that had never healed.