|
1900
to everyone else, the child grows up in the bowels of the ship,
surrounded by a large and loving surrogate family, making endless
journeys between Europe and America, never leaving the ship and entirely
unknown to the outside world. Municipal
records of his birth and life may not exist, but 1900 left a lasting
impression on at least one person. After the end of World War II, a
down-and-out trumpet player, Max (Pruitt Taylor Vince: Mumford, The End
of Violence) wanders in a music store in London, where he discovers a
piano recording performed by 1900, which shouldn't exist. 1900 never set
foot on land and they don't make records onboard ships, do they? Max
says, and goes on to tell the store owner (Peter Vaughan: Horatio
Hornblower: The Wrong War, An Ideal Husband) -- and us -- the story of
1900.
"Entirely against the regulations," the eight-year-old 1900
wanders into the Virginian's ballroom late one night and spontaneously
begins playing the piano. By the time Max joins the ship's band in the
1920s, the adult 1900 (Roth) has established his reputation as a prodigy
who plays "music that's never been heard before" (indeed, the
score, composed by Ennio Morricone, is spectacular).
Simultaneously innocent and sophisticated -- sheltered from the larger
world yet meeting it, with each voyage the Virginian makes, 2000 people
at a time -- 1900 is an enigmatic figure, and Tim Roth gives the
performance of a lifetime. Mild-mannered and almost painfully shy away
from the piano, Roth lets all of 1900's passion, for music and for life,
fly when he sits down to the keys. Whether 1900, wild with glee, is
breaking into impromptu improv jazz on his grand piano during a sedate
set with the ballroom band, or finds himself so taken with the beauty of
a young immigrant girl (Mélanie Thierry) that she inspires him to
compose -- on the fly, on a battered old upright piano in a steerage
hold -- a hauntingly beautiful melody, Roth is hypnotic. He is at his
most effective, in fact, in almost wordless scenes, as during his heated
piano duel with jazz great Jelly Roll Morton (Clarence Williams III),
when 1900 switches from tears of joy at Morton's transcendent music to
fiery indignation at Morton's arrogance. And when 1900 makes his first
-- and last -- attempt to leave the Virginian, the conflicting emotions
crossing Roth's expressive face as he stands halfway down the gangplank
tell us much more about his bewilderment at the size of the world than
any dialogue could.
It's almost impossible not to fall in love with 1900 when you recognize
that he is the perfect metaphor for us today. We're meant to believe
that the world has gotten smaller, with global telecommunications and
cheap, fast air travel, but actually those technologies just make an
individual person's world much bigger. While the world of my
great-grandparents (in 1900's time) was limited to not much more than
the neighborhood in which they lived and the daily newspaper covered
mostly just the city around them, I can maintain ties with friends and
family on several continents and am bombarded with urgent news from
around the globe. 1900 is able to break the world into 2000-people
chunks and can watch it all pass by him from the safe confines of the
Virginian. We today haven't quite figured out how to do that yet. But
that we recognize 1900's confusion only makes him more endearing.
The Legend of 1900 is a movie to fall in love with, as well. Written and
directed by Giuseppe Tornatore (based on a play by Alessandro Baricco),
the film has a touch of the fantastical about it. In the overwhelming
scene that opens the movie, we watch the heartbreaking joy of immigrants
cheering at the sight of a very painterly Statue of Liberty looming over
the Virginian. It's not meant to be a realistic depiction of the
landmark but rather to convey the emotional impact of the moment on the
would-be Americans.
But the most wonderful scene in The Legend of 1900 is when Max, and the
audience, first meets the grown-up 1900. A storm is tossing the
Virginian violently about. 1900, strolling effortlessly around, shows
the desperately seasick Max, who can't keep to his feet, into the
ballroom. While the huge chandelier sways above them and chairs are
thrown about the ballroom, 1900, Max at his side, sits at his wheeled
grand piano and plays while the piano rolls around the ballroom. My poor
description does little justice to what is one of the most magical and
imaginative movie sequences I've ever seen. This is a glorious film. If
you're lucky enough to live somewhere near where it's playing on a big
screen (right now, that's only New York and Los Angeles), don't miss it.
|
I
won't be surprised to soon hear female moviegoers professing to be madly
in love with Tim Roth. 1900 -- yes, that's a name -- is the kind of
movie character with whom women fall madly in love, and infatuation like
that invariably spills over onto the actor portraying him. Not bad for a
guy whose career has mostly been spent playing hoodlums and heavies.