reality is cruel and ruthless, ideals are holy and great;
dignity is inviolable, and true feelings are invincible;
survival is weak and vague, and art is reborn from ashes.
When a scholar meets a soldier, when a pianist meets a Nazi: "The Pianist", a history of Jewish blood and tears.
Poland, a nation that has experienced vicissitudes of life, a country that has nurtured countless artistic geniuses. A piece of land soaked in war, blood and tears, a spiritual symbol that shows incomparable tenacity and vitality.
Why are there tears in my eyes? Because I love her so much. From the beginning to the end of watching the movie, I seem to hear the master talking to himself all the time.
Great Roman Polanski, salute to you! Only you can shock a person's soul and accept baptism.
This is a movie that I watched with a heavy heart and breathless expression.
The nightmare of war is unforgettable and unforgettable. However, the necessary moment must be to reflect on our nation and ourselves in some way, such as movies.
Leaving aside the topic of nations for the time being, let’s just talk about human nature in war and the war between human natures.
The film focuses on the brutality of the Nazis in a very quiet and objective tone. The inhumanity of the Nazis as a contrast to peace is invaluable. Just like the last pianist staring at the rising sun, warm but not dazzling, the soft light touches the whole body and hugs the earth.
In the face of the incomparably powerful war machine, art is fragile; however, when the German colonel was facing the entire line of rout, he surprisingly converted to the beautiful sound of the violin comparable to Jesus, how powerful the might of art is! Polanski shows us the complex and multi-faceted human nature with this reasonable contradictory analysis, and expresses his strong praise for the spirit of art.
Bread and piano, life and ideal, which is more important?
To die with dignity, or to live with dignity?
Is it to preserve strength, or to die calmly?
Alive or dead, in the face of the arbor of the waste pond, art is so pale and weak.
In the ruins of the violinist, the hunger is unwilling to eat, and the gentle sweeps the floor, which makes people feel infinitely sad. The instinctive desire for a small piece of bread and a drop of sewage makes our heartache, heartbreak, and heartache. We have no reason not to tolerate a person and a living being in such a situation. We seem to see ourselves in him, a kind of self-reflection. This is a kind of sympathy in the extreme sense of life.
The more we experience the destruction of life, the more we must cherish the hard-won life.
Like a pianist's younger brother, you can live and die with evil forces for dignity and integrity. You can also, like a pianist, seek basic survival first and put ideals second for the time being... Values are very different, and the way of living is to have Extreme personality, but the pursuit of maximizing the value of life is the eternal positive theme that the film conveys to us.
Starring Edlin Brody's performance is quite successful.
Beneath the calm, seemingly peaceful exterior, is a sentimental and incomparably tenacious heart. Clear and straight limbs, fair and slightly morbid skin, long hair that is messy like grass, a pair of melancholy eyes that are infinitely pitiful and compassionate, the composure that she strives to maintain and the elegant demeanor that is not chaotic, her temperament is indeed charming. However, the most impressive thing is probably that Fang has always been stubborn and firm and reflects his iconic nose.
There are also countless green leaves that contrast the safflower.
The confidante Dorota and her husband with a Schindler-like chivalrous heart, the neurotic old woman who lost her beloved man and kept asking passers-by, the underground worker who maintained a revolutionary optimistic attitude in the war... The portrayal of each and every little person, Excellent rendering of the scene and the mood of the era. As the saying goes, there are only small people, no small characters. These outstanding personalities, wonderful, and infinitely memorable little people are really credited.
Outside the window, there was the rumbling smoke of gunfire, and groups of lifeforms, whose souls were swallowed by fear, were trampled like mud and weeds.
Indoors, I shrank in the broken quilt, facing my beloved piano lover, I could only keep a distance from her.
Thin, dexterous fingers, like butterflies, danced gracefully over the keyboard. The heart is full of suffering and endless longing: longing for peace, longing for life, longing for dignity, longing for art.
Justice finally triumphs over evil.
As long as there is a breath of life, the sound of the piano will always fly. In the sky above the ruins, there will always be a hymn of unyielding and indelible life.
My dear piano, loving you is like loving life.
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