Der Teufelsgeiger

This is what it would be like.

It wasn't entirely unwatchable, but it was not a good movie by any means. CGI was distracting, although if you look at it as art, they did a good job, just not realistic enough to be passable.

I was surprised Bernard Rose was the writer and Director, who also did the same for Immortal Beloved. Perhaps this movie was just missing Gary Oldman? The movie seems to be confused whether Paganini is the main character or not. It is filled with sub-par, some acceptable, and some over-acted performances. I thought Andrea Deck was good. David Garrett as Paganini, well, maybe his performance was more related to the script. I did enjoy all his performance scenes (performing on the violin, you dirty minded people you).

Am I the only one that noticed St. Patrick's Cross flag flying over London? You'd think Bernard Rose, an Englishman, would catch that. It was clearly in the hands of the Syfy special effects gurus at this point, so maybe the he had no hand in post-production. Or maybe there was a time England was flying the British version of the Irish flag that I don't know about? I doubt it.

Overall, this movie was not great enough to be good, and not bad enough to be great. It falls right in the middle, as most forgettable movies do.

To cop to another reviewer's judgement of me as a "pinhead" I loved this movie because: 1. I had never heard of David Garret and became more mesmerised by his violin playing the longer the movie lasted. 2. Mr. Garrett does not deserve an Oscar for his acting abilities but he deserves my praise and much praise from others for his musical performances in the movie. 3. I was deeply moved and inspired by his abilities to make the violin sing to me. 4. I know the movie is not a definitive historical work but it paints a broad enough brush for non-experts like to enjoy a long lasting "buzz" from the dazzling violin performance of Mr. Garrett.

In fact I spent some time on YouTube enjoying several other performances of Mr. Garrett. So this "pinhead" is now a die hard fan of the movie, Mr. Garrett and his supporting cast. I appreciate all of the hard work and effort that the writers, producers, directors and performers put into this lovely work.

This "pinhead" can appreciate criticism of the movie but the bitter, vitriol and ad hominem attack upon the people who worked hard to create is way overkill. The Devil's Violinist is not perfect but it certainly is "good enough."

The film is good even if i ido not considered a true version of Paganini's life. I know it is not a documentary but it could have been done more.

I appreciate the effort to show real characters like Paganini's son and father but otherwise it is very fictional and there was no real need for it because his life was already a novel.

From unbridled success to accusations of a pact with the devil there was a lot to tell. In a way they tried with the figure of Urbani one of the most successful and enigmatic characters in the film but otherwise I didn't see much.

They recounted one episode of his life (the London concert) while the rest were shown in a few scenes as if they were in a hurry to finish the film.

He is a very poor actor. His acting in this film was exact the opposite of his natural talent playing with his violin, maybe the worst ever actor I've ever seen so far. This film was also doomed and suffered from a very bad screenplay at the very beginning. The only thing that was so out of the world in this film was his crazy talent with the violin. You should watch and enjoy what he did in this film with his music but not his acting which in fact, was just terrible.

Niccolò Paganini (David Garrett) is a virtuoso violinist, stolen from Italian obscurity by the serpentine Urbani (Jared Harris) and brought to swinging 19th century London on the request of struggling promoter John Watson (Christian McKay). There his lascivious urges and his musical genius find equal outlet, until his heart is attuned to Charlotte (Andrea Deck), with whom he shares a harmonious partnership. Tragedy encroaches, however, as those who brought Paganini to the top conspire to cast him into the gutter once more.

What is the truth of Paganini? Bernard Rose's biopic plays fast and loose, which shouldn't matter because art strives for universal truths. Yet such striving often leads to cliché, as has happened here. As an instrument the violin lends itself well to furious solos, so the transition from classical musician to rock god is easy – throw in some long shaggy hair and stubble and sunglasses and we've basically got ourselves a Georgian Ozzy Osbourne. Not that the film is terribly anarchic. Early on we get some Dogma 95-influenced hand-held camera and hack 'n' slash editing but it soon gives way to familiar period stageyness.

Rose's film exists in the same realm as Milos Forman's Amadeus and touches on some of the same themes – genius emerging from chaos, both a creative and destructive force – but it's a relatively shallow movie, and one whose TV budget cannot be elevated by its impressively crashing classical soundtrack and its smoggy capital exteriors. Forman's film had a force-of-nature at its centre in the form of Tom Hulce. The Devil's Violinist has David Garrett, who's a wonderful violinist but no actor. Alarm bells ring when a character is meant to be thinking hard about something and actually grabs their chin.

But then, could any actor have provided a sympathetic portrayal? How charming is any man this juvenile; this unprofessional? Why should we care for a man who whinges about being "misunderstood" in one breath then dismisses his fans with the next? How do we side with someone who claims to love another and then accidentally shags a complete stranger with the same hair colour? Better writing and an actual actor might have helped us answer these questions.

Garrett isn't very well-supported, to be fair. Harris turns a scheming snake into a pantomime villain. Joely Richardson is gobsmackingly miscast as a cockney troublemaker. And while Alien Isolation fans may be pleased to see Andrea Deck in her full feature debut, I wouldn't expect the scripts to start piling on her doormat on the basis of this. But then, again, Charlotte is bafflingly written: she's genuinely repulsed by Paganini – a player and a player – only to spin on a sixpence once she hears him knock out a few notes, melody apparently trumping manners.

Rose has a firm hold of his film's darkly humorous tone, and the musical performances are, inevitably, spectacular (almost worth the rental fee alone, if for some reason an actual David Garrett Live DVD isn't available). But the decision to build a movie around a real musician backfires horribly, and with a bland and over-familiar script ("Who is the real you?" one character genuinely asks) it has to go down as a handsome, tuneful failure.