La leggenda del pianista sull'oceano

This movie was given to me as a Christmas gift in 2004. My friends know my love of ships and movies, so they knew this would be something I was surely to like. And did I. I would have been deeply disappointed if I had seen this at the local CinePlex, because there are so many excellent scene's you will want to rewind an ponder over, even shed a tear or two. Its the story of a baby boy ( Tim Roth )who is found aboard an ocean liner( by actor Bill Nunn ), who spends his entire life aboard this ship. Its a movie that is wonderfully acted by all the cast. It moves with ease an always keeps you in a slight fog that lifts at the perfect moment. The piano score's are exquisite !!!I found it haunting and moving at the same time. This movie is 2 hours long, but it will glide by so quickly you will want for more. Without spoiling it, the ending scene is powerful, its..............well......I'll let you be the judge. Enjoy, Marco

"The Legend of 1900" wistfully tells its creative, capriciously unpredictable, and musical tall tale with excellence in all aspects of film from sets to sound, costume to casting, and script to screenplay. Roth and Vince work well together in this plaintive, simple story which will captivate those who can make the leap of faith required to "buy in". A good film for all but critics, "Legend" will likely resonate most with those who equate living with musical expression. La vita è musica.

On the first day of the twentieth century, an infant is discovered in the coal room aboard a luxury liner. The worker (Bill Nunn) who discovers the child on The Virginian names him 1900 or more accurately Danny Boodmann T.D. Lemon Nineteen-Hundred. Eight years later the boy loses his "father" in a ship accident but discovers an amazing ability to play the piano and a legend is born. It is indeed The Legend of 1900, a fable by Giuseppe Tornatore (Cinema Paradiso) based on a dramatic monologue by Italian novelist Alessandro Baricco. The story is about a musical prodigy who spends his life aboard a ship, sailing back and forth between the U.S. and Europe, entertaining the passengers with his unique talent but never sharing it with the rest of the world.

The film is narrated by Max (Pruitt Taylor Vince), an American saxophone player whom we meet at the beginning as he tries to pawn his trumpet. On leaving the shop, however, he hears the only recording 1900 ever made, a master that he had broken into pieces but that was later restored. When he finds out that the master came from a ship about to be demolished, he rushes to save 1900 whom he is sure is still aboard. In the process, he tells his story to convince others that 1900 exists. Through flashbacks we learn about 1900 and how he navigated his life from stem to stern. The question throughout the film is whether or not 1900 will abandon the ship and set foot on land? There is a hint that he might do so after he meets a beautiful young woman (Melanie Theirry). She inspires him to compose a beautifully expressive love song while gazing at her through a window, but the only thing that remains is the last copy of the record and an enduring memory.

The Legend of 1900 creates its own world and I confess it is one that I got lost in. This is a lovely film that has a heart. It is sentimental without question but is redeemed by the glorious music by Ennio Morricone, beautiful cinematography by Lajos Koltai, and a terrific jazz piano duel between the adult 1900 (Tim Roth) and Jelly Roll Morton played by Clarence Williams III. 1900's world has clearly defined limits and he is fearful of venturing beyond. Land represents for him a place without boundaries, where people can get lost, a place without beginning or end. To me, The Legend of 1900 may be a metaphor for people who find a comfortable niche for themselves in life and are afraid to take risks to see what the possibilities are. In many cases, as with 1900, the world will never know the contribution they might have made.

As its pianist, this film could be bound for success, but the fact is, it remained relatively obscure. I can't understand why did a movie with this deepness and feeling end up in oblivion. Because, if there are some beautiful movies, this is one of them, from the moment that fantastic Ennio Morricone score begins until we witness the tear-jerking finale. An epic story from tip to toe, we journey through the original story of a man who becomes a pianist on board the boat where he was born. And as he grows, so does the fascination by the others in his art and the questions whether he should take that leap overboard and become a "normal" person. A brilliant movie, from the man who brought us "Cinema Paradiso" and made us all cry, this won't disappoint you, and it's worth by Morricone's score alone. The sequence where the piano floats freely through the dance hall is anthological. A legend of its own.

It is quite inexplicable to me why many North-American critics and viewers have a visceral negative reaction to sentimental Italian movies. By Italian I don't mean necessarily the language but a certain easily identifiable directorial style. So this category contains movies such as _Il Postino_, _Cinema Paradiso_, _Malena_, but also English language films such as _Stealing Beauty_ and _The Legend of 1900_.

What they all have in common, besides beautiful cinematography, is that they try, quietly and modestly but nevertheless ambitiously, to investigate some aspects of the very essence of the human soul. The emotion used by many such movies, especially the ones directed by Tornatore, is nostalgia: by understanding the pain of irrecoverable loss we are supposed to understand what we truly needed. These movies express perfectly HL Mencken's definition of the artist as "one who observes the eternal tragedy of man with full sympathy and understanding, and yet with a touch of god-like remoteness."

However, for reasons I fail to understand, the unavoidable sentimentality of these movies bothers many critics and casual viewers to no end. It's true that sentimental art exposes itself the most to irony and cynicism, but it is nevertheless disappointing to see many critics taking advantage of its vulnerability and indulging in hitting hard and hitting low against such movies. No wonder that art in general, not only movies, is nowadays almost devoid of sentimentality. Artists choose to clad themselves in critic-proof armors of irony and sophistication. Honesty has long become a dangerous no-win proposition.

So I say 'Bravo!' to Tornatore for having the courage to give us some bullshit-free insight into ourselves by showing us what moves us and why. I also say 'Boo!' to the critics who don't get it, and who mistake their expectations and biases for some kind of objective artistic standard.