What a delightful little movie! Before seeing this film I had only heard of Glenn Gould from reading his name off the record sleeve of the Slaughterhouse-Five (1972) soundtrack. As I can’t say that I’m all that into classical concert piano, his name doesn’t tend to come up in conversation for me all that often. Having seen the film, the man now fascinates me. I’m compelled to seek his music out, as well as the numerous radio broadcasts he piloted and produced. I was afraid for a moment that I might give something away about the film in this essay before I realized there is nothing to give. The biggest surprise in the film comes when the pianist reveals at the height of his popularity that he intends to stop performing concerts. Since this nugget of information is the one bit that most people know about Gould anyway I don’t feel like I’m spoiling any surprises.
Still, there is more to the man than just his semi-reclusive nature. He didn’t give up performing because of the stress or drugs or emotional pain, though he experienced all of those things, or any of the other reasons stars leave the spotlight. He simply felt that recording technology negated the necessity of concert performance. He spent hours producing radio programs and waxing poetically about the world above the arctic circle, all things that seem relatively normal for a mild-mannered Canadian. In general, his story pales in comparison to that of Wladyslaw Szpilman, the protagonists of Polanski’s The Pianist (2002). Gould’s art is, at least in the film, produced amidst no backdrop of genocide or even major man vs. man conflict. The character here is fascinating because of his unique portrayal.
Instead of approaching his subject with a typical three-act biopic structure, director Francios Girard gives us just what his title notes, 32 scenes which fit together in a manner that gives more character than story. Some of these scenes consist of single shots which display little more than the title character sitting. Others are documentary style interviews of those who knew him. Still others are animated interpretations of his work. In all of these cases, relatively little information about the man is given away. Indeed, the film itself might be more appropriately titled “Thirty Two Short Films of Glenn Gould.” In fact, at the film’s conclusion relatively little that could be called insight into his character has been gleaned at all. The movie takes a simple stance to a complex man. Glenn Gould was an eccentric musical genius, who was popular, and well-liked by those who knew him. He died relatively young from a disease he had always believed would kill him.
Though the film is simple in its portrayal, its narrative is engaging. No scene lasts longer than five minutes, and those that are the lengthiest usually consist primarily of the performance of a classical piece. In one of the most breathtaking of these scenes Gould dances to the playback of a piece he has just recorded. This vignette is central to the film. Gould loved music. It was his passion, and he saw it in a way that few others could. The film ends by noting that it is Gould’s interpretation of Bach that is playing in outer space aboard the Galileo probe, waiting to be discovered by intelligent extra terrestrial life. That seems fitting.
Grade: 3.5 Hats Off
0 comments:
Post a Comment