The Red Violin (Le Violon Rouge)

(Note: I tried to avoid the trite and obvious approach of peppering this review with musical allusions. Forgive me if one or two slipped past.)

What do the following people have in common: a 17th century fiddle-maker in Cremona, Italy; a young orphan with a prodigious musical talent in 18th century Vienna; a famous British Lord performing during the reign of King George III; a lover of Western music struggling through the Chinese Cultural Revolution; and a musicologist in modern-day Montreal? The answer: the Red Violin. Not only is that the name of the instrument that lies at the center of François Girard's new film, it's the movie's title, as well. Appropriately, the picture relates the story of the violin from its genesis in 1681 to its sale at auction in 1997.

Girard has assembled a huge international cast to present five key episodes in the violin's history. In the first, the creator, Nicolo Bussotti (Carlo Cecchi) labors on the instrument as a present for his unborn child. Meanwhile, his wife, Anna (Irene Grazioli), uncertain about the stability of her pregnancy, seeks advice on the future from a fortune-teller. A century later, the violin has become the property of an orphanage outside of Vienna. It is there that Georges Poussin (Jean-Luc Bideau) discovers it in the possession of an amazing prodigy, young Kaspar Weiss (Christoph Koncz), whom he intends to instruct himself. Soon afterwards, Lord Frederick Pope (Jason Flemyng), a popular concert violinist, takes possession of the fiddle and makes it his instrument of choice. But, as his career flourishes, his personal life is thrown into turmoil when his beloved mistress, Victoria (Greta Scacchi), leaves him behind to take a trip to Russia. By the early 20th century, the violin has come into the possession of Xiang Pei (Sylvia Chang) in Shanghai, but she must hide it or face punishment from an establishment that deems all Western instruments to be a corrupting influence. When the violin re-surfaces in 1997 Montreal, Charles Morritz (Samuel L. Jackson) and Evan Williams (Don McKellar) work to restore the instrument so it can bring a huge price at auction.

With their 1993 film, Thirty-Two Short Films About Glenn Gould, writer/director Girard and co-writer Don McKellar used a series of often-disconnected vignettes to assemble a compelling portrait of a musical genius. Their approach here is similar, although there are five episodes rather than 32. However, the subject of the film is an inanimate object, not a human being, and this blunts The Red Violin's effectiveness. While it's of passing interest to learn the tale of the violin, it's not as compelling as unraveling the psyche of Glenn Gould. The need to cram five complete stories into 130 minutes causes parts of The Red Violin to feel truncated and rushed.

The best of the segments is the Vienna one, where we a develop a deep empathy for the down-on-his luck teacher and his quiet, frail pupil. This is the only one of the five stories where the audience really connects with the characters. The least involving segment is the Chinese one, where the complex issues of the Cultural Revolution are reduced to a few warring slogans over the value of a violin. Really, all of the episodes deserve more exposure; forcing them into a 25-minute time frame robs them of an element of depth and vitality. The epic scope of the project almost demands a longer running length.

One curious choice made by Girard and McKellar is the use of the flash-forward as a transition device. The stories are tied together by employing inserts from the 1997 auction, where representatives of the descendants of the instrument's past possessors are preparing to bid, as a means to move from one segment to the next (these inserts show the auction from different vantage points). It's an interesting, although not wholly successful, approach that occasionally makes the viewer aware of the seams in the script. (A second transition device - a fortune-teller reciting portentous riddles as she turns over cards - is less effective.) There's also a "surprise" disclosure near the end (about the nature of the instrument's color) that's anything but surprising; the film makers should have given the audience credit for deducing this transparent revelation about 100 minutes earlier.

The Red Violin is a beautifully composed motion picture. At times, it's a near-perfect mingling of the visual and the audio. The cinematography, by Alain Dostie, features a number of memorable images. Some, like a view of the Alps, are stunning. Others, like a shot looking out through the violin's "S" at Samuel L. Jackson, are intriguing. The soundtrack is rich, as one might expect from a motion picture about an instrument that is variously referred to as "a masterpiece of the golden age," "the perfect marriage or science and beauty," and "the single most perfect acoustic machine."

The ensemble cast is diverse and accomplished, but, because of the time constraints, no one has enough time to register much of a positive or negative impression. There are a few exceptions. Jason Flemyng is difficult to accept as an 1800 nobleman. He doesn't look or act the part. Samuel L. Jackson, on the other hand, continues to impress with his versatility. This is a subdued performance, and it's well within the actor's capabilities. One scene in particular stands out: a lengthy close-up of Jackson's face as the violin is being played. It's possible to see a variety of emotions flicker across those features.

Movies that follow objects rather than characters are always difficult to craft, and the central item often ends up being little more than a gimmick used to tie together unrelated narratives (see The Dress for a recent example). Girard and McKellar avoid that trap, which is one reason why The Red Violin works. Another is that the film offers a wonderful trip through three centuries and across several countries (a nice touch: all of the characters speak the languages appropriate to their locales). The Red Violin may not succeed on every level, but it's still a pleasing and fascinating excursion.

© 1999 James Berardinelli