A grand piano accompanied by its carefree pianist
(Tim Roth) glide like a Ouija oracle across a
glorious marble-like dance floor aboard the teetering
cruise ship Virginia. It's 1926, the savant at the
keyboard is an orphan raised by the crew whose music
rages on in stormy waves; he has never set foot on
dry land.
The tale is a marvelous one, like a muted
trumpet's melody it plays. Conducted would be a
better word than directed, the film is accented
sharply with visual and audio hits that strike at the
right times. Tim Roth an under-appreciated actor of
excellence, will tickle your ivories with muse and
tug at your grand heart strings with sympathy --
portraying a pure soul uncomplicated by cities,
governments, or even an official name.
A coal throwing scene takes full advantage of the
surround sound capabilities today's theaters now
offer. If you aren't drawn into the dark belly of
this boat by the sound of tossed charcoal, look
around for a better movie house. I would have liked
to have heard this little-big film expand its use of
the multi-channeled system during musical
performances as well.
Nearly a masterpiece, this happily embellished
tour takes an odd turn just before reaching shore,
leaving me to disembark disoriented. I'd have written
an entirely different ending. Still, it is to be
remembered that this is a legend, a myth, a tale
docked at the edge of the surreal.
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