SHINE

1/4

Australia-1996 Fine Line Features/Momentum Films 105min
Directed by Scott Hicks

Without that conceptual guidance, it is left to the story's subject to provide the meaning, and there is an inherent flaw in that, for this film. More on that later.

SHINE is the story of David Helfgott, a Polish-Australian pianist. Sort of a Daddy-Dearest tale that chronicles the decline of the young man as he is driven relentlessly by his father {played by Armin Mueller-Stahl, who garnered a best supporting nomination for his work} toward a goal that is unattainable primarily (according to the movie) because:

A-It is never concrete. The father pushes the son towards an unspecified perfection-- without any real destination in mind. Certainly, it is without any decided course of action to attain any specific goal. As if the boy is expected to realize his father's dreams by employing some sort of demented "think system." And,

B-It involves the "Rach 3." Rachmaninoff's 3rd Piano Concerto--the "most difficult piece ever." Something he's not ready to tackle, we are told repeatedly by his mostly ignored first music teacher. This does not deter his college-level instructor {played by John Gielgud} from working with David to perfect the piece.

Now, in the film, we notice that he's losing it before he really begins to dive into the piece. He begins forgetting dressing details, for instance. Like pants.

Prior to seeing the film, most of what I heard indicated that the push to perfect his performance of Rachmaninoff is what sent him into the spiral of a nervous breakdown. I didn't catch that. What I saw was a gradual descent that was almost entirely centered on his relationship with his father. While it is true that the nadir of this psychological plummet is the performance of his much-practiced piece, I never got the sense that it was the great difficulty or passion of the work that brought on his downfall.

Of course it's a hard thing to pinpoint. SHINE deals with a man that is very much alive and real. The complexities are explored, but a movie is a movie, and the conclusions that can be drawn from what the film tells us seem suddenly inconsequential whenever that man is thought of. Trying to reach any real assessments of reasons or motives seems as pointless as trying to determine the guilt or innocence of a person on trial by reading the tidbits in the paper. What business do we have in making such a decision without all the facts at hand? Likewise, how can we presume to have any substantial opinions regarding the dramatic questions of blame, guilt, or accountability without more fully knowing the natures of those involved?

Yet this is the position the movie puts us in. A position in which we are to judge the actions of the father, and the effects upon the son, against the archetypes of tragedy. In a well-written play, this is a matter for philosophical debate. In a movie about a real man, whose story we know fractionally at best, it is dangerously trite.

Which brings us back to the fundamental flaw: in a story whose thematic construction is centered on the understanding of its central character's development, how can there be any closure--therefore any coherent theme--when the movie must end before the story is through and when the basic elements cannot possibly be fathomed in two hours?.

This is not to say it's a bad movie. It might be presumptuous, but it is nicely constructed. Besides, it has a quietly wonderful metaphor. In a key scene, the father comes to realize that he has broken the instrument that is his son every bit as thoroughly as his father smashed his cherished childhood violin to bits.

That is a great moment in the film. That entire scene, in fact. They have not seen each other in years, we presume, and upon seeing each other, it isn't long before they are set right back into their old roles. The father lights into an oft-repeated account of his father's cruelty and wanton destruction of his dream, only to come to a faltering halt as the parallel dawns on him for the first time. Like I said, a great scene. One that, once you realized the reunion between the two was about to happen, left you wondering how Geoffrey Rush, the actor, would handle David's handling of the event.

Geoffrey Rush does such an outstanding job in this movie that critiquing it becomes a painful thing. Almost harsh in a personal way, because his portrayal of the musician is so completely whole. The teenage David is no less arresting in his characterization. The personality involved is one that must be consuming, because both actors seemed to be swallowed up very convincingly.

I'm looking back on this film from the perspective of David Helfgott's American tour having long since begun. I'm not sure if it is still running, but the reviews from the initial performances (it started in Boston) were in months ago, and were not favorable. At least as far as his playing was concerned. The music critics chopped it to bits, as a matter of fact, as a childish performance. The review I liked was one I heard on NPR. It very appropriately told of how voyeuristic the critic felt going to the concert. It was as if the packed theatre was waiting not only for a breathtaking performance, but also for possible antics on the part of the performer. Not exactly the reason for attendance at a typical...adult...piano recital.

The movie has a glimmer of this feeling in it, if only because the story has not concluded. He is not healed, precisely, nor--apparently--has his talent reached again the level that the movie implies (at least according to the critics). A work in progress that reaches just slightly for its theatrical coda.

The justification was articulated with surprisingly sound reasoning in Geoffrey Rush's Golden Globe acceptance speech (mysteriously included in the video--perhaps for exactly this reason). He speaks of the movie's taking a person that is normally marginalized, and bringing his story to center stage; providing a formerly unheard perspective that is valuable not only for its rarity, but for the courage in finding this depth in a societal niche that others largely ignore.

So while the movie is well-done, I worry that its undertaking might inherently trivialize the very story it seeks to understand.