REGARDING POLANSKI AND 'THE PIANIST'

It turns out I'm not the only person to have noticed Polanski's unforgivable omission in "The Pianist." Many readers messaged that they also noticed it.

First, here's the reply from my friend Alan M. Edelson, whose admiration for "The Pianist" got me started:

I found your take on the film very interesting. Still, it does not change my mind about finding the film powerful. Yes, there was some Hollywood string pulling, which one has come to expect. I agree totally that the omission of the family's fate in the scroll is a huge gaff. Was it deliberate, or was it stupidity? Having published a lot of stuff in books and journals, and seen a lot of gaffs, I am inclined to believe in the stupidity explanation. And I think the German officer was more than a good touch---I think it was useful, to show an appreciation of the fact/possibility that some Germans didn't feel entirely immune to empathy, which I believe was the case. I don't feel that these factors should undermine your overall critical assessment.

I have to say I don't think the omission was deliberate either. But Polanski's carelessness, in this case, is still unforgivable. Another reader wrote:

I think you're right. My mom had the same reaction -- like the Germans get these mega-points for simply acting like any decent person should. On the other hand, I think Polanski is a subtle enough filmmaker that you can look at the picture in different ways. One of the elements of the story, I thought, was that [the pianist] Szpilman was a self-absorbed guy who really didn't care much about anything other than his art or himself.

One reader had this to say:

I read that article by Thane Rosenbaum and, actually, he ultimately rejects the German desire to say "enough" to Holocaust recriminations. As to your review, I couldn't agree more about "The Pianist." -- Matthew Butcher

If I implied otherwise about Rosenbaum's article, I didn't intend to. Meantime, a reader pointed out my error (since corrected) of referring to Rosenbaum as a woman. I should have realized that. After all, the Thane of Cawdor (i.e. Macbeth) was a man. This reader had fun with my reply:

Thane's Jewish roots are in Poland, so he can be considered the Thane of Cracow. Or, as his Yiddishe mamme used to say, Bei meir bist du Thane. If it's all the Thane to you, I'll go back to translating George Whatever Bush's press-conference remarks into English. The assignment's from Vice Prevaricator Cheney himself.
-- Leon Freilich

The most passionate message came from a regular reader who prefers to remain anonymous:

Mr. Herman -- Your observation and criticism of Polanski is absolutely on point. It is a disgusting omission. I think the more important question is, "Why?" My personal opinion is that people refuse to come face to face with the capacity for evil which exists in each of us. This leads to some interesting mythology surrounding the Holocaust which, on occasion, is expressed in films such as "The Pianist."

The most pervasive myth surrounding the Holocaust is that it was the work of a very small number of Nazi fanatics. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Never forget that, at a time when Germany was considered one of the most civilized, best educated countries in the world, Hitler and the Nazi party were elected by the voters (although by less than a majority in a runoff). Hitler and the Nazis spoke openly of the need to exterminate the Jews (and the Russians for that matter) as far back as the publication of "Mein Kampf," in 1929, if memory serves.

The actual state-sponsored killing of Jews was carried out by a bureaucracy which employed tens of thousands of people. The record keeping was meticulous. The average German citizen not only knew full well the crimes being committed by his or her government, they supported those actions.

It's interesting to note that the U.S. soldiers who fought in Europe during World War II did not like our British allies. Found them cold and distant. The GI's didn't typically like our French allies. Found them arrogant. The GI's identified most closely with the hard working, obedient Germans. How can we, as a country, resolve our disgust for the Holocaust with our affection for the people who committed the acts? By convincing ourselves that the typical German citizen was not only blissfully, innocently ignorant of the crimes, but that, when he or she was able to pierce the veil of secrecy which surrounded the Holocaust, they took heroic steps to intercede. This view is historically inaccurate and morally wrong.

By refusing to recognize the complicity of the average German citizen (whom we really like) in the crimes of his or her government, we miss an opportunity and avoid an obligation to examine the events which resulted in the institutional murder of more than 6,000,000 Jews and almost 25,000,000 Russians. This is tragic in that it denies humanity the ability to identify the factors which allowed the crimes to be committed and thus, denies humanity an important tool in the prevention of future crimes. (I know the word "crimes" fails to convey the monstrous nature of the acts, but is the only word I can think at the moment.)

So, what does this have to do with Polanski and "The Pianist?" Well, by simply ignoring the fate of the pianist's family, Polanski can ignore the pervasive presence within Germany of mass murder in the industrial age. He never has to explain or even face the complicity of most of the German population.

This complicity flies in the face of the more important and more subtle message of the film. The message being that many Germans, such as the officer martyred in the end, objected to the actions of the German government, resisted to the extent of their ability, and died heroically as a result. Somehow, I suspect that the true, documented number of such individuals is depressingly small.

As if to bring us all up to speed, 74-year-old billionaire George Soros, "one of the world's richest men," tells the Washington Post that he believes "America, under Bush, is a danger to the world" and that "a 'supremacist ideology' guides the White House."

Soros "hears echoes in its rhetoric of his childhood in occupied Hungary," the Post reports. "When I hear Bush say, 'You're either with us or against us,' it reminds me of the Germans.' It conjures up memories, he said, of Nazi slogans on the walls, Der Feind Hort mit ('The enemy is listening'). 'My experiences under Nazi and Soviet rule have sensitized me,' he said." Defeating Bush in the 2004 presidential election has thus become "the central focus" of his life. It's "a matter of life and death," he told the Post in an interview.