Showtimes & Tickets Enter Zip Code:

THE PIANO TUNER OF EARTHQUAKES
Directed by: The Quay Brothers.
Produced by: Keith Griffiths, Alexander Ris, & Hengameh Panahi.
Written by: Alan Passes & the Quays.
Director of Photography: Nic Knowland.
Edited by: Simon Laurie.
Music by: Trevor Duncan & Christopher Slaski.
Released by: Zeitgeist Films.
Country of Origin: UK/German/France. 99 min. Not Rated.
With: Amira Casar, Gottfried John, Assumpta Serna, & César Sarachu.

If anyone has yet to see any of the other films from brothers Stephen and Timothy Quay, particularly their short works, then one might know that style triumphing over substance is no truer than in their new film. Their short films are truly mechanically alive, where stop-motion animation is used with industrial objects and other shapes to create very strange but engrossing experiences, like Gumby put through the steelworks. They even were influential in many music videos of the ‘90’s (especially those of the metal band Tool).

Shown here in their full-fledged theatrical glory, the film brings to mind some influences, like Jean Cocteau and, more contemporarily, Michel Gondry, even if the Quays relate more to obscure authors like Adolfo Bioy Casares and Raymond Roussel, who combined science fiction and poetry. Whatever the inspiration, like Cocteau seen in an early dream scene in which characters go backwards in time (like in The Blood of a Poet where a character did just that), this is the work of true originals.

That the final result of The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes is not really a great movie is a given when taking into account that the style of which the Quays have gone to almost perfectionist lengths to attain is always leaping ahead in strength when compared to the dialog or the performances. The story itself is meant as a clothesline, so to speak, for the Quays to relay their staggering mix of mediums. After an opera singer, Malvina (Amira Casar), dies during a performance (though not really “dead” but captured by Doctor Droz, the not-quite-Phantom of the Opera of the story), a mild-mannered piano tuner (César Sarachu) is sent out to Droz’s coastal estate, but not to fix pianos. Rather, he’s sent to repair an automaton, and soon discovers what is going to really happen – the staging of a crazy, other-worldly opera featuring the beautiful Malvina, and he decides he has to save her. The Quays’ choices in actors, including Gottfried John as Doctor Droz, are more based on appearances and physicality than really for ability in speech and emotion, not that they don’t have a moment or two when they connect with the poetic dialog.

To say it’s a feast for the eyes is an understatement, and to try and describe much of the Quays’ production design could make this too revealing and long a review. Yet it’s the abandon of the usual logic and going head-on into this world that earns their comparison to the likes of Cocteau. If one were to watch it with the sound turned off at home it wouldn’t make much of a difference with the visceral impact of it all. Their design keeps us in this world from the moment we see Dr. Droz’s castle, which is a computer-generated creation, but a much more intricate and detailed kind of set piece, cut and chiseled in rock and steel. Many of the scenes are set against the music of Trevor Duncan and Christopher Slaski, which is often atmospheric and creepy. With a very unsentimentally moving ending, The Piano Tuner knocks it out of the park, and should not disappoint the die-hard fans of the Quay brothers’ previous works. It’s also no surprise why it’s the only film that Terry Gilliam has ever had a producer credit that has not been one of his own directorial efforts. For the kind of filmgoer who loves what can come about through holding on to an idea and seeing it through in a fantastic manner, the movie’s a marvel. Just don’t try to make sense of it all. Jack Gattanella
November 17, 2006