You wait for one show about an acclaimed pianist living under oppressive and persecuting conditions, and then two come along, at the same venue, within months of each other. After the success of Holy Fool, which spotlighted Shostakovich earlier this year, attention now turns to Jewish pianist and Holocaust survivor Władysław Szpilman in this powerful new musical, arriving at Park Theatre.
Set in Nazi-occupied Warsaw, the Szpilmans are a tightly knit family of Jewish musicians, led by exceptional pianist Władysław (a remarkable Daniel Krikler). As the Nazi occupation of Poland intensifies, the freedoms the Szpilmans have gradually erode, beginning with having to wear the Star of David as a method of social isolation, before the enormous ghetto walls surround and starve Warsaw’s Jewish community.
It is a horrendously accurate depiction of Jewish persecution during World War Two. Władysław’s family is murdered, and an impossible, haunting choice sees Władysław sent into hiding in a moving, evocative depiction of resilience, communal courage, and survival.
As Władysław, Daniel Krikler is extraordinary in portraying the renowned musician’s anguished, desperate self. This is a sophisticated leading performance, and Krikler responds terrifically to Thom Southerland’s direction to capture a lingering sense of hope and defiance in Władysław when all seems lost. Krikler’s depiction of Władysław’s departure from his family, to close Act One, is devastating, while his heartbreakingly tender and fragile portrayal standing atop a grand piano while in hiding much later is utterly absorbing.
What is particularly striking about The Pianist is its subtlety. Southerland’s refined, polished adaptation and direction do not shy away from the atrocities the Szpilmans faced, but the production does not choose to indulge in these horrors either. The violence, both physical and psychological, is largely implied, and instead the production is a much sharper, more impactful exploration of Władysław’s remarkable story, which ruminates upon loyalty and hope. Nazi officers appear and disappear, but their presence is continually felt as the joy and confidence of the Szpilmans are worn down, captured so beautifully and sorrowfully as the six crowd around a small meal together, revealed to be their final one.
The production is propelled by its vastly talented ensemble. The Szpilmans are a delightful family, funny, charming, and talented, and the production rightly affords much of the first half to exploring their characters, giving the family back a voice that was so cruelly robbed from them. Rosalind Ford’s gentle yet agonising portrayal of Władysław’s mother is deeply moving, while on the other side, TJ Holmes’s depiction of the pianist’s father is defiant and even deliberately frustrating, with the family’s patriarch refusing to deride the societal constraints being placed upon his community until it is too late. Meanwhile, Nitai Levi’s Henryk, Władysław’s defiant brother, represents those who fought back against the oppression, but the horrifying, mournful portrayal of the Szpilmans, slowly hidden by large wooden carriage doors and sent to their distressing fate, is one that lingers long after the piece ends.
Indeed, although billed as a musical, the production is careful not to take away from the bleak reality of Władysław’s existence through its music choices. Szpilman’s musical thrives in its mournful, resilient performance by this exceptional cast, while the large number of lyricists in the creative team, which also includes Władysław’s son Andreas, brings forward the pianist’s starkly real memories and horror, yet also lands on an unbreakable desire to live and survive. The music is played live by the cast, which helps to bring to the fore the remarkable musicality of the Szpilman family, while the creative gamble to have Władysław largely observe the piano being played (by incredible pianist Malcolm Forbes-Peckham) pays off in the production’s final moments.
Moreover, Andrzej Goulding’s set and video design is powerful yet unobtrusive. The decision to have a grand Yamaha piano centre stage, wheeled in and out during times of celebration and of crisis, is effective, and the way in which the piano is woven into the story, as a symbol of creative expression and defiance, works well here. While it is Władysław’s exceptional musicality that ultimately helps save his life, the piano also looms as a symbol of Władysław’s guilt about those, including his family, whom he could not save, and those who sacrificed themselves for him.
Although freed from Nazi rule after World War Two, oppression was never too far away from Władysław, whose 1946 memoir was suppressed by the communist regime after just 600 copies were printed. Eighty years later, the pianist’s life is finally heard in this lavish, harrowing, and roaring production that captures his hope, defiance, and resilience. Many tried to silence Władysław Szpilman, but in this gorgeously profound new musical, his life and his family finally get to be heard together once again. A triumph.
