Directed by: Francois Girard
  Written by: Francois Girard and Don McKellar
  Starring: Samuel L. Jackson, Don McKellar, Carlo Cecchi, Sylvia Chang, Greta 
  Scacchi, and Jason Flemyng
      
 Francois Girard's hauntingly beautiful film will exhaust you in the 
        same fashion as it did me. It wastes no time in spanning the globe - covering 
        multiple continents over a time period of roughly 300 years, a track record 
        that would make Indiana Jones proud. The various characters' lives touched 
        in profoundly different and powerful ways, leading the watcher through 
        a multitude of emotions. This film is also as pleasing to the eyes as 
        it is to the ears, as Alain Dostie's handy camera work is matched by John 
        Corigliano's music score. 
      
 Girard and cowriter Don McKellar, who also stars in the film, not only 
        spent quite a while on this project (and it shows!), but they have given 
        in a perfect title. The red violin on display throughout is the focal 
        point of this film and asymbol of utter perfection to the set of characters 
        who possess it. 
      
 The Red Violin tells the story of how one musical instrument 
        passes many hands through the centuries and touches an equal number of 
        hearts. The director is not only able to produce this effect on screen, 
        but he does it flawlessly by starting his story in present day Montreal, 
        where the violin is up for sale to a passionate throng, who are aware 
        of the unique beauty and history this beautiful object possesses. Among 
        them is Charles Morritz (solid work as usual by Samuel L. Jackson), an 
        appraiser, who's simply in love with the instrument. 
      
 Days before the actual bidding for the piece, Morritz spends endless 
        nights researching and analyzing the piece for its authenticity. As he 
        continues digging for the violin's origins, Girard guides the audience 
        through its history by presenting a handful of short stories of the violin's 
        previous owners. The team of Girard and McKellar do a fine job here as 
        the vignettes come together nicely as a whole, each weighing equally in 
        importance. 
      
 The film reveals that the instrument is first constructed in Italy, 
        in 1861 by master craftsman Nicolo Bussotti (Carlo Cecchi) for his unborn 
        son, who he dreams will someday become a violinist. His dreams are shattered 
        when his wife Anna (Irene Grazioli) dies in childbirth. The film then 
        fast-forwards a century later where the violin has made its way to an 
        order of monks, who run an orphanage near the outskirts of Vienna. It 
        soon becomes the property of one of the little boys: a shy and gifted 
        young musician named Kaspar Weiss (Christoph Koncz). The boy becomes attached 
        to it, but doesn't realize the true scope of its power. His mentor Georges 
        Poussin (Jean-Luc Bideau) does, however, and takes the young prodigy under 
        his wing. Poussin's intentions are all selfish at the start, but he quickly 
        finds himself falling in love with the little boy as a caring father figure. 
      
With time, the violin finds its way to a family of gypsies. It is here 
        where world famous concert violinist Frederick Pope (an amusing performance 
        by Jason Flemyng) comes into possession of the piece, which brings his 
        performances both at jam-packed concert halls, and in the bedroom with 
        his lover Victoria (period piece veteran Greta Scacchi) up a level. The 
        violin then winds up in a Shanghai pawnshop during the Cultural Revolution 
        in China. This is where a young woman named Xiang Pei (Sylvia Chang) does 
        anything she can to save it from destruction from those who view it as 
        a symbol of evil. The film ends where it begins: in the auction house 
        as bidders raise the stakes on the one thing that they must have and experience 
        for themselves. 
      
 The Red Violin works on many levels, and uses two different techniques 
        effectively, keeping the viewer involved. By following this approach, 
        he manages to effectively hold the viewer in suspense, while slowly building 
        up the tension throughout the course of the film. 
      
 The first technique involves the use of tarot cards. They are introduced 
        thanks to Bussotti's late wife Anna, who visits a fortune-teller to seek 
        out her future. What she doesn't know, however, is that the violin's (and 
        not her) future would be spelled out with the luck of the deck. The other 
        technique that the director employs, which could be seen as an annoyance 
        if not handled properly, is the recreation of scenes. For example, the 
        scenes at the auction house, which act as a gateway to the violin's past, 
        are re-shot at different angles. After each vignette, the audience is 
        transported back to the present day, where the bids on the violin continue. 
        At first you may be leery of this Jackie Brown type of story telling, 
        but you'll quickly appreciate its importance. 
      
 Although the various stories and performances are equally well constructed 
        and executed, it is hard not to point out the fine work of Tarantino-regular 
        Jackson, who shows his versatile range with a subdued performance in a 
        film that you just can't picture him in. The way in which he caresses 
        and looks at the instrument (as if he were the original owner himself) 
        is priceless and speaks volumes. 
      
 This is an excetionally effective period piece production, with handsome 
        photography and lavish costumes. Since the stories are featured in their 
        native tongues (there's very little English spoken in the film), the viewer 
        gets a good "international" taste and feel of how this violin does indeed 
        touch lives. You also don't have to be a music connoisseur to fall in 
        love with the film's soundtrack. You are rewarded twice: first, by the 
        director, whose film feels like a flawless musical composition, but then 
        (as a bonus) we also get to enjoy John Corigliano's musical score (with 
        the help of the London Philharmonic Orchestra).
      
 The Red Violin is the kind of film Four Rooms dreamed 
        of becoming. It works simply because all its elements successfully come 
        together as a whole producing a passionate and memorable piece of work. 
        By the end of the film, you'll find yourself also drawn to this haunting 
        portion of wood that's been shot at, broken, and pieced back together. 
        We appreciate its existence, how it develops a life of its very own, and 
        how someone like Charles Morritz, who never owned it and will never have 
        the money to purchase it outright, will do anything he can to have it 
        become a part of his life forever.