Elina, да, Вы правы! Я пересмотрела видео снова и теперь уже услышала слова женщины "Это ангел"
А на счет скрипки Паганини - он четко говорит, что в музее.

Film Review: ‘The Devil’s Violinist’

January 28, 2015 | 10:52AM PT

David Garrett's musical gifts far outstrip his acting chops in Bernard Rose's creaky 19th-century melodrama.

Nick Schager
@nschager

David Garrett’s musicianship is the sole virtuosic element of “The Devil’s Violinist,” a creaky drama in which the world-renowned German violinist assumes the role of real-life 19th-century Italian violinist and composer Niccolo Paganini. Written and directed by Bernard Rose, who found success 21 years ago with his Beethoven-centric “Immortal Beloved,” a true story that was similarly given the fictionalized treatment, the film is proof of both Garrett’s titanic skill at putting bow to string, and his decidedly less accomplished gifts as an actor. Providing a performance that’s so wooden and unconvincing that his director habitually cuts away from his face during dialogue — the better to mask the awkwardness of his line deliveries — Garrett proves a washout in this formulaic period piece, whose minimal commercial prospects are unlikely to extend beyond the star’s most rabid fans.

Rose opens his tale with a cursory prologue scene in which a young Paganini is smacked by his father for writing and playing an inventive composition, though the subsequent story makes only passing reference to daddy issues as a cause of the violinist’s problems. Rather, as embodied by the long-haired Garrett as a morose brooder in dark overcoats and sunglasses, Paganini comes off as a proto-grunge rocker bitter over his lack of popularity. The mockery he receives at early shows amplifies his consuming despair, thus leaving him an ideal target for the mysterious Count Urbani (Jared Harris), who appears at the maestro’s door and promises him the fame and fortune he craves, so long as he agrees to sign a contract that promises Urbani unspecified domain over Paganini in both this life and the next.

Decked out with a cane, a black-and-red cape, and a pronged goatee, Urbani is instantly recognizable as the devil, and the Faustian bargain he strikes with Paganini nets the violinist instant stardom, even as the artist becomes consumed by addictions to drugs and gambling. Rose dramatizes his action by weighting his action’s focus away from Garrett’s blank-faced pouting and toward his other stars, who compensate by dispensing every expression and line reading with maximum hamminess. That includes not only the scenery-chewing Harris, but also Joely Richardson as a corrupt reporter with a head of exploding red curls, and Christian McKay as John Watson, a frazzled British promoter who succeeds in luring the in-disrepair Paganini to London for a series of shows that Watson hopes will alleviate his family’s severe financial troubles.

That development at least allows “The Devil’s Violinist” to properly showcase its headliners’ musical genius, particularly during a sold-out concert in which Paganini, arriving late and then wowing a crowd filled with screaming and fainting girls, blasts his way through intricate violin pieces with the type of shredding-showman flair that would make Eddie Van Halen proud. Yet as Paganini begins a romance with Watson’s daughter Charlotte (Andrea Deck), whose singing aspirations he encourages even as Urbani attempts to sabotage their union, the film resorts to hackneyed melodramatic scenarios that merely further highlight Garrett’s affected emoting.

Less stilted is Rose’s direction, which boasts a graceful fluidity that’s sorely lacking from his cast’s alternately under- and over-cooked turns. While his handheld cinematography serves as an occasionally clumsy means of heightening intimacy and immediacy, and his exterior shots of old-world London and New York are sabotaged by cheesy CG-enhanced matte-painting backgrounds, Rose’s stewardship is generally assured. His writing, however, is considerably less adept, resulting in one on-the-nose verbal exchange after another, and a narrative that eventually finds itself devolving into a morass of hastily sketched cliches.

http://variety.com/2015/film/reviews/fi … 201417195/

EDIT: перевод - в посте 158

The Devil's Violinist

Simon Abrams
January 30, 2015

While "The Devil's Violinist," an arresting biopic about inspired/possessed violinist and composer Niccolo Paganini, ends on a sour note, it's also beautiful and thoughtful. Writer/director Bernard Rose ("Immortal Beloved," "Candyman") is in his element here, and he packs a lot of nuance into his fictionalized account of Paganini's eventful trip to London, during which time he performed for the King of England at the Royal Opera House. Rose presents Paganini as a public figure who simultaneously encourages and resists the rumors and myths that defined his seemingly frenzied, virtuosic style. The film's version of Paganini is in that sense simultaneously bigger-than-life and smaller than his reputation, an artist who is ultimately enslaved by his talent. It's an anti-romantic biography about a great artist, one whose central themes are basic, but whose energy and execution is irresistible.

Rose articulates his film's generic story through a densely-layered scenario that's performed, paced, visualized, and directed with great care. The film begins as a variation on Goethe's "Faust" since that's the popular narrative of Paganini's public life. After an unappreciative music hall crowd half-jeers and half-applauds his performance of "The Spanish Dance," a playful caprice comprised of themes for farm animals, Paganini (real-life violinist David Garrett) makes a deal with a devilish man named Urbani (Jared Harris) who promises fame and glory--after Paganini signs his life away. This scene is important since it establishes the central role of myths and narrative-making in "The Devil's Violinist," a story that serves as a counter-narrative that ultimately doesn't go anywhere worth remembering. Still, Paganini was a musician defined by his manic performances and infamous reputation as a gambler, drinker, and seducer, so it makes sense that Urbani is, in the beginning, Mephistopheles to Paganini's Faust.

Thankfully, Rose presents Urbani as a minor Devil, someone who brokers deals through letters, and makes commands with a ridiculous Peter Lorre-esque accent (Seriously, where did Harris pick this accent up? It's simultaneously abysmal and endearingly silly). Case in point: when desperate social-climber John Watson (Christian McKay) promises the Royal Opera House's manager that he can deliver Paganini for at least ten performances, Watson and Urbani make a deal through an anxious series of letters. There is nothing mystical, nor especially mysterious about this mutually parasitic exchange since "The Devil's Violinist" is only partially grounded in a romanticized version of reality. Pagani's story is about the creation of artists' stories, so it stands to reason that "The Devil's Violinist" eventually becomes a frustrated romance, one that follows Paganini's affair with Watson's daughter Charlotte (Andrea Deck), a coloratura soprano singer. Paganini and Charlotte's affair is never that interesting since Garett and Deck have no chemistry, but it's thankfully only one large plot thread amongst several.

There's so much else going on in "The Devil's Violinist" that its main subject's romance doesn't really matter. Most of the film's weakest aspects highlight something interesting, like how Rose clearly encouraged Harris, Garrett, and McKay to over-emphasize the stilted, actorly qualities in their performances for the sake of drawing attention to their characters' nervous habit of, well, acting for each other. Garrett's performance is the most interesting of this bunch since he mostly holds his head in his hand, and hides behind quietly pained grimaces--until he's performing. When Garrett plays, he not only comes alive, but looks like someone that's willing himself to orgasm just by scowling.

Garrett's performance isn't great, but it does work in its context since Paganini constantly (and fruitlessly) fights his reputation, though he only achieves fame by selectively embracing it. This is evident in one of the film's best scenes, the one where Paganini's seduces a bar-full of angry publicans, breaks his violin's strings mid-performance, and then keeps on playing with what looks like two or three strings. He can't stop himself from performing. He's enthralled by his passions, making the most of Garrett's constipated glares during his otherwise inspired performance of Paganini's 24th caprice. There's a world of sublimated tension swimming under Garett's eyes, and while that's probably too much pantomime for a non-professional actor to skilfully manage, there's also something to be said for a sensibly campy performance.

With that in mind, "The Devil's Violinist" is the kind of movie that constantly threatens to blow up, but is just too holistically engaging to ever fall apart. Narrative sides involving muckraking journalist Ethel Langham (Joely Richardson) and picturesque, gas-lit street scenes are especially thrilling, as is Harris's delightfully odd performance. Urbani's dismissal of Langham is particularly funny--"Don't be deceived: she writes for the Times"--as is the elated expression on Harris's face when he mispronounces the title of Mozart's opera as "The Mah-jeek Flute." "The Devil's Violinist" is probably not eccentric enough, but it's so charming and brattily clever that every false note Rose and his co-creators hit feels negligible compared to the ones they absolutely nail.

http://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/the-d … inist-2015

EDIT: перевод - в посте 203

У критиков.

Наташа, спасибо за перевод  [взломанный сайт]

Мила,  [взломанный сайт]   [взломанный сайт]   [взломанный сайт]   [взломанный сайт]   [взломанный сайт]   [взломанный сайт]

Перевод к посту 148 (без комментариев зрителей):

ВНИМАНИЕ! ПЕРЕПОСТ И КОПИРОВАНИЕ ПЕРЕВОДОВ НА ДРУГИЕ РЕСУРСЫ ТОЛЬКО С СОГЛАСИЯ ПЕРЕВОДЧИКОВ ИЛИ АДМИНА!

Музыкальное дарование Дэвида Гарретта намного превосходит его актерские потуги в старомодной мелодраме 19-го века от Бернарда Роуза.

Музыкальность Дэвида Гарретта является единственным виртуозным элементом "Скрипача дьявола", старомодной (замшелой) драмы, в которой всемирно известный немецкий скрипач играет роль жившего в  19-го веке итальянского скрипача и композитора Никколо Паганини. Автор сценария и режиссер Бернард Роуз, который добился успеха 21 год назад с фильмом "Бессмертная возлюбленная" о жизни Бетховена, правдивой историей, подвергшейся определенной беллетристической обработке. Нынешний фильм подтверждает титаническое мастерство Гарретта, когда он касается смычком струн скрипки, но также и его минимальные успехи в качестве актера. Его исполнение роли было настолько деревянным и неубедительным, что режиссер намеренно отводил камеру от его лица во время диалогов – так легче замаскировать его неуклюжесть в постановочных сценах. В случае с Гарреттом очевидно, что разрыв шаблонов приводит к минимальному коммерческому успеху проекта и вряд ли удержит его на плаву даже усилиями наиболее оголтелых фанатов звезды.

Роуз начинает свою историю беглым прологом со сцены, в которой молодой Паганини подвергается избиению отцом за то, что позволяет себе писать и исполнять собственные композиции, хотя впоследствии отец упоминается лишь вскользь, как причина имеющихся у скрипача проблем. Еще бы, в воплощении (исполнении роли) длинноволосого Гарретта, угрюмого, погруженного в себя, в темном пальто и солнцезащитных очках, Паганини предстает как прототип гранж-рокера, горюющего из-за отсутствия популярности. Издевательства, которым он подвергается во время первых выступлений, усиливают его отчаяние, в результате чего он становится идеальной мишенью для таинственного графа Урбани (Джаред Харрис). Урбани появляется у дверей маэстро и обещает ему славу и богатство, которых тот жаждет, и соглашается подписать контракт, который дает Урбани неограниченную власть над Паганини в этой жизни и после смерти.

Одетый в черно-красный плащ, с тростью и двузубой козлиной бородкой, Урбани мгновенно узнаваем как дьявол, когда фаустовской сделкой он завлекает Паганини в сети мгновенной славы, а также, когда музыкант становится зависим от наркотиков и азартных игр. Роуз оживляет действие фильма за счет того, что компенсирует  эмоционально пустое и надутое лицо Гарретта живой мимикой и эмоциями остальных звезд. Это касается не только яркого мелодраматизма Харриса, но и Джоэли Ричардсон, играющей коррумпированную репортершу с буйной гривой рыжих кудрей, и Кристиана Маккея в роли Джона Уотсона, потрепанного жизнью британского импрессарио, которому удается заманить переживающего тяжелые времена Паганини в Лондон для участия в нескольких концертах, чем Уотсон надеется решить серьезные финансовые проблемы своей семьи.

По крайней мере, такое развитие событий позволяет «Скрипачу дьявола» надлежащим образом продемонстрировать музыкальный гений главной звезды фильма, особенно в сцене переполненного концертного зала, когда Паганини, опоздав к началу концерта, проходит сквозь восторженную толпу, под крики и обмороки девушек, прокладывая себе путь замысловатой мелодией скрипки головокружительной сложности, проявляя талант шоумена, которым мог бы гордиться  Эдди Ван Хален. Однако, как только у Паганини начинается роман с дочерью Уотсона Шарлоттой (Андреа Дек), чье стремление петь он поддерживает, Урбани тотчас же пытается разрушить их чувства. Таким образом, фильм превращается в избитый мелодраматический сценарий, который еще ярче отражает эмоциональную ущербность Гарретта.

Обычно режиссура Роуза является менее высокопарной, он может гордиться своими изящными флюидами, но здесь их катастрофически не хватает из-за хаотичной смены недоработанных и слишком перерепетированных сцен. Хотя его послужной список характеризуется повышенной интимностью и непосредственностью, и его отображение старосветского Лондона и Нью-Йорка вызывает улыбки у разных категорий зрителей, режиссура Роуза, как правило, означает успех. Его талант сценариста, однако, значительно хуже, в результате чего возникает однообразие словарного потока, и повествование, в конечном итоге, оказывается втянуто в трясину небрежно слепленных клише.