At the turn of the 20th Century, the titular Novecento, a baby abandoned under a ship’s piano and raised by a steward to age eight, became a great jazz pianist. A trumpeter, who befriended and got closest to him on many a Transatlantic voyage, tells Novecento’s story, punctuated by an onstage jazz band.
Novecento’s talent seemed to be God-given. He never had lessons or left the ship. His friend, here the speaker (dynamic Andre Dussollier), recalls one attempt that got Novecento almost down the (projected) gangway to get closer to the ocean. He’s been cited as an example of a solitary genius who avoided distractions (in his case, on land) from his perfection of his musical ability.
Of two crucial scenes, one of a storm at sea is recreated by the narrator in fright and seeking flight, heightened by projections of surrounding sky and relentless magnified sound. A contest is at the heart of Novecento’s story. It involves the self-proclaimed inventor of jazz, Jelly Roll Morton. As a passenger, he calls out the young pianist to try to outdo him in a difficult set. Suspense is palpable until Novecento breaks through to supremacy.
The band is perfect, in their remarks as well as musicality. Andre Dussollier has become his character and paces all his scenes with real artistry. He gets the audience to use its imagination with stimulating speech and gestures. Thus the “drama” must seem comparable in its effects to what playing the piano required of those who heard Novecento.
