What nonsense Jane Campion’s drama The Piano is. A steaming pile of horse shit, masquerading as meditation on love, the transcendental nature of music, and disability. An elective mute, Ada, portrayed by Holly Hunter, moves to New Zealand with her young child Flora, and emotes using only her piano. That’s it. That’s the entire film. Utter sentimental trash.
Hunter pulls a variety of faces- from anxious to vulnerable – and Anna Paquin makes me want to vomit as her brat of a child. At least TRY a Scottish accent, hen. And she won the fucking Oscar- whyyyy?!?
Throw in Harvey Keitel as the love interest George (who better) who gets one of the most risible lines in any romantic drama: ‘I want to lie down next to you without clothes on” (seriously?!?) and the most trite bonnet and pretty scenery film ever made is thus complete. Then there’s the matter of how the Maori community are treated, almost like an afterthought
It’s still one of the most emotionally manipulative films I’ve ever seen, practically begging its audience to weep. It’s definitely not helped by the worst music Michael Nyman ever made. I often like his Bach inspired melodies, or quirky homages to Purcell, but this, like the film, has an expositional, pitiful quality.
It’s like a Hallmark film for people who think they understand arthouse cinema because they accidentally saw something with subtitles once. Ghastly, facile and beyond saccharine.
Hit The North 