"Piano" must be Maori for "self indulgent wankery"

Rating: 3/10 (28 July 2006)

Amidst a storm of publicity and hails as the new ultra-feminist zenith of masterpiece, The Piano hit international cinema like a plague, and suddenly it was "cool" to watch the thing, as well as talk everyone else into seeing it, whether the film suited them or not. Contrary to what a previous commentator implies, Anna Paquin deserved her award for this film, and then some, as she acts rings around the adults in the cast. Harvey Keitel and Sam Neill play the most utterly despicable men, and given that this is meant to be some post-modern feminist essay, they are also as unidimensional as a piece of paper. Holly Hunter's character could have been at least likable, but the presence of voice-over from what is meant to be her character (but sounds more like Anna's) ruins whatever character she could build through her silence. James Cameron was able to create a character that intimidates the audience despite speaking less than a hundred words in a hundred minutes. Jane Campion as a writer is to James Cameron as a one-cell protozoan is to Professor X.
All the elements for a good story are in place. A mute woman is sent to colonial New Zealand for an arranged marriage. Her one treasured possession in the world is a piano, hence the title. The twist is that her new husband's refusal to help her keep her piano results in her having an affair with one of the locals. In the hands of a director like Paul Verhoeven, Tim Burton, or even Christopher Nolan, this could have become a classic. In Jane Campion's hands, it is overlong, paced like a racehorse with three broken legs, and entirely uncompelling. If you don't believe me about Verhoeven's ability to tell this kind of tale better, then you clearly haven't seen Keetje Tippel or Turks Fruit. That aside, the location scout sure earned their money. Campion knows how to make the best use of the countryside and its natural beauty, I will give her that much, but this does not add up to much in light of the myriad of problems. You can make a good art film, you can make a bad art film, but heaven help you if you make a boring art film.
Roger Ebert takes a long walk off a minuscule credibility pier when he tells us that Campion "understands better the eroticism of slowness and restraint". If you want to see slowness and restraint used well in film, rent Michael Mann's 1995 film Heat. Mann gives the audience enough reason to care about every character that he can include an entire minute of footage that features little more than two of his actors staring into a camera, and keep viewers glued to their seat. Heat is literally one of the most languid films to have emerged from an English-speaking country in the past twenty years, yet it is also one of the most compelling. The Piano tries to use slow and languid to seem artful, but in failing to give us characters we want to follow through to their eventual fates, it simply becomes overlong. You could seriously excise at least thirty minutes from The Piano and nobody would know the difference. Hell, when I write, I look back on what I have written and ask "does this scene contribute anything to the story?". I have deleted enough words to make a full-length novel from my writings this way, so that Campion can get this rubbish published unasked is offensive.
Of course, people will respond to my previous criticism by telling me that The Piano made money at the box office, and it is true that money speaks a lot louder than artistry. The problem with that defense, however, is that any film film made after 1980 could make a profit on the back of a mere seven million dollar budget. Exactly how Campion was able to enlist such actors as Keitel or Neill and stick to such a budget is a bit of a mystery. Perhaps she was able to convince them, like her audience, that she was making an art film. After seeing both of them in other films, I know they are definitely better actors than Campion deserves or knows what to do with. But to get back to the point, much of The Piano's profit has come as the result of pressure-marketing. The marketeer barks that this is a compulsory film for feminists or art students, and they jump. This is not art or even skillful economics, it is a form of cultural terrorism. The real pity of it is that Campion will have you believe she made a statement, and some will believe her.
The one area in which The Piano can be thanked is the introduction of a young actress named Anna Paquin. As I said earlier, she acts rings around the rest of the cast, giving us the only character who has any illusion of being three-dimensional. Unfortunately, much like later films in her career, she is sadly underutilised, and in another display of femininity according to Campion, is only there when Holly Hunter or someone giving Hunter a good serve needs something to bounce their total blankness off. Had the film been entirely about her, or from her perspective, it would have been a lot more watchable. But then, I could watch Anna reading the phone book for two hours, so I might be just a little biased. Such is the quality of her performances that she has made several write-offs (All The Rage comes to mind) eminently more watchable. Ironically, she continues to act in real art films that are far better than this nonsense, yet receives not even half the recognition.
For that reason, I gave The Piano a three out of ten. Anna earns all three stars. If you are a fan of Anna like I am, this might be worth the two hours. Otherwise, don't bother.