THE PIANO (1993) *** Jane Campion knows what she likes about New Zealand and has an eye for a shot. Her shots, for the most part, are a great deal more moving than the action taking place on screen. A lot's been said about the piano being a metaphor for this or that, but I think that instead it's one of those multi-dimensional symbols that loses power in the face of analysis. By focusing on one aspect you entirely lose sight of another, and your subconscious can keep track of them all so long as you don't beat it into submission. Jane raises genuinely frightening questions about humanity, and more grime than a documentary on Paris, but I think that all of the vulgarity and despair is only to accentuate the beauty in a form akin to a bas-relief, and so is justified. Not just true and essential, but justified. I also see a universalism in the characters-it's not so clear to me what separates Harvey Keitel from Sam Neill besides Holly Hunter's ultimate preference for one. Instead I see generalizations about women being manipulated by currents created by men, and surviving by their wits. Men appear no less controlled by currents that they create, but can neither control nor confront. So both sexes are driven unremittingly towards an ultimate madness generated by, or around, men, with devalued redemption seeming all the sweeter by virtue of the sacrifices that must be made to attain it. It's good that Holly and Anna Paquin can say so much without moving their mouths, it saves them from the awkward phrasing of this review, for example.
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