The Piano

just excellent, i loved it, now i know it is my favorite movie: including actors, designers, musicians and producers, the director Jane Campion too. Michael Nyman is one of the must recognized composers of the world.

Just didn't get all the way there with this. Definitely featured one of the best child performances ever. The dynamics and love triangle were a little messy and confusing.

Jane Campion likes the grotesque. In most of her movies some characters are always distinctively weird in looks and behavior. The Piano is no exception. Main character Ada, played ferociously by Holly Hunter, is a bit of freak. Stubborn and self-contained she “decided” to remain silent from age six and never spoke a word since. Her inconsistent behavior creates all sorts of trouble to those around her, inclusive of unloved "husband" Alisdair, obnoxious daughter Flora and reluctant lover George. Some beautiful landscapes and hunting music hardly make up for the fact that most of the movie is shot in claustrophobic and dark rain forest and three out of four main characters are creepily weird.

The stagnant machinery of a damp coastline: A 2.0-star "pathetic" drift through muddy melodrama.2011 (2.0)I watched "The Piano" (1993) in 2011, and it remains a "pathetic" 2.0-star record in my archive—a film that failed to provide a visceral "revelation" despite its "vivid" cinematography and rhythmic ivory keys. While the production attempted a "sensational" and raw exploration of unspoken passion and female agency, the narrative rhythm felt incredibly "stagnant" and mechanical, following a 100% predictable trajectory of misery that lacked the "chewy" intellectual depth of my 5.0-star pillars. Seeing the "vivid" but ultimately hollow obsession with the instrument **** the fourth wall of my immersion; the "raw" sexuality felt more like a "stagnant" exercise in period-piece tropes than a "sensational" act of cinematic rebellion. Although the film boasted a rhythmic and haunting score, the emotional payoff felt "pathetic" and unearned, leaving me in a state of "silent frustration" at its damp, "raw" aesthetics rather than "hororong." The 95% preservation of my memory is centered on the "stagnant" mud of the New Zealand coast and the "vivid" but "pathetic" sacrifice of the finger, creating a theatrical encounter that provided no permanent, "sensational" scar on my soul. Unlike the high-tension precision of "The Machinist" or the "raw" soul of "West Side Story," this experience was a "vivid" exercise in atmospheric boredom—a 2.0-star artifact of "stagnant" storytelling that felt as "pathetic" as a 1.0-star trauma in its inability to engage my "human distrust" or provide any truly "raw" rebellious energy.

Film se déroulant au 19ème siècle qui suit une névropathe mutique et cul serré qui part chez les Papous à l'autre bout du monde -à moins que ce ne soit chez les All Blacks me souffle-t-on- pour se marier à un colon anglais déjà sur place. Elle fait chier tout le monde avec son gros piano parce qu'à l'époque, trimbaler un piano, je te raconte pas, ça fait bien chier quand même, y compris dans la barque ou dans la jungle. Mais elle ne peut se libérer de son TOC, alors éventuellement elle conclut un "arrangement" avec l'un des indigènes joué par la brute Harvey Keitel, premier demi de mêlée. Et pendant ce temps, son mari très officiel joué par le sympathique Sam Neill se la met sous le bras. Holly Hunter est une actrice estimable mais je ne pensais certes pas qu'elle était aussi bien gaulée que ça, aussi est-ce une heureuse surprise qu'elle montre un peu son petit cul ici même si ça reste hélas bien trop rare durant les deux plombes que dure cette grosse merde intello échappée de l'asile du festival de Cannes. Deux heures qui en paraissent au moins dix -moins 5 minutes de fesses- au vu du scénario qui branlotte du vide et bien sûr de la mise en scène de limace fatiguée. Je suppose que ce suppositoire de deux heures a dû recevoir une palme ou moult prix ou au moins une récompense Télérama, car côté prétention et courant d'air, la Jane Campion a l'air de s'y connaître. Putain, quelle purge !