Sunday, November 27, 2005
Fern puts her finger on it
Richard has had Michael Nyman's The Piano Concerto going pretty much nonstop in the Honda, so I should not have been surprised that when the movie popped up on TV last night we stayed in to watch it. Despite the presence of so many good things--great scenery, great score, Harvey Keitel naked--I loathed this movie when I saw it years ago in the theater and I can't say a second viewing improved it. The ponderous camerawork, heavyhanded symbolism only Monique Wittig could love, that damned cartwheeling . . . but I was tickled by a children's book reference I hadn't seen before. It comes when Anna Paquin, much to her subsequent horror, rats out Holly Hunter to Sam Neill. She might as well have taken the words right out of E. B. White's mouth.