The Quiet Earth (1985)

A man wakes up in a world in which he finds himself on his own – literally speaking. There seem to be no other people on earth, than him. We come to know the man is some kind of scientist. Naturally, he tries to get clear about what has happened. But all he sees is empty streets and empty stores. – This scenario, of course, is the backbone of any number of films about zombies and/or the apocalypse. But The Quiet Earth is a gem of quirky scenes. First of all, the protagonist is a plump, baldish man, not the typical action hero. We see him exploring this eerie surrounding of human things and infrastructure, but no people. The volume is turned down. Only two other characters are introduced, but of course they bring some drama into this story about the end of the world. And of course there has to be a love story. Where most other films about the apocalypse focus on showy effects, The Quiet Earth opts for depicting quite ordinary emotions such as fear, loneliness, boredom and jealousy. Sometimes, the film is a tad bit silly, but in my book, all this is excused due to the sheer strangeness of it all. Thematically, this treads the familiar path of criticism of overblown scientific projects. It turns out that the protagonist is partially to blame for the catastrophe earth has undergone. I like the film best when it is most lighthearted, when our scientist dresses up in a dress and just paces around this desolate place on earth (New Zeeland, apparently). The end of the film is so bad it might just as well be ... well, not good but the kind of awful that is necessary if the theme is sexual possession of a girl and, paired with that, a second end-of-the-world. This is, I must tell you, cheesy stuff all the way, but quite entertaining this film is all the same.  

The Piano (1993)

Jane Campion's An angel at my table, about outcast author Janet Frame, is one of those films that I think about every now and then. But it took me some good years to muster up enough courage to watch The Piano. Slandered by some, elevated by others - this is a film people have opinions about. As a matter of fact, I liked many things in it, and, especially, I liked Harvey Keitel's performance. Keitel is, in my opinion, one of the more interesting male Hollywood actors. In several movies (Holy smoke!, Ulysses' gaze), Keitel challenges some very deeply ingrained ideas about male, physical presence, even though he also, in a bunch of movies, performs as the familiar, beefy tough guy whose only physical trait is his weary face. (Of course, there are some film makers who goes against the grain of normative masculine embodiment: Claire Denis is an important example.) In quite a few movies, Keitel's acting is characterized by a rare, physical fragility. That aspect of his acting becomes very important in The Piano.

The story of The Piano does not lack melodramatic misfires. But mostly, it's a haunting film, memorable for its stark portrayal of loneliness and desire. - Secondly, this is a film that has a cinematic style of its own; dramatic, gothic blue-ish colors and whirling, musical camerawork (I guess Lars von Trier must have seen this - the evocative surroundings have much in common with Antichrist). What I like about The Piano is the complexity of the characters and the brutal exactitude of Campion's storytelling. The film is set in the 19th century. Ada, a woman who does not speak, moves to New Zealand with her young daughter. A man has promised to marry her. Ada seems to have no romantic feelings for the man. The man wants her "affection", but seems to care little about her. Ada is involved in an affair with another man, Baines, an affair that starts out as one-sided attempts at seduction, and even crude bribery. The relationship transforms into something else. - But as I interpret the film, Campion is not happy to re-enact a trite male fantasy about the woman who gives in to male sexual power. The question about power and powerlessness is certainly central to the story, but power is no either/or issue, neatly portioned among the characters. It is evident that Ada embodies rebellious desire (she is the assumingly frigid, Victorian woman). Here, one might wonder what role the piano / music plays in the story. Campion makes much of the erotic tensions in music and playing (Ada, a mute woman, expresses herself and her situation through music), but it is rather open what the bearing of the last scenes have on that; scenes that suggest loss and ambiguous resolution: maybe we have gotten too comfortable with our image of Ada? Maybe family life with Baines is not the Utopia after all?
 
In an interesting article about the moralistic and myopic outrage among white journalists against gangsta rap, bell hooks goes on to analyze The Piano, which she sees as a sexist movie, the sexism of which these same white journalists are oblivious to. "Violance against land, natives and women in this film, unlike that of gangsta rap, is portrayed uncritically, as though it is 'natural', the inevitable climax of conflicting passions." I think hooks makes a very important observation here, even though there are some things in the film that makes me hesitant in saying that Campion is "uncritical". In my view, her film, even though flawed and unresolved on many issues, is about living in patriarchy. Actually, I would not say that Campion is in the business of making manifests conflicting patterns of primordial desire. One reason for this is the very last scene, in which we see Ada, the piano teacher, who lives with Baines and her daughter, playing her piano. If one takes a close look at that scene (iron finger and all) it is not at all clear if Ada has finally attained a blissful state of "freedom". But is Campion producing an erotization of male domination? - I think I would have to re-watch the film in order to give a decent answer to that question. At least, I would say that there are several scenes that explicitly raise this question: Baines' regret and Ada's husband's fear of his wife's attempts at sexual controls are examples here.