The film is a collection of well-acted and beautifully painted moments, taking place toward the end of the British poet John Keats’ life, that somehow just don’t stitch that well together... As a whole, the movie feels like a slow, heavy freight train, whose destination is clear from the start, and you sit and watch it making its way, slowly without any surprises, towards its final destination. It may be, at times, beautiful to watch, but it’s so tiresome…
Jane Campion whose films I've hardly seen, but that left a good impression with me from The Piano, seems to be attracted to characters of strong women at a time / environment were a strong women would be the exception. But without much of a plot to support it, it just doesn’t stick. Furthermore, the other characters in this film, including the main character's family members, seem to float around purely to illuminate her, like ornaments on a Christmas tree, and as if they have no life of their own. Maybe it was Campion’s intention but for me it didn’t work. I waited patiently for the movie to be over and was quite disappointed as I came all prepared and really wanted to like this film.
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