Bright Star [Jane Campion]
I find it hard to talk about this one without it bringing a lump to my throat.
This kind of achingly beautiful and unashamedly romantic tale is deeply unfashionable now and it's such a crying shame. Campion has surely bested herself here with this subtle and divinely lyrical love poem - so making The Piano feel almost like galumphing over-ripe melodrama in comparison.
I'm sure that much of today's impatient audience will be snoring into their popcorn at Campion's leisurely and smoldering drip drip pace. And the long scene's of poetry reading (it's no mean feat to read poetry with emotional conviction so Whishaw and Cornish should be cherished for sure), the quiet and often silent moments heavy with bated breath and the melancholy longueurs of love unrequited will sorely test the patience of many.
But us hopeless romantics will (quietly) cheer and find rich rewards. Bright Star has a precious, almost nameless, quality that will linger in your heart and consciousness long after it's utterly sublime credit sequence has faded and I really do pity those that don't fall under its mesmerising spell.