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Jane Campion Fincina Hopgood is a postgraduate student at the University of Melbourne, researching the portrayal of mental illness in contemporary Australian cinema. |
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Jane Campion is Australasia's leading auteur director.
As recipient of the Palme d'Or (1993), the Silver Lion (1990) and an Academy
Award (1994), she is also one of the most successful female directors in
the world. (1) These statements are not made innocently.
They are intended to draw attention to issues of nationality, of auteurism
and art cinema, and of gender. In relation to these issues, Jane Campion
is the subject of extensive critical discussion. The Piano (1993)
– her most successful film, both critically and commercially –
was the catalyst for debates about what constitutes 'national cinema' and
'women's cinema'. In the case of the former, the genesis of the film and
the mix of creative personnel involved proved problematic: the film was
funded by a French company, Ciby 2000; the script – developed with
Australian government funding through the Australian Film Commission –
was set in New Zealand; the director was New Zealand-born but Australian-trained;
it was produced by an Australian (Jan Chapman); the stars were two Americans
(Holly Hunter, Harvey Keitel) and one New Zealander (Anna Paquin); and it
was filmed on location using a New Zealand crew and local extras. (2)
In discussions focusing on the nature of The Piano as 'women's cinema',
some praised the film for its exploration of female desire and sensibility,
while others criticised it for aestheticising female masochism and presenting
a universalising view of femininity at the expense of New Zealand's indigenous
population. (3) The Piano also exemplified the changes
in art cinema during the 1990s, with the rise of the 'crossover' film. (4)
It powerfully demonstrated the potential for art cinema to cross over into
mainstream awareness and commercial success, with its unprecedented box
office takings and several Oscar nominations (winning Best Original Screenplay
for Campion, Best Actress for Holly Hunter and Best Supporting Actress for
Anna Paquin). (5)
“Jane Campion's lunatic women” (11) Many critics have seen Campion's persistent concerns with gender politics and the disempowerment of women within the domestic sphere as evidence of a feminist sensibility. Certainly, while Campion may not regard herself as a feminist director, (12) her films have been enthusiastically taken up by feminist film critics for their depiction of strong female characters rebelling against the roles expected of them by patriarchal society. Campion's heroines are characterised by their refusal to conform to these roles, which often results in a stubbornness that leads them into direct conflict with husbands, fathers, brothers and other women complicit with the patriarchal order. The disturbing nature of Campion's films comes from the physical and emotional violence that is inflicted upon these women – as with Ada (Holly Hunter) in The Piano and Isabel Archer (Nicole Kidman) in The Portrait of a Lady, both women assaulted by their husbands. Feminist theorists and historians have examined the ways in which female protest and refusal to conform to the patriarchal order have been labelled as 'madness'. (13) Several of Campion's heroines are labelled as 'mad' or 'crazy' by virtue of their refusal to conform to what their society considers to be the feminine ideal.
Significantly, Sweetie (Genevieve Lemon) is the only one of Campion's heroines who dies at the end of the film. She is also considered, by most writers, to be the only one of these women who is truly 'mad'. (15) Without providing 'evidence' from the film to support the following labels, Sweetie has been described variously as “insane”, (16) “mentally disturbed”, (17) “obviously unbalanced”, (18) “mentally ill”, (19) “genuinely mad” and “nuts”. (20) This is a curious assumption as it is based on scant evidence within the diegesis: Sweetie is never diagnosed with a mental illness and we do not see her receiving psychiatric treatment. This veiled, inferential representation of madness in Sweetie is linked to another theme in Campion's films: ambiguity (discussed below). By way of example, consider the first time we meet Sweetie, when she arrives unexpectedly at her sister Kay's house, looking both dishevelled and flamboyant with her heavy eye-make up, well-worn bra and lace cuffs, in contrast with the neurotic, uptight Kay (Karen Colston). The dialogue throughout this scene is ambiguous, inviting us to read Sweetie as mentally ill. Kay confronts Sweetie: “what are you doing here? You know you're not allowed”. Sweetie has already been presented as socially unconventional in her manner of breaking into Kay's house and proceeding to trash the bedroom with her junkie boyfriend Bob (Michael Lake). Kay then challenges Sweetie: “you've stopped taking your medication, haven't you?” to which Sweetie replies in a suitably 'spaced-out' tone “yeah, well Bob and I are really gonna walk through some doors, Kay, we're really getting it together”. It is characteristic of Campion's style that this is the only time Sweetie's illness is discussed, and we are never informed as to what the medication is for. Nevertheless, as the film progresses, Sweetie seems to us more and more 'mad'. By the time the family returns from a trip to the outback, Sweetie is so incensed at being left behind that she refuses to speak to them. Instead, she growls and whimpers like a dog, and even tries to bite her father's hand. Like Ada in The Piano, who also refuses to speak, Sweetie's nonverbal communication is a rejection of the symbolic order of language, and the aggressive nature of this rejection of the Law of the Father is visualised in Sweetie's attempted assault on her father's hand. Sweetie's barking like a dog can be read in two ways: as a sign of protest – the renunciation of the patriarchal order of language – or as a sign of madness, as Kay indicates with her threat to Sweetie: “you'll end up in a damn home”. Sweetie's childlike inability to care for herself – the house is a mess and she hasn't been eating – also suggests her 'madness' or mental instability. Sweetie's refusal to conform to patriarchal law is taken to fatal extremes. In her final scene, she is naked and covered with black paint, shouting obscenities at her father from her “princess castle”, her tree-house from childhood. Kay's phobia about trees proves prophetic when Sweetie falls to her death from the castle. (21) The tragic outcome of Sweetie's rebellion underscores the potential problems, noted by some feminists, in reclaiming madness as protest. (22) For these critics, madness represents an impasse, a request for help, a position of powerlessness and vulnerability that only serves to reinforce patriarchy's self-appointed role as moderator and guardian of female behaviour. (23) As Mary Russo observes, “hysterics and madwomen generally have ended up in the attic or the asylum, their gestures of pain and defiance having served only to put them out of circulation.” (24) However, it is the very expression of these “gestures of pain and defiance” that marks Campion's films as powerful texts for feminist analysis. Ambiguity The essence of Jane Campion's films lies in ambiguity, in the opening up of narrative possibilities. Sue Gillett captures this perfectly when she notes that Campion's films are frequently concerned with what is unseen or unsaid. (25) This very openness of meaning lends power to the themes and issues (un)expressed, where the audience is left to interpret the information they are given – or the lack of it. Campion is not interested in telling her audience what to think or how to respond. Indeed, the ambiguity in Campion's films is the catalyst for the critical debate her work inspires. There is much about Sweetie's past that is unseen or unsaid. A key example of this ambiguity is the bathroom scene in Sweetie, where Kay pauses outside the bathroom door, left ajar, and sees Sweetie washing her father in the bath. As Sweetie 'accidentally' drops the soap, she playfully fishes around in the water near her father's groin, humming occasionally as she does so. Campion then cuts to a shot of Kay in bed, pulling up the sheets and blanket close to her chin, staring tensely at the ceiling. Throughout there is a subtle but ominous undertone on the soundtrack. The scene is less than 30 seconds, but its presentation is so haunting that it casts a shadow over the remainder of the narrative, especially in the subsequent scenes between Sweetie and her father, Gordon (Jon Darling). While this is the only scene of intimate physical contact between Sweetie and Gordon, the implication of an incestuous relationship is supported by Gordon's indulgence of Sweetie's unrealistic career ambitions and his fear of upsetting her. Campion again employs ambiguity to suggest an incestuous relationship in The Portrait of a Lady. When Isabel first meets Gilbert Osmond (John Malkovich), his teenage daughter Pansy (Valentina Cervi) sits on his lap. Twice Campion shows a close-up of Osmond's hands stroking Pansy's, creating a sense of uneasiness in this display of intimacy. While no further evidence of an improper relationship between father and daughter is offered, these shots further arouse our suspicions about Osmond (after we have witnessed his scheming with Madame Merle [Barbara Hershey]) and establish the excessive control he exerts over Pansy, and her fearful obedience to him.
Ambiguity in Campion's films is not limited to her characters; it extends to critical analysis of her own directorial project. For reviewers of Holy Smoke, the film's uneven tone – lurching between comedy and drama – resulted in the obscuring of the film's intentions: to explore or exploit alternative belief systems? To praise or parody Ruth's pursuit of spiritual enlightenment? Dana Polan's close analysis of the film reveals the source of this confusion. Campion employs the kitsch stylings of 1970s pop culture to great comic effect in her portrayal of PJ Waters and her sense of humour is unforgiving in the presentation of Ruth's family, particularly her sister-in-law Yvonne (Sophie Lee). But, as Polan observes, “moments of spirituality and vision [such as Ruth's conversion scene] are also treated in terms of a style that resonates with tackiness, and this contributes to the film's undecidability of tone.” (28) The theme of ambiguity demonstrates the central role of discussion and debate in the reception of Campion's films. One of the most contested topics of discussion is her treatment of heterosexual relationships. Romance & Desire In The Portrait of a Lady, several critics disliked the opening credit sequence, or 'prologue', of contemporary teenage Australian girls discussing the thrill of their first kiss and their romantic aspirations for future relationships. (29) Their open and frank tone was considered to be at odds with Isabel's repressed desire, and the 20th century setting unsettled purist fans of the period film. (30) But this opening preface is in fact the key to Campion's interpretation of James' novel; it illuminates her own fascination with Isabel's journey from stubborn independence, to entrapment, through to self-awareness. The girls' voice-overs narrate instances of feminine desire: the “exquisite” moment before a kiss as a head comes towards you, the excitement of another body in contact with your own, the “mirror” that is to be found in a lifelong partner. Early in the film, Campion visualises Isabel's sexual desires in a fantasy sequence, (31) when Isabel imagines her three suitors lying in bed with her, kissing and caressing her face and body, or looking on with desire. Campion is explicit about Isabel's desire for this physical contact. Hence, the significance of her first 'real-life' kiss that we see – as opposed to her fantasies – when Osmond declares his love for her in the shadowy depths of the catacombs. Despite the marriage proposal of Lord Warburton and the persistence of her American suitor Caspar Goodwood, up to this point we have not witnessed a kiss between Isabel and these men. The combined effect of the fantasy sequence and the prologue's voicing of feminine desire is to invest Osmond's kiss with a life-changing force. Isabel's desire for Osmond's touch – which remains present throughout even their most brutal confrontations – is the catalyst for a startling reversal, in a woman who claimed she would “probably never marry”. Whereas The Piano stages the liberation that comes from a woman's desires, The Portrait of a Lady reveals the dangers of that desire, the seduction that leads to entrapment in a loveless marriage. In this sense, it has been described as an “anti-romance” and a reverse narrative of the erotic journey to fulfilment undertaken by Ada in The Piano. (32) It is worth recalling Campion's sceptical and cautionary portrayal of romance in An Angel at my Table, when the romantic longings of Janet are stirred by the attentions of an American history professor, Bernard (William Brandt), holidaying in Ibiza. We witness Janet's discovery of her sexual desire and erotic self-expression, most openly when she swims naked before Bernard, shedding the shyness and self-consciousness we have come to associate with her. But no sooner has Janet glimpsed a new, more confident self through her first sexual relationship, when Bernard declares he is returning to America, dismissing their relationship as simply 'a holiday romance'. Janet is crushed, and the specifically female perils of sexual desire are demonstrated in her discovery that she is pregnant, followed by a traumatic miscarriage. The lesson learnt is that romance is risky, and that sex distracts Janet from her 'real' purpose, her writing. (33) Campion's fascination with the darker side of romance is demonstrated by her declared passion for the Gothic literature of the Brontës. (34) Her films suggest she is acutely aware of the risks of romance, the dangers of desire, (35) for women in patriarchal society: while Ada is successful in achieving romantic union with Baines (Harvey Keitel) in The Piano, it comes at significant cost – the loss of a finger and two attempts at rape by her jealous husband. Indeed, we can assume Ada has already discovered the 'costs' of romance in raising Flora (Anna Paquin) without Flora's father.
The themes of madness, ambiguity and desire are central to Campion's films. Her work has generated an extensive body of critical discussion, which is all the more remarkable when one considers she has released only five feature films to date. Campion is a director who inspired critical comment and analysis even before she made her first feature. (38) At the time of writing, Campion's current project is an adaptation of Susanna Moore's novel In The Cut (1995), due for US release in January 2003. Starring Meg Ryan and produced by Nicole Kidman, the film's plot deals with “murder, sadism and sex”. (39) As a story that continues Campion's uncompromising exploration of female erotic empowerment and masochistic desire, (40) In The Cut may well again inspire debate and controversy. My thanks to Dr Jeanette Hoorn and Alan Hopgood for their constructive comments on an earlier version of this article. © Fincina Hopgood, September 2002. Endnotes:
Filmography Shorts:Tissues (1980) Mishaps: Seduction and Conquest (1981) Peel: An Exercise in Discipline (1982) Passionless Moments (1983/4, co-director Gerard Lee) A Girl's Own Story (1983/4) After Hours (1984) In the Cut (2003) Television: Dancing Daze (1985, episode of TV series) Two Friends (1986, telefeature) An Angel at my Table (1990, TV miniseries in 3 parts, later released theatrically as a feature) Features: Sweetie (1989) The Piano (1993) The Portrait of a Lady (1996) Holy Smoke (1999) In The Cut (2002/3, in production) OTHER CREDITS The Audition
(1989) Dir: Anna Campion Select Bibliography Ashby, Justine,
“Jane Campion”, Fifty Contemporary Filmmakers, ed. Yvonne
Tasker, Routledge, London and New York, 2002, pp.90-98
Articles in Senses of Cinema The
Lady in the Frame: Two Portraits by Henry James and Jane Campion
by
David Kelly
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