I have been meeting with poets, both famous and unknown, for over sixty years, and I never met any worth their salt who was like John Keats. But I have met many bad poets who tried to be like him.
Jane Campion's film perpetuates the La Boheme-style image of the consumptive poet consumed by unrequited love. It also falsifies the story, presenting Keats' life as a conflict between love and poetry, whereas it is clear that the former informed and inspired the latter.
Though there are brief references to poets like Wordsworth, we are shown nothing of the poetic ferment of the day, which made it possible for poets to live on their writings. And where was Shelley? How could Keats be in Italy without Shelley even meriting a mention?
This is basically a soft-focus, soft-centred view of life and love, unworthy of the director of The Piano.
The photography is gorgeous, and Abbie Cornish's clothes are fantastic. But the screen only really comes to life when Paul Schneider (Keats' irascible friend, Mr Brown) and the charming young Edie Martin (as Fanny Brawne's little sister, Toots) appear.
BTW, who was the butterfly wrangler? And were any of these beautiful insects harmed during the making of the film?
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