While it is logically implausible (since everyone needs to start somewhere), it has always seemed like Dame Jane Campion has been considered one of our finest filmmakers regardless of what stage of her career we are looking at – so imagining her being a young, rambunctious director that wasn’t the celebrated artist she is today feels bizarre. However, like any other great filmmaker, she got her start through taking an idea that was very close to her heart, and working to configure it into something meaningful, and learning the art of direction in the process. After a few well-received short films and the darkly comical (and some may even argue slightly semi-autobiographical) Sweetie, Campion made her first major leap into filmmaking when she optioned an adaptation of An Angel at My Table, the three-part autobiography by Janet Paterson Frame, widely considered one of New Zealand’s greatest writers, and a cultural icon whose story is both inspiring and tragic, depending on how you look at it. In the case of Campion, she intended to look at her life from both sides, crafting an intimate but sprawling existential epic that covers the first few decades of Frame’s life, following her journey from an innocent young girl growing up in a working-class family in the 1930s, to her struggles with mental health and various existential crises throughout her early adulthood (which caused her enormous psychological strife), before settling in comfortably as a writer after all this hardship had subsided in the early 1960s when she finally started to receive attention as a major literary voice. Campion is truly one of contemporary cinema’s most important voices, and her consistent effort to tell the stories that genuinely interest her has resulted in a smaller body of work that is nonetheless filled with exceptional works – and there is an argument that An Angel at My Table is her greatest achievement of them all.

There is a moment quite early on in An Angel at My Table, in which Janet’s father comes to her and hands her a notebook for her to “write all [her] little poems in” – and what some may see as merely a tender moment between a father and his daughter (especially in hindsight of the challenges they face as a family) is a pivotal turning point for the main character, and the precise moment in which she became an artist. Self-expression is always important when it comes to creation, but the reality is that an artist can only exist if there is some kind of audience to consume the work, whether a single person or a large crowd. To be recognised as an artist during childhood is incredibly important, and it is not difficult to see why Frame herself drew attention to this moment, which Campion clearly notices, as it is one of the film’s most emotional components, and the point at which it starts to find itself. For nearly three hours, we are watching the birth and growth of an artist – Frame may not be as world-renowned as perhaps she ought to be, but is primarily known within her native New Zealand, where she’s considered the gold standard for writers, especially women who want to enter into the literary arts, an industry that she played a part in opening up to wider representation. Yet, the film voyages deep into her legacy, exploring the important parts of her life that played a role in how she developed her artistic identity. Anyone who is inclined towards creativity knows the importance of teachers and family in developing our skills, and this film examines these components by exploring the various ways Frame grew as a writer, forming her skills through trial and error – and much like Campion, her journey towards acclaim took some time, and saw her constantly experimenting and developing ideas that would eventually lay the foundation for her celebrated work, which are all covered with such deep sincerity and honesty by Campion and her cohorts as they venture into adapting this striking memoir that serves to be a vibrant portrait of the author’s growth into her creativity.

It is not difficult to see why Campion felt such a kinship for Frame, at least on a fundamental level. They were both female artists making their way through an industry dominated by men, and thus they had to fight twice as hard to get a seat at the proverbial artistic table. However, there is so much more to Frame’s story than just her efforts to become a writer. The first half of her life was plagued with poverty, tragedy and various physical and psychological struggles, which had the unfortunate result of causing her considerable strife. It would have been far easier to just focus on the artistic growth, which is in itself a fascinating subject and more than enough to propel this film. However, Campion (like many great storytellers) is aware of the fact that one doesn’t simply become an artist without experiencing life in some way, Frame had the misfortune of having quite a difficult childhood, and her early adulthood was not particularly easy either, which makes her story so deeply tragic, but also incredibly inspiring, considering she was able to overcome all the challenges that she encountered, albeit only after a while. An Angel at My Table explores the life of the person behind the typewriter, with Frame’s writing being used as interludes, or perhaps even narrative punctuation, occurring in between depictions of her domestic life and personal struggles. We find the film examining her growth into a woman, showing her from her early childhood right into the heart of her adult life, which occurred alongside her family dynamic, which was often quite jovial, but not without its immense tragedies (Frame lost two of her sisters in separate drowning incidents, both of which are some of the most heartwrenching moments of the film), which worked its way into her perception of the world since she seemed to carry the belief that tragedy simply follows some people around. There is also a lot of time dedicated to exploring her struggles with mental health, with her nearly decade-long stay in a psychiatric hospital being the centrepiece of the film, and outside of the aforementioned moment in which she is given the notebook, probably the most important part of her story since it forced her to see the world in a radically different way. All these fragments work together brilliantly in the construction of this harsh but beautiful biographical drama, which always makes its intentions abundantly clear.

An Angel at My Table is a film that is driven by its atmosphere much more than the specific story, but it is still a character-based film, and as a result, we have some very impressive performances, albeit ones that don’t necessarily adhere to conventions in the traditional sense, which is appropriate for Campion, who rarely follows the status quo when crafting her films. The role of Janet Frame is played by three actors at different stages of the character’s life – Alexia Keogh plays Frame in her early childhood, while Karen Fergusson focuses on her teenage years. These are smaller roles, essentially being restricted to the first act, but they lay the foundation for the character and introduce us to some of her more unique traits, which would carry over into the latter portions of the film. Kerry Fox has by far the most to do, playing Frame from her early adulthood right until the end of the film, which takes place roughly as she reaches middle age. The three actors are all splendid, and they do remarkably well in not only playing the character but doing so in a consistent way. The bush of fiery red hair and distinct clothing style is only one part of her personality, and it’s the actors who convey every emotion with sincerity, working together to create a version of this character that is consistent and compelling, which helps give the film so much nuance and lays the groundwork for some of the more abstract ideas to fully manifest, which would not have been possible without strong actors in these roles.  Iris Churn, Kevin J. Wilson and the legendary stage actor Martyn Sanderson all have small but substantial roles as other characters in Frame’s life, people who helped form her into the person she is, developing her far beyond the one-dimensional confines that may have been found had this material been placed into the hands of a more conventional filmmaker.

As a director who has mastered both the art of narrative and visual storytelling, Campion is objectively one of the most gifted filmmakers of her generation, someone who not only looks at fascinating subjects but shows them with such radical beauty, perhaps more than we may even imagine being necessary. Never one to resort to excess, but also not someone who dismisses the wide range of opportunities allowed to her when making a film, Campion’s work is the perfect combination of style and substance, especially when it comes to establishing a restrained beauty, which is a common theme throughout her films. Much like her other films, An Angel at My Table is a delicate, fragile work with a steadfast core and interminable sense of resilience, both visually and in terms of its thematic content. We’ve already established that the film has layers of complex meaning, but it is the visual components that accompany it that make the film so intriguing. Along with cinematographer Stuart Dryburgh (who had a regular working relationship with the director during the 1990s), Campion works to recreate the past, voyaging into the forests and rural areas of New Zealand to recreate the world in which Frame came of age and developed into an acclaimed and celebrated writer. This is done through not only strong decisions in terms of production design and costuming but even in the smallest details – visually, the film is extremely beautiful. The detailed landscapes, both sprawling and intimate, add so much meaning to the film, taking us back to the past in a way that feels genuine, especially through the refusal to avoid the thornier, less appealing details. The use of music is also exceptional – the score composed by Don McGlashan starts with an emphasis on tones and sounds that represent childhood, especially music boxes and rattles, and then gradually becomes more complex as the story progresses. It isn’t often we find a film score that matures alongside the protagonist, but in the case of An Angel at My Table, it is one of many terrific elements that prove the incredible artistic merit that governs this film and gives it such a distinct and unforgettable atmosphere.

Situating An Angel at My Table within Campion’s career can be a daunting task – it is not her most grandiose film (which would be either The Piano or Portrait of a Lady), or her most daring, which could be any of her other projects. However, it is quite likely her most emotional, which is quite an achievement, at least in how it sets out to capture a version of this story that is captivating without being excessive, a massive challenge for anyone who has such a dense, intimidating text with which they have to work. Campion has never been a filmmaker known to retreat at the first sign of a challenge, and she even actively embraces the obstacles that would normally cause other films to derail. The result is an engaging and captivating drama that understands the importance of developing a story far more than the preconceived boundaries that tend to accompany them. It is difficult to imagine anyone other than Campion making An Angel at My Table – while their specific socio-economic backgrounds may be different, and they both came of age in radically different times, there was a sincere kinship between them, as they were both women who pursued their ambitions in fields that were dominated by men, and as a result had to fight a considerable amount of sexual bias, managing to make it through these hardships and becoming iconic voices in their respective professions. Compelling, beautiful and never anything less than enthralling, An Angel at My Table is a masterful film brimming with meaning and genuine emotion. It finds Campion doing some of her most interesting work, and all in favour of honouring a truly extraordinary artistic voice, whose life is captured with such sincerity throughout this film. A poetic ode to not only the life of an artist, but the development of a woman who changed the world in her small way, there is a reason why this film has remained so cherished and continues to be one of the most powerful biographical dramas of its era.