The final of The Piano , in which seven budding pianists performed for a packed out audience in Manchester’s Aviva Studios, was a conveyor belt of pointedly heart-warming moments. But despite its best efforts to get viewers weeping, it left me cold. Even ever-twinkly host Claudia Winkleman couldn’t redeem this schmaltz-fest, which ultimately managed to patronise both its musicians and audience.
Before we get into the weeds, a quick recap: each week, feted pianist Lang Lang and noughties pop star Mika have been going to a different British train station to watch an array of local pianists perform, before choosing who will progress in the competition. The criteria for who makes it has been unclear – are the judges looking for TV-ready backstories or virtuosity? – but whatever their rationale, it has taken six weeks of searching to find the seven finalists. In the final episode, one by one, the contestants – each brimming with tales of relatable heartache – were wheeled out for the audience’s delectation.
From Brad’s experience in foster care to Ukrainian Daria’s story of fleeing the war, from Duncan’s dementia to Michael’s neurodiversity, the finalists were presented struggle-first rather than leading with, say, what music they were interested in, or what they hoped to achieve artistically. While the judges were at pains to stress that there wasn’t going to be a winner, there would be a “performance of the night” – which seemed to me basically the .
