Top of the Lake is a mystery, in case you couldn't tell by that picture of Elisabeth Moss peering at some foul secret or something through the trees. Not that "mystery" tells us much anymore about narrative art, since any plot line by nature must have some mysterious elements in order to keep it compelling, but typically we associate it with a crime, suspects, motives, alibis...the whole collection of modular pieces that suit the needs of its storyteller's message. All of these elements are necessarily
in service to unraveling or shading the central mystery, though a skilled craftsman can distract from this mechanical approach. Jane
Campion's deft creative hand guarantees that Top of the
Lake – equal parts rape-murder
riddle, gender polemic, socioeconomic dissection, and character study
– wobbles only minimally, despite the wealth of content on hand. A
densely plotted six-hour miniseries brings outstanding attention to
its swerves in storytelling, especially when they're as portentous as
a bottle labeled “ROOFIES” or as inexplicable as a character
being pardoned almost immediately for stabbing someone in a bar.
Though consistently compelling, Top of the Lake is
also noticeably sloppy, which ultimately diminishes the genre
framework that Campion chooses to work in.
