I won't go into great detail about the plot of The Piano, but I find this scene in particular very charming. After the main character is sold into a marriage, she is shipped with her daughter and all of their belongings to the coast of New Zealand where she is to meet her husband, a frontiersman. The one possession that can't (in the beginning, at least) be taken is her piano, as it's too heavy for his crew to carry inland to where they've settled. To me, what is beautiful about this moment is the urgent desire to be reunited with an object that allows her to be able to produce her art. She spends hours at a time playing and eventually goes to extreme measures to win her piano back. I can't help but admire the fact that this scene contests the notion that art is a complete waste of time. No one needs to paint a painting, take a photograph, or play the piano, but there is still something necessary about the production of art to the subsistence of the artist.