Jane Campion remembers Sam Neill: ‘He was an expression of peace, of radiant love’ | Sam Neill

Sam. Hardly beautiful, and something rare inside new Zealand and Australia: movie star.

My hands really shook when I met him at a cafe in Vulcan Lane, Auckland, to discuss the rehearsals. He arrived, we all were, to start making Piano. He was supposed to play the oppressed and violent Stewart, who cuts off his wife’s finger. Who but Sam could play that part, would he be surprised by that part?

Sam was kind, dedicated and helpful. He looked at me and basically everyone on the set. He walked through the mud, fixed dinner, kicked me out and told me that if he thought I was letting the lighting go too far. I loved him as Stewart. I remember gasping when he pulled Holly (Hunter) out of his cabin, into the rain and mud, with a strength I didn’t expect but immediately realized the story needed. He already knew, Stewart’s jealousy was dangerous.

Sam and his then wife Noriko invited me to their home in Queenstown one summer and showed me the great beauty of southern New Zealand. It was the beginning of my family’s love affair with the south – the sea, the mountains, the beech forests.

As time went by, we sometimes shared our feelings, shared stories about our lives, talked like girls and talked about how to prepare for the end of life. Some of Sam’s responses to his cancer diagnosis were write a good, interesting memoir and they want me to look at the Piano theme. It turned out that it was a lonely time for him, but he never showed it – except maybe on the screen.

I saw Sam earlier this year with his friend Heather and mine with his friend Griz. We spent the night in his beautiful wine cellar and celebrated what seemed like an impossible opportunity; that he did not have cancer and now he can think of new topics. At that moment I was struck by the gentleness and peace, the grace that was all about him.

Then a few months later he had an emergency hospital stay at St Vincent’s in Sydney. I went in with coffee and food. Rachel Ward was also there and we all laughed and chatted. Love in and around Sam had grown. We didn’t talk about illness, it seemed like a waste of beautiful time.

The last day I saw Sam in the hospital. I brought him a small carton of water from the Macquarie art school shop because he said time was hard to fill…he was happy to produce a few dreamy drawings. We talked about the amazing Split Enz reunion concert I saw and he followed the audio from his bed. Our goodbye was a kiss, and then he thanked me for coming, for the trouble. Did we know it would be the last time? I never thought about it, I don’t think he did either.

Over the past few months, every time I saw Sam, it was an intoxicating experience. He was showing peace, and bright love. He didn’t seem to care about anything. He was there, thankfully – but now he’s gone. Thanks for everything Sam. I miss you.