Jennifer Hudson tilts her head to the side as she plays the piano in a flooded warehouse. Wearing a fur coat and a white spaghetti strap dress, she closes her eyes and looks ahead. A line of golden light reflects on the piano.
The camera pans away, giving her some space and returns behind her, capturing the sunlight beaming into the room. The camera reaches the ceiling, hovering over her and then gradually returns to the bench. The camera heads to the front of the piano and then inches its way back.
She gets up and walks towards the door. She looks off to the side and then walks back towards the piano.
Jennifer Hudson knew she shouldn’t have moved the piano out of her home. However, she was content and complacent. Music could be created on the computer and sent to her songwriters in an email. She had a husband to tend to and a child who needed her care.
A decade later, she is alone. Her child now requests to go over his friend’s house after school and she is divorced. Every so often, her child will hear her sing and ask why she doesn’t make music anymore. It occurred to her that had become reliant on technology, allowing the creative process to be a business effort rather than the emotional healing it once was.
She received a phone call from the storage center that there was a flood. They tell her there is a piano there and if she would like to see if its salvageable. She gets the key from storage and enters the flooded warehouse. The piano hasn’t seen much damage. It’s still intact. However, the bench and the legs have rotted from the water. It’s going to have to be thrown out.
She plays it one last time, wishing she had made use of it, thinking of the songs it still has inside.
Director: N/A Year: 2017
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