Very nice. But unfortunately, it also houses the slaggiest, grungiest A-frame in the Queenstown Lakes district. The property looks damp, forlorn and lonely - about all its lacks in misery is a sign advising ''Abandon hope''.
The A-frame was one of the main settings chosen for Jane Campion's just-aired television series Top of the Lake. It was a P lab factory-come-home sweet home for the series' drug gang leader and his sad sack, flea-bitten, bikie sons.
Top of the Lake has been something of a rude shock for Queenstown locals. We are accustomed to seeing glowing postcard images of home, but in Campion's series our lakes and mountains were filmed in sombre menacing tones.
The inhabitants weren't participants in party central, but yokels, crims and dropouts living (dear me) in shoddy poverty. There have been cartloads of films, documentaries and commercials paying homage to Queenstown's beautiful landscapes. This helps bring the tourists, and also reinforces our sense of being not only lucky to live here, but terribly wise for making the choice.
''Another day in paradise,'' is the locals' greeting in Arrowtown's Buckingham St.
''The leaves have turned to gold, the mountains climb, our air's champagne, and do you hear yon tinkling brook?''
''Oh yes, the limpid lake, the mossy tree - and is there honey still for tea?''''But what about those poor sods,'' I say, pointing to the tourists.
''They have to check their bags out of paradise by three o'clock, or pay the airline levy on extra fun.''
''Well, that's the choice they've made. But they leave us behind with responsibilities we bear on their behalf. We are their custodians of the environment - the keepers of the flame. By the way, did you hear Macca has put his place on the market for two mill?''''Really? That means he's got resource consent for his new pile up above the lake. He promised he'd sponsor a Kiwi.''
Unless you've been crop-dusting in Iowa, you know Top of the Lake is about a detective returned from Sydney. She is trying to find a pregnant 12-year-old gone bush in the wilderness. The locals, an inbred collective of hippies, paedophiles, bikies, rapists, cops and baristas, are there to help, hinder or stare vacantly down the bar of the Glenorchy pub.
I suppose we'd be silly to take offence. Jane Campion says it's not a portrait of Queenstown. Russell Baillie, interviewing her for The New Zealand Herald, wrote: ''She thinks, or possibly hopes, the home town crowd will be savvy enough to realise the series is a work of fiction and isn't a commentary or a literal representation of the area where it was filmed.''
So - no bungy jump, or tourists singing merrily around SS Earnslaw's piano. I watched Top of the Lake with that detached feeling you have when you know you are seeing quality, but can't find a character you empathise with. Still there were wonderful touches and eccentricities, the standout being Campion's quirky idea of having a tribe of old bags blot the Moke Lake landscape with their commune of ugly shipping containers.
They are led by their contemptuous guru, GJ (Holly Hunter of Campion's The Piano), an ancient crank who scolds them with sniffy, gnomic pronouncements. For a scriptwriter, writing a line of wacko wisdom for GJ would be almost as much fun as penning text messages for Aaron Gilmore.
Campion described the ragtag settlement as ''a post-menopausal women's camp'' for old girls left behind by modern society's distaste for the no-longer sexy.
''I liked the idea of them as old Vietnam vets - but love vets - soothing their wounds. But not being able to give up enough, to know their day is done,'' she said.
The Aussie cinematographer Adam Arkapaw shot work that should have him booked solid with awards nights till Christmas. He has moved the standard visual take on scenic Queenstown up several notches, finding something deeper but just as striking. It's a glowering surliness that's not in the postcards, but we all understand is sitting there.
The critics loved Top of the Lake. One notable, based in Cleveland, Ohio, was greatly moved by Queenstown's ''impermeable Australian bush''. Ah well, any publicity ... etc.
John Lapsley is an Arrowtown writer.
