The
End of the Affair
Rated R
http://www.spe.sony.com/movies/jump/endofaffair.html
Graham Greene, a cynical romantic and self-styled "Catholic
atheist," professed never to know the truth of things. "When
we are not sure, we are alive," he once said. This doubt and
liveliness are most evident in his 1951 semi-autobiographical
"true love" novel, The End of the Affair, a work that
deals with passionate afflictions both human and holy. It
is fitting, then, that director Neil Jordan (Mona Lisa,
The Crying Game, The Butcher Boy), a novelist himself
and no stranger to tortured beauty or spiritual crisis, brings
Greene's grand affair to the screen. Greene, who saw quite
a few of his works both flourish and flop on the screen (his
favorites were Carol Reed's The Third Man and The
Fallen Idol), would most likely be pleased by Jordan's
adaptation. The film captures the author's British dryness
as well as his passion, intelligence, weepiness and artistic
mystery.
In short, this isn't just a simple romance picture.
The movie begins not with love but with hate, as Greene's
tortured novelist Maurice Bendrix (Ralph Fiennes) attacks
his typewriter. "This is a diary of hate," he types, after
taking a long drink of whiskey. It all began with an affair
in 1939, while England was at war. Bendrix met and immediately
fell in love with the beguiling Sarah (Julianne Moore),
a woman stuck in a comfortable but passionless marriage
to civil servant Henry Miles (Stephen Rea). The affair is
fervent; they meet in a seedy room and make love while bombs
shake the walls (Jordan's sex scenes are probably the most
realistically passionate in years). It is also long (five
years), which only heightens Bendrix's intense jealousy,
as Sarah will not leave her husband.
Two years after the end of the affair, Bendrix by chance
meets Henry, who confesses he's worried that his wife might
be having an affair. Bendrix offers to pose as a lover and
enlist a private detective to tail Sarah. Henry is repelled
by the idea, but Bendrix's mind is made up; he hires the
slightly bumbling Parkis (Ian Hart) and his 12-year-old
son, Lance (Samuel Bould), to watch and report.
Reminiscent of Out of the Past and The Postman
Always Rings Twice, this is a detective story filled
with dark nights, rain-soaked streets and protective fedoras
("Strange how much dignity there can be in a man's hat,"
Bendrix says at one point). It drips with cynicism, disillusionment
and religious quandary. Bendrix is not just a man in love;
he is often a selfish, unlikable monster in hate, obsessed
with either a good woman or a double-crossing tart. He is
also--typically for Greene and, lately, Jordan--miserably
fighting God. This conflict adds another layer of philosophical
and emotional tumult. There is a trinity here--the self,
the lover and God--and poor Bendrix cannot sort it out.
Yet, even with the ugly warts of love uncovered, The
End of the Affair is rapturous, not only because of
Greene's splendid story, but because of the mesmerizing
cinematography (by Roger Pratt) and the cast's perfect,
subtle acting. Fiennes and Moore are riveting, their chemistry
impossibly genuine, and both Rea and Hart accomplish the
hard task of being more than just buffoons (two wonderful
performances in thankless roles). With all the elements
so impeccably in place, The End of the Affair overwhelms
you before you have a chance to harden. It makes you feel
vulnerable, angry, unsure and, as Greene said, alive.
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Willamette Week | originally
published January 26,
2000
|
