In World War II, a badly burned amnesiac known only as "The English Patient" is found in the African desert and is transported to Italy, where he joins a convoy of medical troops and others at an abandoned monastery. Among them are Hana (Juliette Binoche), a Canadian nurse whose lovers generally meet unpleasant ends; Kip (Naveen Andrews) and Hardy (Kevin Whately), two explosives experts who search the monastery for bombs; and David Caravaggio (Willem Dafoe), a Canadian soldier-of-fortune who knows the identity of the English patient and has a score to settle.
Through flashbacks we learn the story of the Patient: he is Laszo Almasy (Ralph Fiennes), a Hungarian explorer who, in the late '30s, falls in with a group of British cartographers, including Geoffrey Clifton (Colin Firth) and his wife Katharine (Kristen Scott-Thomas), while mapping the deserts of North Africa. After Clifton leaves them on government business, Katharine and Clifton fall in love with each other in the desert, resulting in an affair that, naturally, has a less-than-happy ending.
If one is able to overlook the illogical parts of the story line (such as, why would a patient found in Africa be sent to what is essentially the front line of the war in Italy?), then you can appreciate "The English Patient" as a throwback to the intelligent, layered, sweeping epics of David Lean in the '60s. Much more than "Titanic" or other epic romances of late, this movie puts one in mind of "Doctor Zhivago" and "Gone With the Wind" - an epic love story set against a huge historical backdrop. You shouldn't expect a war film, though there are some striking (if all-too-brief) scenes of violence that stand out more than the romantic sections, as is usually the case (Caravaggio's interrogation by a sadistic SS officer (Jurgen Prochnow) in particular).
The movie is very ambiguous, in regards to pretty much everything. The central question of the film is: How far are you willing to go for love? As critics of the movie are fast to point out, Almasy is, on the surface, a far-from-likable character - he has an affair with a married woman and betrays his country by giving maps and intelligence to the Germans, causing the death of his friend Madox (Julian Wadham) and the torture of Caravaggio, and actually killing a British soldier who has him under arrest at one point. The fact that Almasy is in many ways reprehensible is kind of the point - he's in love with Katharine, and sees the world narrowly in terms of his love that loyalty to country (or anything else for that matter) is secondary; as Almasy says, he hates "Ownership. Being owned." The two engage in a rather bold love affair (shagging within ear shot of hundreds of people at a Christmas party) and it's clear that Katharine is more drawn to the mysterious, exciting Almasy than the comparatively boring Geoffrey.
The 1944 subplot is somewhat shaky and seems superfluous; the romance between Kip and Hannah is never completely believable, and I feel the film could have done without it. But those sequences do add an interesting texture of mystery and complexity to the film, so I won't complain too much.
Like the epics mentioned above, the film is able to convey time and place through simple devices like crowd scenes, strategically placed posters, and military presence. We do not need to dwell on the fact that it's 1938 in Cairo, but it's helpful to know. The direction of Anthony Minghella and the desert cinematography by John Seale are absolutely gorgeous; the sand dunes, sand storms, and haunting caves of the desert are captured in beautiful detail. Gabriel Yared's score is haunting and atmospheric.
The acting is generally solid. Fiennes gives a very layered performance as a character who is mysterious, complex, and haunted. The difference between the Almasys of 1938 and 1944 are remarkable; one exciting and somewhat carefree, the other haunted and reflective. Kirsten Scott Thomas is effective as Katharine, the female explorer looking for adventure, and Colin Firth gives one of his best performances as Geoffrey, who realizes early on that he's no competition for the exciting Almasy. Willem Dafoe does nice work as Caravaggio, the shifty, hunted thief-turned-spy driven by revenge. Jurgen Prochnow gives a performance reminiscent of Jose Ferrer in "Lawrence of Arabia" (and a similar character too): very brief, but more memorable then some of the major characters. Some of the 1944 actors are unremarkable: Juliette Binochette is nothing special, while Naveen Andrews is good but unremarkable. Kevin Whately, as Kip's ill-fated partner, does what he can with a rather smallish role.
"The English Patient" is not a perfect movie by any means, but the vituperative attacks on it by much of the movie-going public are not deserved at all. Maybe it's a show of how film sensibilities have changed since the era of the Leans and Kubricks, or maybe people were expecting something simple to understand. Complex to fault, brilliantly directed and shot, "The English Patient" is a wonderful modern-day epic.
Through flashbacks we learn the story of the Patient: he is Laszo Almasy (Ralph Fiennes), a Hungarian explorer who, in the late '30s, falls in with a group of British cartographers, including Geoffrey Clifton (Colin Firth) and his wife Katharine (Kristen Scott-Thomas), while mapping the deserts of North Africa. After Clifton leaves them on government business, Katharine and Clifton fall in love with each other in the desert, resulting in an affair that, naturally, has a less-than-happy ending.
If one is able to overlook the illogical parts of the story line (such as, why would a patient found in Africa be sent to what is essentially the front line of the war in Italy?), then you can appreciate "The English Patient" as a throwback to the intelligent, layered, sweeping epics of David Lean in the '60s. Much more than "Titanic" or other epic romances of late, this movie puts one in mind of "Doctor Zhivago" and "Gone With the Wind" - an epic love story set against a huge historical backdrop. You shouldn't expect a war film, though there are some striking (if all-too-brief) scenes of violence that stand out more than the romantic sections, as is usually the case (Caravaggio's interrogation by a sadistic SS officer (Jurgen Prochnow) in particular).
The movie is very ambiguous, in regards to pretty much everything. The central question of the film is: How far are you willing to go for love? As critics of the movie are fast to point out, Almasy is, on the surface, a far-from-likable character - he has an affair with a married woman and betrays his country by giving maps and intelligence to the Germans, causing the death of his friend Madox (Julian Wadham) and the torture of Caravaggio, and actually killing a British soldier who has him under arrest at one point. The fact that Almasy is in many ways reprehensible is kind of the point - he's in love with Katharine, and sees the world narrowly in terms of his love that loyalty to country (or anything else for that matter) is secondary; as Almasy says, he hates "Ownership. Being owned." The two engage in a rather bold love affair (shagging within ear shot of hundreds of people at a Christmas party) and it's clear that Katharine is more drawn to the mysterious, exciting Almasy than the comparatively boring Geoffrey.
The 1944 subplot is somewhat shaky and seems superfluous; the romance between Kip and Hannah is never completely believable, and I feel the film could have done without it. But those sequences do add an interesting texture of mystery and complexity to the film, so I won't complain too much.
Like the epics mentioned above, the film is able to convey time and place through simple devices like crowd scenes, strategically placed posters, and military presence. We do not need to dwell on the fact that it's 1938 in Cairo, but it's helpful to know. The direction of Anthony Minghella and the desert cinematography by John Seale are absolutely gorgeous; the sand dunes, sand storms, and haunting caves of the desert are captured in beautiful detail. Gabriel Yared's score is haunting and atmospheric.
The acting is generally solid. Fiennes gives a very layered performance as a character who is mysterious, complex, and haunted. The difference between the Almasys of 1938 and 1944 are remarkable; one exciting and somewhat carefree, the other haunted and reflective. Kirsten Scott Thomas is effective as Katharine, the female explorer looking for adventure, and Colin Firth gives one of his best performances as Geoffrey, who realizes early on that he's no competition for the exciting Almasy. Willem Dafoe does nice work as Caravaggio, the shifty, hunted thief-turned-spy driven by revenge. Jurgen Prochnow gives a performance reminiscent of Jose Ferrer in "Lawrence of Arabia" (and a similar character too): very brief, but more memorable then some of the major characters. Some of the 1944 actors are unremarkable: Juliette Binochette is nothing special, while Naveen Andrews is good but unremarkable. Kevin Whately, as Kip's ill-fated partner, does what he can with a rather smallish role.
"The English Patient" is not a perfect movie by any means, but the vituperative attacks on it by much of the movie-going public are not deserved at all. Maybe it's a show of how film sensibilities have changed since the era of the Leans and Kubricks, or maybe people were expecting something simple to understand. Complex to fault, brilliantly directed and shot, "The English Patient" is a wonderful modern-day epic.
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