Evangelicals Now
<< May 1997 >>

The English Patient

The English Patient
Cert. 15

Anthony Minghella has directed a remarkable film. Acclaimed by the critics, it was no surprise when it won nine Oscars. An intricate story-line, strong and sensitive acting, inspiring photography and a moving musical score are combined in a masterpiece.
The story itself is adapted from a novel by Michael Ondaatje focusing on the last days and recollections of a horribly burned Hungarian, Count Ladislaus Almasy, who lies dying in an Italian monastery, tended by a Canadian army nurse who has left her regiment to care for him. Present and past intertwine, as the dying man remembers his tragic affair with a beautiful English-woman. Themes of mortality, faithfulness and betrayal run in parallel, and prompt searching questions.
As in all art, there is a strange dualism in film-making. The need to distinguish between a film's message, and the way that this message is portrayed, must never be forgotten. We can leave a cinema knowing that we have watched a masterpiece, and yet be profoundly disturbed by what we have seen.
The centrepiece of Minghella's film is the love affair between Almasy and Katherine Clifton. It is no less than adultery, but is portrayed as an inevitable and beautiful meeting of two souls thrown together by fate. All that stands between them and consummation of their desires is their stiff English reserve and her fear that her husband will discover her unfaithfulness.
These obstacles are quickly brushed aside. Katherine's words as she lies in the arms of her lover - 'This is a different world, I tell myself, a different life, and here I'm a different wife' - dispel any moral discomfort. There is little focus on the pain caused to her husband - presented as a rather bumbling man, meriting little sympathy - although we do share in his sleepless anguish when he first learns of the affair. As the film draws near its close, Katherine dies. Almasy grieves. And cinema audiences weep- aching at this tragic end to true love. Thoughts of betrayal and deceit seem almost insensitive.
This dualism quickly and silently affects our view of the affair between Almasy and Katherine. It is easy to acknowledge that what they do is wrong, but then to ignore this and to be swept along with the euphoria of their passion. We can be lured into seeing the adultery as unavoidable and, somehow, right. But betrayal and adultery should sadden and anger us. The portrayal of marital infidelity as inevitable, or even beautiful, is a symptom of the state of our society. Sadly it is also more. Such films can only act to normalise adultery and to mask its awful consequences. Many, doubting the existence of objective standards of right and wrong, see obedience to one's feelings and desires as the highest virtue.
Just how different we should be! In a society where faithfulness is devalued, as the idea of commitment in the face of all odds is scorned, Christians have an opportunity to stand out. We must voice God's denunciation of evil, but with a love and humility that we rarely show. And in our own personal lives, we must not be swayed by feelings and temptations. We do not struggle against our evil desires in vain. 'Blessed is anyone who endures temptation. Such a one has stood the test and will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him' (James 1.12).

David Horrocks