Adultery as narrative catalyst in cinema

By Steve Evans

The aftermath of a cheating spouse drives the plot of so many great films that this narrative stratagem could be a cinematic sub-genre of its own. I cannot think of a single film dealing with infidelity in which the outcome of an adulterous affair leads to anything but misery and tragedy.

In every instance, the spouse committing the affair is portrayed as morally bankrupt, neurotic, emotionally unwell or completely unencumbered by conscience. Human beings if anything are an impulsive species of animal, driven more often than not by their own selfish desires to the exclusion of everyone around them. Adultery remains such a sturdy cinematic trope because it is the ultimate betrayal between two people who at least at one time shared common hopes, dreams and intimacies. In real life, the consequences are emotionally devastating for at least one individual. In the cinematic realm, the consequences are often much worse.

A representative sampling: 

The Graduate
Mrs. Robinson seduces newly-minted college grad’ Benjamin, whose confusion with his life is so total that he ends up having an affair with her daughter, as well. Many viewers view this film and come away with the idea that it ends happily. Look closely at the expressions of the protagonists as the bus pulls away. The end is, at best, ambiguous. Outcome: uncertain.

Body Heat
The wife (Kathleen Turner) of a wealthy businessman conspires with her lover (a none-too-bright attorney played by William Hurt) to murder her husband and collect on his life insurance. Double-crosses and a twist ending follow multiple deaths and a long prison sentence. Outcome: Murder, arson, prison.

Double Indemnity
Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray plot to murder her husband and stage the death like an accident so his insurance will pay off double the policy rate. Body Heat is essentially a remake of this classic film noir, in which Edward G. Robinson plays against type as a good guy. Outcome: Murder and prison, preceded by some snappy dialog.

The English Patient
A profoundly moving tragedy in which an illicit affair comes undone by a jealous husband, who crashes his bi-plane in an effort to kill his wife and her paramour. Though the narrative tilts in favor of the lovers, the film also makes clear that they are aware what they are doing is wrong – and they proceed anyway.  No better film about choices and consequences has been made in the last 30 years. Oscar winner for Best Picture of 1996. Outcome: Murder, suicide, burn-victim agony, soul-wrenching contemplation, euthanasia. As if the horrid backdrop of World War II was not enough.

Blood Simple
The Coen Brother’s first film, a neo-noir of adultery, conspiracy and violent death. Frances McDormand plays the wife of a shady bar owner involved in an affair with one of his bartenders. The husband hires a sociopathic fixer to kill them both, but as with most characters in the Coen’s cinematic world, the aftermath of marital betrayal leads to a convoluted series of double-crosses, mistrust and murder. Outcome: being buried alive, shot through the heart, stabbed in the hand and one thoroughly wrecked bathroom.

American Beauty

Another Best Picture Oscar winner (1999), American Beauty explores the dysfunction beneath seemingly placid suburbia, especially middle-aged angst and the gnawing dissatisfaction that life derailed somewhere along the way. Oscar-winner Kevin Spacey lusts for a cheerleader at his daughter’s high school. His daughter gets involved with a weird kid who deals pot and shoots strange videos. As Spacey’s wife, Annette Bening has an affair with the local real estate hotshot, leading to his own divorce. A homosexual subplot propels the picture to a tragic climax with only the slightest grace note of redemption for Spacey’s character. Outcome: ruined lives, shattered dreams, murder.

Cinema Uprising copyright© 2015 by Steve Evans. All rights reserved.

The English Patient died...and saved my life

By Steve Evans

I have seen "The English Patient" many, many times, including a press screening in advance of its original theatrical release 18 years ago. I have many smart friends who tell me this Best Picture Oscar winner is overlong, contrived in its emotional manipulation, and deviates from the source novel (as if it is the only film ever to have done so). I respect my friends, though not always their opinions. The English Patient remains on my annual rotation of must-see motion pictures. That means I am coming up on at least my 19th viewing.

Perhaps it's the music, especially Mahler's concertos for piano, that I find so enchanting. Or maybe it's Kristen Scott Thomas and her smoldering carnality. More likely, it's the essential gentle goodness of Juliet Binoche, ripe and erotic, who won an Oscar for her performance as a compassionate nurse whose smile might very well be the cure for cancer. Maybe I relate to the blind arrogance and eventual sad regret of Ralph Fienne's Count Laszlo de Almásy, the English Patient of the title, even though this is a misnomer and he is Hungarian by birth. Or perhaps it's the performance of Colin Firth, in an early role, who plays a grieving, vengeful lover who sets the sorrowful plot in motion.

Whatever alchemy this film may weave over devotees of literate drama, I know only that I have been overwhelmed by the cinematography every time I have viewed the picture. That the blend of images, story and performance moves me to tears every time, even though the film is as familiar to me as a beloved piece of classical music. The notes progress as they must, in precise sequence, moving inexorably to a coda already known.

And still I am moved by The English Patient. It pierces deep into the recesses of my mind, into the places I share with no one. It lives there, now, in my heart. There are moments in this film when I will cry, as if on cue, and I am powerless to stop the emotion. I know this story. I know what's coming. It is the sheer brilliance of the cinematic execution in the telling of the tale that pulls me under its spell. I am powerless to resist the allure of this picture. I could no more look away or deny the power of the film than laugh off the claims of an anesthesiologist who told me to count backwards from 10 and soon I would fall unconscious.

Director Anthony Minghella's greatest film (he left this mortal plane too soon) evokes a precise time and place, and sets in motion a romantic tragedy so profound, that I will throw my cards to the table and say it is the equal of anything I have read by Sophocles, Shakespeare, or even my own impassioned (and not half-bad) gibberish to my soon-to-be ex-wife.

The English Patient is a cautionary tale of choices and consequences. We can still choose to move forward without letting our past mistakes dictate our future decisions, without letting external factors like crazed pilots guide their planes like missiles toward us, determining our fate.

Scar tissue awaits us all, whether from the heat of burning flame on the surface, or the searing heat of emotional anguish within.

The English Patient ends on an epiphany and that devastating, bittersweet smile on the face of Juliet Binoche. If my dear readers may indulge my interpretation of her smile, it is this:

So long as we may live, there is hope. There is now; this very moment, to pause and reflect and decide what next to do. And with every continued breath, there is the possibility of tomorrow, a new day perhaps a little less painful than the night we endured before.

And that's enough.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6KIfuwRmqQ

Cinema Uprising copyright © 2014 by Stephen B. Evans. All rights reserved.