"You loved him"

Rating: 9/10 (12 February 2012)

Once every five or ten years there is produced an epic, historical romantic tragedy, a movie of incredible beauty and emotional magnitude that tends to make a sweep at the Oscars, usually deserved. The late 80s and early 90s had been suspiciously devoid of any such movie. And then, all of sudden, a bunch of them came along at once. The English Patient sees such a grand romance with the elusive themes and complex structuring more often encountered in the art house.
It is not, however, dull or pretentious, possessing a directness and humanity that makes us feel somehow involved. Director Anthony Minghella does not attempt to dazzle us with any form of technical wizardry. His style is simple, thoughtful, with few camera movements. At certain times he places us right within the action, such as at the beginning of the first flashback, where the camera occupies the space of an imaginary extra person as the team discuss their expedition (this is a trick classic master Frank Capra also used, by the way). At other times, particularly in the 1945 scenes at the monastery, his camera looks down upon things, but the sense at these times is not one of cold detachment, but one of giving the characters some space and freedom at moments of high emotion, as when they bring the bedridden Count out in the rain.
The English Patient has practically an ensemble cast, with players of many different temperaments contributing something, and no-one quite seeming to be in a lead role. Although she won her awards as a supporting actress, Juliette Binoche provides perhaps the strongest presence throughout the movie. Her character is bereaved several times, and it's admirable how she manages to make the emotion seem genuine even in repetition. Together with Naveen Andrews and Kevin Whately she forms a warm, likable trio that viewers are instantly able to connect with. Ralph Fiennes and Kristin Scott Thomas, the lovers of the primary story, are a sharp contrast. While both are physically very beautiful, there is a stiffness and formality about them both which, despite some wonderful efforts (Fiennes's drunk act is priceless), they never quite break out of enough to make their passion seem truly alive.
But perhaps this is part of the point. The English Patient is after all a picture of shifting tones. The scenes of 1945 depict a time for healing, mourning and rebuilding, and as such the only times where real human feeling is allowed to flow. Perhaps it is right that the dead romance of the past should be portrayed with a loftiness as of some ancient legend. Thinking in these terms, it becomes possible to see the movie for its all-round care in construction – the deeply-composed shots within the monastery that look like Vermeer paintings; the Walter Murch editing that seems cut together for harmonies of sound as much as image – a design in which even the style of acting performances is keyed into the dual storytelling. This is a picture in which the artiness and metaphor of highbrow filmmaking meet the grandeur and sentiment of the mainstream, to overwhelming effect.