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This is the dreary tale of the self absorbed affair between two unlikable people, one of whom is married to someone else. It ranks high on my list of most boring movies ever, and I'm a die hard romantic. My husband opted out after the first hour of its three, by which time little had transpired. The desert scenery is spectacular, with the endless sand and the sunshine on Katharine's golden hair. However, cinematography does not a brilliant film make, unless it's a National Geographic travelogue. The magnificent Saharan scenery in this ill conceived tale is like putting perfume on a pig.
The movie revolves around a badly burned, dying pilot named Count Laszlo de Almasy, who is left in the care of a Canadian army nurse, Hana, during World War II Italy. He appears to remember little of his life but through a book in his possession, his story is VERY SLOWLY revealed, with the help of a man from his past named Caravaggio, who mysteriously appears at his deathbed. Almasy was a Hungarian cartographer employed by the Royal Geographical Society to chart the Sahara Desert. He entered into an affair with the wife, Katherine, of a fellow explorer who proved to be a British spy. Meanwhile in the present, Laszlo's nurse has her own affair with a Sikh nicknamed Kip, who is involved in the dangerous work of disarming mines.
My quarrels with this movie are many, length and tedium for starters. I don't fault the acting in particular, it simply isn't a good story. Caravaggio seems unnecessary, his connection to Almasy sketchy. He provides a torture scene but appears to serve no essential purpose in the film.
The core problem is that the two parties of this affair, Almasy and Katharine, are woefully unsympathetic characters, shallow and dull. They simply aren't very nice, thus there is no one to cheer for. Almasy is cool, aloof, haughty, and eventually disgustingly possessive of another man's wife. Katharine is likewise detached and nasty, not to mention having a deplorable lack of guilt or feeling whatsoever for her imperfect but loving husband...apart from managing one minuscule tear at the corner of her eye when he dies.
This is a tale of LUST rather than love, with such pearls as 'I can still taste you'. Almasy ridiculously vocalizes to a colleague his erotic obsession with the indentation in his beloved's neck, surely more indicative of a focus on Katharine's body. The victim of this unrepentant adultery is the hapless husband, Geoffrey, who is treated as little more than an unpleasant nuisance. It's all quite sordid and disgusting, Katharine's charade of feeling faint so that these lovers can indulge in their much vaunted unbridled passion, all as Silent Night is being sung in the background. I'm not sure whether the intent was to contrast the carol's purity with their selfish lust, but I definitely was not impressed by the sacrilegious undertone. We have full frontal nudity with Katharine, but their sex scenes come across as cold, selfish, lustful, and sometimes downright hateful...not warm, loving, giving, nor even truly passionate. If either of these two feels any emotion for the other, it is a totally selfish one and definitely NOT love, as I define the word.
Almasy's return to the Cave of the Swimmers to retrieve the body of his beloved comes across as contrived rather than moving. Katharine must have expired only moments earlier as she shows excellent colour and barely appears dozing, not at all corpse like. Of course this is all for dramatic effect, as the romantics watching this tale (normally I'd be one of them) would not appreciate a decaying, putrid corpse. In order to retrieve his adulterous lover's body, he has betrayed his comrades & the Allies by giving his maps to the Nazis, the English being cast as the villains of the piece. Regardless of whether or not he's keeping his final promise to Katharine, his traitorous act is not something I admire much.
Kip seems a pleasant fellow and Hana generally likable, but their romance is not in the least engaging, merely a brief wartime fling with the parties indicating little trauma upon parting. Moving back and forth between the two settings (past Sahara Desert and present Italy) proved distracting and unpleasant but really, both stories were dull as dishwater. The only spark of interest in the whole picture was Kip's tense mine disarming scene.
Not being totally heartless, I did have some sympathy for the current Almasy's severely burned and dying state. However, perhaps my major complaint with this film is the euthanasia at the end when Hana obliges her patient by giving him a morphine overdose. We are supposed to feel that this is justified and morally acceptable because she obviously has affection for Almasy, cries while she is preparing the deadly syringe, and reads aloud from his allegedly passionate Herodotus book to console him as he's dying.
The amazing director David Lean's masterpieces should not be insulted by comparison with this pathetic, immoral tale. Yes, Lawrence of Arabia also has a desert, but in Lean films (Doctor Zhivago, Brief Encounter), those engaging in affairs are sympathetic characters exhibiting admirable restraint, guilt, and some regard for the betrayed spouse, as opposed to the total self absorption of this pair. In Ryan's Daughter, the cuckold husband displays touching loyalty and forgiveness.
This movie is a supposedly intellectual, enormously over rated bit of boring and disgusting drivel that unfortunately passes itself off as a great love story. Its Best Picture Oscar does not speak well for the Academy. For those who wonder why people are so hard on this movie, the answer is simple. It's awful.


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