Cast: Ralph Fiennes, Julianne Moore, Stephen Rea, Ian Hart, Sam Bould, Jason Isaacs
Director: Neil Jordan
Producers: Stephen Woolley, Neil Jordan
Screenplay: Neil Jordan, based on the novel by Graham Greene
Cinematography: Roger Pratt
Music: Michael Nyman
U.S. Distributor: Columbia Pictures
If a tree falls in a forest and there's no one around to hear it, does it make a sound? While scientists can offer a definitive answer to that riddle, philosophers have mulled over its implications for centuries. In a strange, elliptical way, it's a little like the central question posed by Neil Jordan's The End of the Affair: If love is nurtured in the heart of one person, but is never expressed, does it really exist, or is it just a fantasy? For each of the two principals in The End of the Affair, the answer is different. For Sarah (Julianne Moore), love is boundless and endless, and can last even when two people cease to have contact - it is a spiritual force. However, for Maurice (Ralph Fiennes), some sort of physical intimacy is necessary. He believes only in what he can see, hear, smell, taste, or feel.
The End of the Affair takes place during the days and months following World War 2, when life in England is slowly returning to normal. We meet the not-so-happily married couple of Sarah and Henry Miles (Stephen Rea). During the course of their union, they have drifted apart. Henry, a workaholic, admits to not having been much of a husband and never having been a true lover to his wife. Novelist Maurice Bendrix, a friend of the couple's, once filled the latter function. During the summer of 1939, he and Sarah met and began a torrid affair. They professed undying love for one another, and, while Henry worked long hours on the war effort, Maurice and Sarah spent the time in Maurice's flat. But, on a night when Maurice was seriously wounded in a German air raid, the relationship abruptly ended. When Sarah left him, he was bitter and angry, and all of his love turned to rage and hatred. Sarah, on the other hand, believed in a pure love - a kind that would endure to her dying day, even if circumstances prevented her from ever seeing Maurice again.
Several years after the end of the affair, Maurice has a chance meeting with Henry, who confesses to his old friend that he believes Sarah is being unfaithful. The ugly specter of jealousy rears its head for Maurice - even though he has not seen Sarah in years, he cannot bear the thought of her being with someone else. In fact, he once said, "I would rather be dead or see you dead than see you with another man." So, pretending to act on Henry's behalf, he hires a private investigator (Ian Hart) to follow Sarah and learn the identity of her new lover.
The End of the Affair is more satisfying on an intellectual level than it is on an emotional one. The metaphysical issues posed by the film are intriguing. In addition to probing into the depth of the spiritual and physical components of love, Jordan explores the ways in which the vagaries of fate and/or the Hand of God shape people's destinies. How many coincidences must occur before a devout atheist is forced to admit that some unseen power is guiding his life? And, in an attempt to maintain a balance between Sarah and Maurice's often contradictory perspectives, Jordan allows certain key scenes to be repeated twice - once from Sarah's point-of-view (using her words in a voiceover) and once from Maurice's (employing his words).
Certain elements of The End of the Affair reminded me of another 1999 film, Lovers of the Arctic Circle. However, while the two movies explore similar themes and use a few of the same techniques, The End of the Affair is a more dour experience. One of the film's faults is that it approaches everything with an almost apocalyptic grimness - even the movie's few moments of levity don't seem especially light. There's also a problem with The End of the Affair's structure. As the title indicates, the story is not about the genesis of Sarah and Maurice's relationship, but a little more fleshing out of their early days would have deepened the later sense of loss and regret.
With recent outings such as Onegin, Oscar and Lucinda, and The English Patient, Ralph Fiennes is falling into a rut portraying the handsome male lead in tales of tragic love. It's a role he plays well, but I keep hoping he'll stretch his range again the way he did in Schindler's List, where his interpretation of Amon Goeth caused my nape hairs to stand on end. The versatile Julianne Moore (currently also seen, albeit with more clothing, in Magnolia) presents a believably conflicted Sarah. The chemistry between Fiennes and Moore is pitched at just about the perfect level - not too hot and not too cold. There's a lot of desperation, bitterness, and longing in their perfunctory exchanges - emotions that occasionally tinge the affection exhibited in the flashbacks.
Stephen Rea, who has been a mainstay in Jordan's films (including, but not limited to, Michael Collins, The Butcher Boy, and The Crying Game), is once again making an appearance for the director. While there's nothing wrong with Rea's performance, he is playing an inherently unrealistic character. Henry is supposed to be ineffectual, but the screenplay makes him into both a wimp and a saint. The ease with which he accepts the truth of Sarah and Maurice's affair, and the emotional martyrdom he puts himself through during the film's closing third, is difficult to accept. I kept waiting for some kind of explosion - a flash of hatred, anger, blame, or anything that would have resulted in a less bland individual.
The End of the Affair is based on a semi-autobiographical novel by Graham Greene. I can say with some assurance that while the basic characters from the story have survived this book-to-screen transition, aspects of their humanity have been marooned on the written page. In a holiday season when so many movies have made an art of overstaying their welcome, here is the exception to the rule - a film that probably would have benefited from a few extra minutes. Nevertheless, even with its flaws, The End of the Affair still possesses the quiet power to involve the viewer in a simple tale that is likely to invoke his or her own feelings about love, fate, and God.
© 1999 James Berardinelli