The Wings of the Dove

The Wings of the Dove (1997), directed by Iain Softley

Other than the occasional genre movie, why is it that most film literary adaptations these days are based on antique sources? Of late, the most frequently-set authors have been figures like E. M. Forster, Jane Austen, and Henry James. Why this reach back to the literature of the early years of this century and before? Perhaps it is easier on the mind to see people made unhappy in a society where sex is suppressed, where people are disenfranchised by class, and where women are powerless. To see stories of people unhappy today in an egalitarian society when sex is freer, when possession of cash is the sole class distinction, when the sexes are supposedly equal, would be far too depressing.

In any case, the current vogue for Henry James, with new films based on Portrait of a Lady and Washington Square, has resulted in a setting of The Wings of the Dove which emphasizes the theme of sexual betrayal. Unfortunately, the stolidity of some of the cast kills the humanity of the story, which was never intended to be a lite version of Liaisons Dangeureuses. While James's novel establishes from the beginning the friendship between Kate Croy (Helena Bonham Carter) and Millie Theale (Allison Elliott), the film leans much more on the idea of Kate using Millie in order to get a handle on her fortune. Thus, we travel to Venice for the balance of hte tale.

Bonham Carter has been praised for her performance in the film, has won a number of critics' awards, has been nominated for an Oscar, and is considered by Vegas bookies to be the front-runner to win the award. However, I found little about her to praise in this film. Kate, her character, is supposedly a young lady with aristocracy but without money, in love with a newspaper reporter, Merton (Linus Roache), but forbidden to see him by her intimidating Aunt Maud (Charlotte Rampling, that uber-slut of 60's-70's British cinema). Kate stands around looking hurt much of the time, but the viewers never actually feel any hurt being conveyed.

Millie, an American heiress, comes into town and shakes things up a bit by her very presence. While she has no aristocracy, no name, no family, she does have fabulous wealth, and so she is embraced by the noble-but-destitute elite. Kate learns both that Millie is dying and that she happens to be infatuated with Merton, so a plan is formed. Merton will seduce Millie, and be rewarded by her tremendous fortune once she passes away. This will keep the door open for Kate and Merton to be married afterwards. Kate cannot bear to see this plan put into operation, however, so she returns to London from Venice, where Merton continues his courtship of the sick young lady.

It is obvious from the film's beginning that Kate and Merton will not end the movie in possession of Millie's fortune. The only question is how the plan will deviate from its original conception. If the film had been based on Brecht instead of James, then Millie would have turned out to be healthy instead of dying. Instead, the plan flounders because Kate and Merton feel too much affection, love even, for their mark, and are later repulsed by their own earlier actions.

Roache is not exactly ideal as a man who is manipulated by one woman into manipulating another, but his revulsion for his earlier actions at the end of the film is well-portrayed. He also cuts an interesting onscreen figure with his hollow cheeks and haunted eyes. The true gem of the cast is Elliott as the character who has money, but desires companionship, love, and health. She achieves the first of these goals, but the last two slip from her fingers. Elliott seems to be suffering from "Ali MacGraw Disease," that mysterious cinematic ailment that causes the victim to grow more and more beautiful until she (or he) dies. Elliott is indeed a lovely woman, and she creates one of the most sympathetic portraits of a wealthy woman ever seen onscreen.

In the tradition of Merchant-Ivory films, the technical and artistic credits here are impeccable: art direction and costumes are authentic and lovely. Among the technical credits, sound and cinematography are the real standouts. The scenes in Venice are filled with the sounds of the city: gondoliers calling out loudly, noises from the marketplace, and so on. The cinematography (Eduardo Serra) is equally impressive, giving Venice the sickly look that is so appropriate to a city that is synonymous with death. My favorite scenes, however, are in London, which Serra makes look forbidding and dark. The climactic love scene between Kate and Merton looks profoundly uncomfortable, physically as well as psychologically, just as it should be.

Softley is a relatively new director. His last film was the execrable Hackers, justly derided as one of the worst films of the decade. The Wings of the Dove is superior to that effort, and contains many worthy elements, even some superior ones. As it is, however, it remains a mostly bland literary adaptation, devoid of life and any definite theme. Three stars equals my approval, but the approval is not enthusiastic. One would, no doubt, be better off by reading the Jamesian original.

Three stars