The brilliant Anthony Minghella’s extremely successful film has been criticized ae a romantic spectacular. Here is a place to remember it, to praise it, dismember it, and if there is anyone who hasn’t seen it, to spend a couple of hours in many places and times all unified in the experience of The English Patient who lies dying and remembering. Of course it grows out of Michael Ondaatje’s novel with the sane name. Love it; hate it. Let’s hear here.
I loved it as well though the scenes with the actual patient after his accident were hard to take. It has a reputation for being long and boring but I watched it in the theater when it came out and even with the projector breaking down twice with about an extra half hour added on, I didn’t think so.
I read the book as well - I know it was very different but beautiful. It’s been a long time so can’t remember what was the difference was. I loved every scene the Sikh was in, especially when he was reading Kipling to the patient.
I saw it in the theater too, and have it on DVD. I’ve always liked it, although I prefer the framing story with hot Naveen Andrews, darling Juliette Binoche, and Kevin Whately (because I love Sgt Lewis) more than I care for the central romantic triangle.
I saw it, hated that Katharine died in the cave. Saw it for her, primarily. Kristin Scott-Thomas really puts the Yow! in Yowser! for me. I don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to slap Hugh Grant for choosing Andie McDowell over her in Four Weddings and a Funeral.
My reaction to it was that its point was the exact opposite of Casablanca - that not only is it not true that “the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world” but that the problems of those people are much more important than who wins some war you don’t care about. It’s O.K. to give information to Nazis because getting back together with your girlfriend is the most important thing in life. Who cares what Nazis do, since the only thing that’s important to you is sticking with your married girlfriend?
It was sappy and sentimental, but I was in the mood for that, so I enjoyed it. At the end, I had more sympathy for Willem Dafoe’s character than for Ralph Fiennes’ character. I enjoyed the film, but I was puzzled by all the Oscar nominations.
I was in my late teens when it came out, and I loved it. Bought the film on VHS. Watched it many, many times.
And then I didn’t watch it or think about it for about fifteen years. Less than a year ago, I watched it again. I do see the “sentimental extravaganza” part now, as well as seeing Almasy as a thoroughly despicable person, but I was shocked by how many moments and moods in it have stayed with me through the years, and affected my whole taste for and outlook on fiction.
I read the book once, fifteen years ago. IIRC it is far more about Kip and Hannah–mostly Kip. The whole love triangle story takes about ten pages.
On originally reading the book, my feeling was that Ondaatje had hit on an absolutely brilliant real-life background for a novel, but that in the execution he’d got too tied up in the side issues. A very good novel, but not quite what it could have been.
Minghella seemed to have taken the same stuff and identified the (possibly soapy) story at the heart of it. It’s a much more satisfying treatment of the same material, while still obviously a version of Ondaatje.
I highly recommend Saul Kelly’s non-fiction The Hunt for Zerzura if you’re interested in the real story. Bierman’s The Secret Life of Laszlo Almasy: The Real English Patient is a somewhat lighter read, but less insightful.