Die Flügel der Taube

In this most affecting adaptation of Henry James's dense and difficult novel, Ian Softley brings passion back to the oft-derided genre of "period" movie. There are many angles in the story; tales of deception, social hypocrisy, conflict between our hearts' desire and our conscience, of regrets, and some degree, of just deserts. However, in the heart of it lies an unforgettable love triangle, fuelled by the amazing performances of the three leads. Helena Bohnam-Carter, in the pinnacle of her career, embodies the fierce intelligence and ruthless determination of Kate Croy, a woman born in a wrong era, whose effort to hold on to both love and wealth tragically backfires. Linus Roache, playing Kate's secret love, brings tortured Merton Densher (where does James come up with these names?) vividly to life. He has the sort of intense good looks and physical presence required for this role in spades; and his dramatic ability shines though, especially in his last scene with Millie, where he acknowledges his duplicity before the all-accepting love of the dying girl with an incredible raw emotionality. I was most impressed with Allison Elliot's Millie, however. The angelic Millie could have been a big cliché of a character, but in Elliot's skillful hands, Millie takes on the luminance of spirits and love of life that grow even as her physical strength fails. The story and the actors are tremendously aided by gorgeous cinematography (especially the mournful beauty of rain-soaked Venice) , costumes-to-die-for by Sandy Powell (who wore that fabulous red dress to this year's Oscar, accepting the award for "Shakespeare in Love". She should have won it for this film), and beautiful music. A movie to be watched in a dark rainy afternoon, and savored like fine wine.

"The Wings of the Dove" poetically unveils itself with beautiful visuals and explorations in to the complexities of desire. A tragic irony, with an excellent finale. This movie also contains the most painfully emotive sex scene that I have ever seen; as it is honest and detailed with emotions that so rarely are captured this brilliantly in 'art'. This movie is intimate.

This was not one of my favorite novels when I read it (for James, I prefer THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY), but this is a very good film. Director Iain Softley and writer Hossein Amini made the smart decision to move this up in time to the 1910's, which enables them to get to the passions more than James does here. Softley also makes this darker than most literary adaptations, in look and in tone, without suffocating it, and he avoids making this a film about production design rather than about a story. He does labor a bit in trying for tragedy, but that's only a quibble.

Alison Elliot, a good actress (I liked her in THE UNDERNEATH and the otherwise flawed THE SPITFIRE GRILL), takes awhile to warm up as Millie, because she seems a little too modern, but she avoids easy sentiment as the dying heiress. Linus Roache, who I thought was a little awkward in PRIEST, here avoids the trap of being the third wheel, making us understand what both Millie and Kate see in Merton. But the real triumph here is Helena Bonham Carter, who gave the best performance of the year. One character says of Kate, "There's something going on behind those beautiful lashes," and that can usually be said of the characters Carter plays, but sometimes she's overly detached. Here, she's completely engaged, and she pulls off the difficult trick of never losing our sympathies even when her character does something despicable. And where James sort of made Kate just manipulative, Carter makes her human and longing.

The Wings of the Dove is an incredible film.

Helena Bonham Carter performs her role with nuances of visage and body, and in particular eyebrow, which capture the essence of Kate's manipulation and longing. Everyone performs well.

The cinematography is some of the most beautiful I have ever seen on film--it ranks near Vertigo as one of a few films which breach entertainment and are masterpieces of art. The Venetian and Edwardian locales never cease to fascinate and titilate the viewer. The final sequence represents graphically the vacuity which has enveloped Kate and her love with haunting realism.

Do not watch the film to be "entertained"--it depresses with little reserve and wrenches the heart. Let the music, camera, and Bonham Carter sweep you into the magic of this cinematic masterpiece.

There are two tests in my mind for a classic film.

First, it must plant some images permanently in your life. Very few films do that. Two films that are cogent to discussing this one are Helena Bonham Carter's Ophelia in Zefferelli's `Hamlet.' She and Glenn Close acted circles around the guys -- her expression in the midst of the play within the play is lasting over years in my memory. The whole film revolves around that moment.

Also lasting are several images from the ostensibly unambitious `Oscar and Lucinda.' But I also carry many lasting film images that are junk, courtesy of Lucas and Spielberg. That brings us to the second condition: for a film to be classic, evocation of the images, the remembrance, needs to be multidimensional, to elevate rather than dumb down.

Measured by those rules, this film is remarkable. For a few years, I have carried the image of the next to last scene where Carter makes love and in the act discovers the truth about her love. This is so wonderful, so tragic, so true that it has stuck with me, together with the secondary images, the memories of Venice and Millie that Merton is in love with. I hope to follow this woman's career for decades. I wonder where it will go?