El séptimo pecado

The Seventh Sin is a reasonably faithful adaptation of Somerset Maugham's novel, "The Painted Veil," about the redemption of a hedonistic woman. Dr. Walter Carwin (Bill Travers) discovers that his wife, Carolyn (Eleanor Parker), is having a torrid affair with a married man, Paul Duvel (Jean-Pierre Aumont). He demands that she choose, and, as he expected, she chooses Duvel who then dumps her. Bereft, she resentfully goes with her husband to rural China, where he joins the forces fighting a cholera epidemic.

There they meet Tim Waddington (George Sanders), a government functionary who takes Carolyn under his wing. They visit to the local convent, which is also an orphanage and hospital where we witness this vain, shallow woman's abrupt metamorphosis: her maternal instincts bloom at the sight of all the newborns in the maternity ward, and she offers to volunteer. Sudden satori? It happens, I gather, but Carolyn has never seen babies before? I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and assume it's the circumstances-- i.e., her boredom.

Never mind. It's a wonderful development, no? No. The Mother Superior (the legendary Françoise Rosay) refuses Carolyn's offer on the grounds that it isn't properly motivated. Seriously. She echoes the original novel: "You know, my dear child, that one cannot find peace in work or in pleasure, in the world or in a convent, but only in one's soul."

Wrong. In fact, on the contrary, doing good work is a source of both peace and pleasure. That would be a worthy theme for a movie about a woman finally realizing that giving is more satisfying than receiving. But-- and here's the underlying problem-- Carolyn isn't a credible woman, she's a construct similar to most of Maugham's women, and not a few of his men: European expats immersed in a foreign culture-- more like a Petri dish of anonymous humans than an actual civilization-- that nurtures their growth. "A Passage to India" is arguably an exception. Even so, when it comes to writing about White people unmoored in the world, give me Andre Malraux or Graham Greene.

"The Seventh Sin" from 1957 stars Eleanor Parker, Bill Travers, George Sanders, Jean-Pierre Aumont, and Francoise Rosay.

Parker plays Carolyn Carwin, living in postwar Hong Kong with her husband, Dr. Walter Corwin (Travers) but is having an affair with Paul (Aumont). She never really loved her husband - she used him to get away from her family - but he has always loved her. For reasons known only to herself, she finds him physically repulsive. Bill Travers? That was the first dumb thing.

Walter is going into a remote village to fight the cholera epidemic. He gives Carolyn a choice - she can accompany him or he will cause a huge scandal in the divorce. Then he suggests a third option - if Paul will divorce his wife and marry her immediately, he won't give her any trouble. He knows full well that Paul won't divorce his wife and is proved correct. The two leave for the village.

Once there, they meet Tim Waddington (Sanders) who picks up on their marital problems. Gradually Carolyn becomes aware of her husband's dedication to his work and her own selfishness and narcissism.

Previous versions of The Painted Veil take place in an earlier time, and the trip to the village is harrowing. It becomes obvious that Walter hopes his wife dies, or he doesn't care, and he certainly doesn't care if she contracts cholera when they arrive. Post- WWII, they don't have a bad time of it travel-wise.

Parker is beautiful as the imperious Carolyn, who finds the village a growing experience, and Sanders cast against type is a real bright spot, giving a wonderful performance. There are nice scenes between Carolyn and the nun at the orphanage (Rosay) who understands Carolyn better than she thinks. Travers is sympathetic as the hard-working doctor who only wanted to love his wife and have her love him.

The Maugham story of The Painted Veil is a strong one, but it's hard for this version to compete with either version, the 1934 with Greta Garbo or the 2006 with its brilliant cinematography. Though it's not as good, it is still absorbing. I haven't read the story, so I'm not sure what the original ending is - all three versions have different endings.

Originally, I had no intention of watching this film on TCM, but the presence of Bill Travers got my attention, and I gave the movie a shot.

Frankly, I am surprised at how much I enjoyed it. All of the leading performances are excellent, and the back lot filming appropriately evokes the implied locations. Sanders is, indeed, the most thoroughly explored character, supporting or not. Travers portrays the brooding husband quite effectively, and Parker has perfected the role of a selfish woman in many films.

Having not read the original novel, I cannot comment on the translation to the screen. However, as a stand-alone film, the results are intriguing, and well done. "The Painted Veil" certainly makes a better title, however.

THE SEVENTH SIN is a remake of the Greta Garbo vehicle, "The Painted Veil", taken from a Somerset Maugham novel about a woman's journey to redeem herself. This time the unhappily married woman is ELEANOR PARKER and the husband is played by BILL TRAVERS (rather than the jilted dullard Herbert Marshall played in the Garbo version). Obviously designed to satisfy movie-goers who loved romantic stories of this sort, it manages to hold interest without ever becoming a great film.

Parker is poised and beautiful throughout, giving a very understated performance as a woman caught in the throes of what she believes is a great romance with JEAN-PIERRE AUMONT, who disappoints her when he refuses to divorce his wife. She flees to China with her doctor husband who is going to administer to those caught in a plague of cholera, eventually realizing that her selfish nature is capable of undergoing a change and working at a convent for orphaned Chinese children.

The plot resolution is a bit disappointing for anyone expecting a happy ending, but it's all tastefully handled material performed admirably by Parker and Travers. GEORGE SANDERS, as a brandy guzzling friend with some acid comments (in the Sanders manner), gives the story a lift with his wit and cynical charm.

Not bad as these sort of melodramas go, but nothing really special.

Somerset Maugham's novella from 1925, inspired by an episode in Dante's 'Purgatorio', has been filmed three times over a period of seventy years with decidedly mixed results.

This second version credits Ronald Neame as director but for reasons which are not readily apparent but can easily be guessed at, he left the production which was then assigned to Vincente Minnelli. Anyone curious as to the extent of Minnelli's contribution should read the earlier review by John Howard Reid who got it straight from the horse's mouth.

By Hollywood standards this adaptation by Karl Tunberg is reasonably faithful to the original with a few exceptions. Selfish social climber Kitty has now become fundamentally decent and self-effacing Carolyn of Eleanor Parker whilst the love rat is no longer a suave Englishman but a suave Frenchman played by Jean Pierre Aumont. The character of Carolyn's husband has become rather one-dimensional in the hands of Bill Travers and this actor's limitations are all too obvious. As Waddington the inveterate gossip, George Sanders is excellent and reminds us once again what a very fine actor he could be when granted the opportunity whilst the always-good-value Francoise Rosay lends gravitas to the proceedings as Mother Superior.

Miss Parker had earlier played Mildred in Maugham's 'Of Human Bondage' which was shelved for two years and badly received on release and the reception given to this one was not much better. These disappointments do not reflect badly on her performances and she remains one of Hollywood's finest, if somewhat underrated actresses who always gave her best regardless of the material.

As one would expect from MGM the production values are first class with Miklós Rozsá providing one of his best scores. Although not as entertaining as Boleslawski's bowdlerised version with Greta Garbo it is, for this viewer at any rate, far more engrossing than the more recent attempt by John Curran.

Somerset Maugham's novella is highly recommended and one in which he draws upon his own loveless marriage, his knowledge of medicine and of course his customary scalpel-like dissection of the human species.