The
French Lieutenant's Woman (1981)
Directed
by: Karel
Reisz.
Written
by: Harold
Pinter based on the novel by John Fowles.
Starring:
Meryl
Streep (Sarah and Anna), Jeremy Irons (Charles and Mike), Hilton McRae (Sam), Emily
Morgan (Mary), Charlotte Mitchell (Mrs. Tranter), Lynsey Baxter (Ernestina), Peter
Vaughan (Mr. Freeman), Colin Jeavons (Vicar), Liz Smith (Mrs. Fairley), Patience
Collier (Mrs. Poulteney),Leo McKern (Dr. Grogan), Edward Duke (Nathaniel), Richard
Griffiths (Sir Tom), Michael Elwyn (Montague), Toni Palmer (Mrs. Endicott), Cecily
Hobbs (Betty Anne), David Warner (Murphy), Alun Armstrong (Grimes), Gérard
Falconetti (Davide), Penelope Wilton (Sonia), Joanna Joseph (Lizzie), Orlando
Fraser (Tom Elliott).
Before Karel Reisz made The French Lieutenant’s
Woman in 1981, most thought that John Fowles celebrated 1969 novel was
unadaptable. Fowles strategy was to tell a Victorian romance, but with a
post-modern take – so the reader is aware of the time in which the book was
written, and that then you are viewing this story through a modern day’s lens.
The novel also made multiple endings – with no real way of telling which is the
“real” ending. These are strategies that can work on the page, but on film, a
much more literal medium, it nearly impossible to pull off. What Reisz, and
screenwriter Harold Pinter, come up with though is a way to achieve the same
thing, by different means. They are no longer telling one story, but two. The
first is the plot of The French Lieutenant’s Woman, the Victoria romance
between marked woman Sarah (Meryl Streep), and scientist Charles (Jeremy
Irons), who sets about to “rescue” Sarah, and in a way does, just not in the
way he thinks. The second is the modern story of Anna and Mike (Streep and
Irons again), who are actors, playing Sarah and Charles, and having an onset
affair. They are similar love stories in that in both, Irons doesn’t realize
what Streep is really up to until the final moments. But they are different as
well – as in the modern story, Streep doesn’t need rescuing.
For a movie like this to work, the performances are
key – and it’s hard to think of two better ones than the ones Streep and Irons
gives. This was Streep’s first lead role in a movie – she had already won the
Oscar for Kramer vs. Kramer (1979) (not to mention her other great performances
in films ranging from The Deer Hunter to Manhattan), and Irons was essentially
an unknown. But Reisz knew he had cast the roles correctly, and trusted them
both with a lot of heavy lifting – especially considering how much is left
unsaid.
From a technical standpoint, The French Lieutenant’s
Woman has all the trappings of a finely wrought Victorian romance – with
impeccable art direction by Assheton Gorton and Ann Mollo, brilliant costumes
by Tom Rand, a wonderful romantic score by Carl Davis, and striking cinematography
by the great Freddie Francis. The editing by Tom Rand is key as well – cutting
back and forth between the two stories that highlight the ways they are similar
– and different. We spend the majority of the time with the Victorian romance
however – and this is the correct choice. It is a story in which emotions and
truths are buried, lives are ruined, love and lust are dangerous things. The
modern story, by deliberate contrast, is much lower key – it’s simply two
people, both of whom are married, having an affair to pass the time on a movie
set, when they are away from their spouses. What connects them is the
seriousness with which the Irons characters take them – and how the Streep
character uses him.
In the Victorian story, Charles sees himself as some
sort of heroic rescuer of Sarah. When we meet him, he is getting engaged to
another woman – but when he sees Sarah out walking in a storm – he is drawn to
her. He will be drawn to her again and again, as she walks in the woods.
Everyone in town already knows Sarah’s story – she was used and abandoned by a
French Lieutenant, who washed up injured, and eventually recovered and left.
Sarah tells the story herself – how she pursued him, even after he left, how
she knows he will never return – but how she can never leave. Charles falls for
her – hard – and basically throws his good name, his fortune, his life away to
“save” her. It only becomes clear later what she was really doing – and perhaps
it never becomes an absolute.
This truly is one of Streep’s finest performances.
The most Oscar nominated actor in history, Streep is often terrific in not so
great movies – a function of the very basic fact that Hollywood doesn’t seem to
know how to build great movies around female characters, and the other fact
that Streep can sometimes suck all the oxygen out of a movie for herself –
making those around her seem foolish (see her amazing performances in The Devil
Wears Prada or Julie and Julia for examples). Here, though, Streep is
remarkably subtle – something she rarely is anymore – in playing these dual
roles. In both roles, she tells the Irons character precisely what she needs
him to hear, and nothing more. She is playing him, and he willingly plays
along. It’s understandable in the Victorian story – what other choice does she
have, as her only other option may well to become a prostitute in London, her
whole town already regarding her as a whore. Irons, who made quite a career for
himself in strangely erotic movies after this, ranging from Dead Ringers to
Damage to Lolita, which are all perverse in one way or another, just goes
along, willingly being suck deeper and deeper into her games.
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