All love is powerful, Hollywood has long exploited this. It sells this particular strain by the bucketload: a romantic love that knows no bounds and is limited by no earthly constraints.

The English Patient is one of the most perfect expressions of this kind of love. This man (Almásy, played by Ralph Fiennes) and woman (Katharine Clifton, played by Kristin Scott Thomas) find themselves in a situation which needs no further complication. She is married to another, WWII is breaking out around them and they spend most of their time in crocked vehicles with dwindling water supplies in the deepest of deserts hoping that they will be rescued sooner rather than too late.

But they do fall in love. That much you can see from the poster. It is as if Jane Austen and Rudolf Valentino collided, creating something new, but old. Somehow, innocence and good sense had been left out of the mix. Our two protagonists show neither of these qualities in any great abundance and as a result the fireworks fly, a marriage implodes and the devil may care. 

I can't say that I warmed to either one of them- but that doesn't seem to matter to me. Both are rich- he is a count, she is landed gentry. Both have lives of excess and folly, champagne camping trips, events in evening dresses and tuxedos, but also manage to take themselves terribly seriously. They are not used to having to earn anything, to having to wait for what they want. If it weren't for the fact that she falls for him, that the feelings are mutual, you are left with little doubt that his sense of entitlement to her by virtue of the fact that he loves her utterly and completely would not just be creepy (as it sometimes comes across), but dangerous. He has little compunction in letting her know that he has rights to her, that she should relent, and she does.

His somewhat single minded view of how she should spend her time is, fortunately, shared. His willingness to do anything to see her again leads him to provide maps to Rommel's Nazi desert troops enabling a massacre of thousands. All in the name of his love for her.

​However, this portrait of a love which leaves a trail of destruction across North Africa is countered by another tale woven into the film, a tale of two simpler people who seek nothing material (Naveen Andrews plays Kip, Juliette Binoche as Hana). Their love hurts no one, but hanging above them is an ever approaching double-bladed sword of Damocles: everyone she loves dies, and he is a bomb disposal expert who spends his days defusing booby traps and unexploded ordinance. 

​The English Patient is sumptuously shot. To make it this far into a review without mentioning this, or comparing it to Lawrence of Arabia (as lazy as it may seem, with both set in the desert) is absurd. But it is to the film's credit that the beauty is complementary, not central. The power of this film lies in the worlds created by the director (Anthony Minghella): utterly convincing. You willingness to believe is enhanced by the central performances, the intimacy between Fiennes & Scott Thomas is particularly striking. 

There is so much going for this movie, and it stood out so considerably from the other films of the mid nineties, I can understand why when it came to voting for 'Best Picture' the members of the Academy would have thought to themselves that this had the edge, and posted their ballot accordingly. It distils Hollywood's obsession for (and vision of) love so well that it doesn't even need you to like the characters very much in order to admire the depth of feeling they have for each other and enjoy this movie-going experience. 

​So, both couples find their worlds shaken and shaped by love and death, and spend much of their time transcending both. It is well worth watching it happen. This was worth revisiting.

An important note on the matter of size
​If you get the chance, this is really one for a very big screen. We are lucky that these days most of us have a 40-odd inch screen in their home, but being immersed in this film, to physically look up to it, is where it is at. To feel the music, to become part of the world that is Minghella's creation is worth a cinema ticket. If you can't, although there is plenty to take from watching it scaled down, the epic nature of a film like this will most likely be lost in translation to the small screen. Enjoyable in both settings, but I recommend an outing for this one more than most. 

As the film begins, with its palette of warm colours and the soft sounds of that unmistakable theme, it was not long before I settled into the mood. This is no accident.

The direction from Bruce Beresford, although on the surface fairly unadventurous, contains some subtle successes. This film is set in Atlanta, Georgia, in one of the 'cotton states' or ‘the deep south’. The suggestion of the accompanying heat is entirely successful, with no need for anyone to mention it or mop their brow, or even lingering shots of ceiling fans. Beresford does two things simultaneously: we (the viewer, through camera placement) are placed in the shade from the opening shot; everywhere we look the refuge of shade is available. Interiors are shot in very low, natural light, which allowed us to feel protected from the stifling heat. Combining this with the soft focus and nostalgic feel took me back to my childhood holidays in the summer heat in Spain when we would shut out the sun to keep the heat at bay. The sense of nostalgia enhanced my viewing comfort. I may never have been to the Southern States of America, but was being told 'you know what it was like, and it felt good'. Call me a sucker, but this worked. For now.
 
The chemistry between the three principals (Jessica Tandy, Morgan Freeman and Dan Ackroyd) is pitch perfect. Although each character is heavily leaning towards stereotypes their edges were greatly softened by the depth in quality of the performances. This was a low budget picture based on an off-broadway play, the whole production cost under $8m (blockbusters typically set studios back $25m-$40m at the time) and it relied heavily on the actors, much like any three handed play would. This was Freeman’s breakthrough movie, Tandy (incidentally born not far from my home in north London) had been honing her talent as a character actor in similar roles, successfully, for years (Batteries Not Included, Coccoon and others). This was a rare chance to take the lead in a script based on a pulitzer prize winning play (1988) no less and her shoulders on that slender frame were more than ample enough to take the weight. She barely broke a sweat.

The titular Miss Daisy is an elderly Jewish woman who after crashing her Cadillac pulling out of the driveway is unable to get behind the wheel again. Her son Boolie (Ackroyd) employs elderly African American chauffer, Hoke (Freeman), to drive her. Hoke’s gentle but persuasive manner wins out over her stubbornness over the course of the film and in the process barriers of race and class become less important to them.

So on to the more troubling aspect- the issue of race. Miss Daisy is rich and Jewish, Hoke is African American and comparitively poor. This offers no challenge to the status quo of the American South of the 1960’s when segregation was the order of the day nor does it oppose the simplistic stereotypes of rich Jew, poor black. It is a film based on a play based on a true story, and it is not that I suggest that every film in this setting should offer up resistance, but here is where I return to the success of creating a warm nostalgic feel that is, in effect, celebrating the age. This is a concept I am very familiar with. Having had grandparents of a similar class to Miss Daisy (albeit in Spain) who had maids, a chauffer a dressmaker and other staff I recognise the relationships portrayed and the similar curt attitude taken by the employer. It never sat well with me and watching this film brought that unease back, no doubt wholly unintentionally. However, I do not think anyone else will be immune to this unease.
 
There are a number of devices used to soften this nagging disquiet. Miss Daisy tries to rubbish Hoke’s assertion that she is rich, explaining that she has lived through poverty of the worst kind. “But you doing alright now, aintcha?” Hoke retorts. Also, in a sense, both characters would be considered to be from ethnic minorities in Georgia, where the film is set.

This is emphasized by a scene in which the highway patrol question them, having racially profiled Hoke as he stood by the car apparently alone (having not yet seen Miss Daisy). After having examined their license and registration to ascertain all was in order, established that she was Jewish, and allowing them to pull away you hear one officer remark to the other “An old nigger and an old Jew woman taking off down the road together. That is one sorry sight”. This immediately elicits sympathy from the audience for Miss Daisy, despite her most endearing moments so far being her cruel but humorous wit.
Finally the film’s true nature surfaces- her temple is bombed and this scene is quickly followed by Hoke recounting a tale of how he found a friend's father hanging from a tree, tying their status’ together as targets for the racial hatred that pervaded.​

​So although there is no overt challenge to the way things were, beyond disapproval, this movie is intended as a snapshot into how in such a hostile environment there can exist personal connections which transcend the boundaries that society lays down. I must say, it is difficult to untangle the good intentions from the stereotypes in this movie (including Miss Daisy’s housekeeper being little more than a chicken eating ‘Mammy Archetype’). We learn almost nothing of the personal life of Hoke, never seeing his home, meeting his family or friends.

​It is a sympathetic story, but told from the white character's perspective, a perspective that apparently has no interest in finding any more out about Hoke beyond what he does for his white employers. As well made and acted as this picture is, it does not quite do enough to escape that awareness bestowed upon us over the last 30 years. Re watching it has suggested to me that we have come a fair distance if this was considered to be a film to undermine racial tensions. I believe it to be more a film to make a certain section of white American society feel better about themselves for interacting in a civilised manner with people of other races, which really should be a given.