The End of the Affair

Fans of British writer Graham Greene's densely textured, morally ambiguous and ironic novels will relish Neil Jordan's brilliant version of "The End of the Affair," Greene's most complex, most autobiographical, and arguably finest novel, previously brought to the screen unsatisfactorily by Edward Dmytryk in 1955.

Fans of British writer Graham Greene’s densely textured, morally ambiguous and ironic novels will relish Neil Jordan’s brilliant version of “The End of the Affair,” Greene’s most complex, most autobiographical, and arguably finest novel, previously brought to the screen unsatisfactorily by Edward Dmytryk in 1955. A faithful adaptation that captures the haunting spirit and religious nature of the 1951 novel, this erotic ghost story unfolds as a first-person account of the warped liaison between a selfish novelist and the adulterous wife of a civil servant, splendidly played by Ralph Fiennes, Julianne Moore and Stephen Rea, respectively. Strong critical support will be crucial for broadening the appeal of this ultraromantic period drama that, while a better film than “The English Patient,” lacks the epic scale that made Anthony Minghella’s Oscar winner such a B.O. hit.

With 12 pictures now under his belt, Jordan proves again that he is a supreme storyteller of complex human dramas, be they based on original scripts (“The Crying Game”) or literary adaptations (“The Butcher Boy”). In sharp opposition to other major writer-directors, it’s hard to separate Jordan the scripter from Jordan the filmmaker, for his best films (“The Miracle”) are informed by an alert intelligence that can transform a uniquely British historical romance, such as “End of the Affair,” into a highly cinematic, truly modern and universal experience.

A most personal novel by Greene, “End of the Affair” is subtler and more sympathetic in treating religious themes than his other spiritual novels. It also represents a change in his narrative strategy, telling the same events from multiple perspectives and punctuating the drama by an authorial voice that shifts from character to character, providing threads of an intriguing puzzle that viewers can fit into a coherent whole.

Indeed, pic’s greatest achievement is that it operates successfully on many levels: As a painful deconstruction of a tragic love affair; a mystical thriller with unorthodox twists and turns, and a big secret in the middle (recalling, albeit in a different way, the secret at the center of “Crying Game”); and as an undeniably religious drama about sin and redemption.

On the surface, the three individuals whose lives fatefully get entangled represent stereotypical characters in a noir melodrama of the ’40s, which is the movie’s time frame. A passionate woman trapped in a sterile marriage, Sarah Miles (Moore) falls for Maurice Bendrix (Fiennes), a handsome, young novelist, upon meeting him at a party given by her loyal but unexciting civil servant husband, Henry (Rea). Sarah and Bendrix begin an illicit, sexually liberating affair that lasts several years.

One of their steamy rendezvous occurs during the 1944 Blitz, when a bomb hits Bendrix’s house and he is severely injured. Thinking he is dead, Sarah prays to God to save his life and shortly thereafter inexplicably and without any signal breaks off their relationship.

Following the novel’s multilayered, fractured nature, the film begins in 1949, with the utterly bereft Bendrix at his typewriter, trying to understand what went wrong. “This is a diary of hate,” Bendrix states in his first-person narration. What ensues is a subtle, extremely moving chronicle of the end of Bendrix’s affair with Sarah, jumping back and forth between the summer of 1939, when they first met, to Sarah’s sudden death, seven years later.

On a rainy night in 1946, two years after the affair ended, Bendrix has a chance encounter with Henry. The depressed husband confides in Bendrix his suspicion that Sarah is having an extramarital affair. Bendrix’s obsession with Sarah is rekindled, and, succumbing to his jealousy, he arranges to have her followed by detective Parkis (Ian Hart) and his apprentice son, Lance (Samuel Bould).

Haunted by passionate memories of their affair, which form the bulk of the movie, Bendrix re-enters Sarah’s life, confronting once more the all-consuming love they had for each other. Soon, the loyal husband and jealous lover form a most peculiar and intimate bond, contributing to a triangle so sophisticated and mature as to rank with those in “Jules et Jim” and “The Woman Next Door.”

Jordan has omitted a number of characters, such as Sarah’s mother; created new episodes, like the lovers’ blissful trip to Brighton; and transposed attributes from one character to another, most notably giving a man’s crucial facial blemish to the detective’s son.

What’s extremely gratifying about the film is that Bendrix the narrator is involved in telling his story as he experiences it. Eschewing conventional techniques, Bendrix follows the track of his feelings and unravels a mystery through his subjective recollections as well as reading excerpts from Sarah’s journal, found by detective Parkis. Using the journal as a device allows Jordan to give Sarah her own voice and to present the events from her singular p.o.v.

As Bendrix experiences a traumatic crisis, Sarah undergoes a dramatic transformation from a stereotypically unfulfilled housewife to a holy person with healing powers. The film’s spiritual message becomes most explicit at the end, when the agnostic and egotistical Bendrix is forced to acknowledge the existence of God and the power of magic.

Technical credits are striking, most notably Roger Pratt’s carefully modulated lensing, Anthony Pratt’s authentic production design that’s packed with fascinating details and Sandy Powell’s accurately alluring period costumes. An excellent inside moment has Bendrix taking Sarah to a movie he’s had a hand in writing, and clip in question is from “21 Days,” a 1939 romantic drama starring Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier that was actually adapted by Greene.

In his most accomplished screen performance to date, Fiennes shines as the disenchanted, skeptical and hate-ridden novelist, who gropes his way toward faith and deeper comprehension of the meaning of love. Sporting a spot-on English accent as she did in “An Ideal Husband,” Moore also excels in revealing the depths of emotions of a woman who, after her mystical union with God, is blessed with miraculous powers, both physical and spiritual. Jordan regular Rea plays the civil servant in a dignified manner that defies stereotypical cliches in portraying a cuckolded husband. Remainder of the ensemble is equally good, especially Hart as the private eye, and Isaacs as the rationalist Father Smythe, Sarah’s confidante.

“End of the Affair” is arguably the finest screen adaptation of a Greene novel since Carol Reed’s seminal films, “The Fallen Idol” and “The Third Man.”

The End of the Affair


  • Production: A Sony Pictures Entertainment release of a Columbia Pictures presentation of a Stephen Woolley production. Produced by Stephen Woolley, Neil Jordan. Co-producer, Kathy Sykes. Directed, written by Neil Jordan, based on the novel by Graham Greene.
  • Crew: Camera (Technicolor), Roger Pratt; editor, Tony Lawson; music, Michael Nyman; production designer, Anthony Pratt; supervising art director, Chris Seagers; art directors, Jon Billington, Tony Woollard; set decorator, Joanne Woollard; costume designer, Sandy Powell; sound (Dolby/SDDS), David Stephenson; assistant director, Patrick Clayton; casting, Susie Figgis. Reviewed at a TriStar screening room, L.A., Nov. 11, 1999. MPAA Rating: R. Running time: 109 MIN.
  • With: Maurice Bendrix - Ralph Fiennes Sarah Miles - Julianne Moore Henry Miles - Stephen Rea Mr. Parkis - Ian Hart Lance Parkis - Samuel Bould Father Smythe - Jason Isaacs Mr. Savage - James Bolam Miss Smythe - Deborah Findlay