I love Somerset Maugham's novels, but they tend to be full of internal monologues and emotional and spiritual struggles that can be difficult to dramatize (his short stories make much better material for movies). THE PAINTED VEIL is a terrific book and a good read, veering from sexual melodrama to spiritual regeneration, full of psychological insight, tension and vivid descriptions of life in China during a cholera epidemic.
But this movie is just dreadful. It's dull, literal-minded and a travesty of a great story and promising concept. The credibility problems start (but don't end) with the fact that handsome Bill Travers was miscast as the cuckold. Tall and masculine with sensual features, a brooding sexiness, and a resonant, beautiful voice, it's absurd that we are expected to believe he is unappealing to Eleanor Parker. How can she not want to grab him and ride him ten ways from Sunday? I have often liked beautiful Eleanor Parker, but her archness here is hard to take and not what the part needs. The only bright spot is George Sanders, cast against type as a warm, sympathetic guy.
One thing I'm curious about is why Vincente Minnelli abandoned the project (his name appears nowhere in the final credits). Had he directed it (preferably in Technicolor) it might at least have been more enjoyable. Skip this dreary soap opera. Or if you see it and actually like it, read Somerset Maugham's novel, which is far better and certainly more entertaining.
But this movie is just dreadful. It's dull, literal-minded and a travesty of a great story and promising concept. The credibility problems start (but don't end) with the fact that handsome Bill Travers was miscast as the cuckold. Tall and masculine with sensual features, a brooding sexiness, and a resonant, beautiful voice, it's absurd that we are expected to believe he is unappealing to Eleanor Parker. How can she not want to grab him and ride him ten ways from Sunday? I have often liked beautiful Eleanor Parker, but her archness here is hard to take and not what the part needs. The only bright spot is George Sanders, cast against type as a warm, sympathetic guy.
One thing I'm curious about is why Vincente Minnelli abandoned the project (his name appears nowhere in the final credits). Had he directed it (preferably in Technicolor) it might at least have been more enjoyable. Skip this dreary soap opera. Or if you see it and actually like it, read Somerset Maugham's novel, which is far better and certainly more entertaining.