"The Triumph of Love" doesn't triumph over anything. It is a plodding, ponderous, 4 hours of torture. Actually it's a little less than 2 hours long, it just seemed much longer. It pains me to even think about the amateurish performances of such fine actors as Ben Kingsley and Fiona Shaw. The supporting players are not quite as awful. Maybe they were trying to be so over the top, so as to be clownish, but, if so, I didn't see it that way. Mira Sorvino doesn't make an impression one way or the other. She(he)'s just there. My guess is, the play of the same name, written by Marivaux some 270 or so years ago, is much better. It couldn't be any worse. Clare Peploe, the writer and director of this movie, was inspired by a recent production of the play. I don't know what she was thinking when she created this bomb.
Maybe it all got lost in the translation.
Maybe it all got lost in the translation.