“THE FRENCH LIEUTENANT’S WOMAN”  (1981; Directed by Karel Reisz)

(The Criterion Collection)

“PARALLEL OBSESSIONS”

By Raymond Benson

John Fowles’ 1969 novel, The French Lieutenant’s Woman, was a literary sensation, a best-seller, and a work deemed “impossible” to film because it broke conventions and played with narrative structure and point of view. And yet, there were several attempts in the 70s to adapt the difficult Victorian story to something cinematic. Apparently Dennis Potter took a shot at writing a screenplay at one point, but it was playwright Harold Pinter who cracked the problem and presented the tale of obsession, infidelity, and shame as two parallel stories—one in the Victorian past, as in the book, and one in the present, dealing with the actors making the film we’re watching. It was a unique and original approach to the material. With Karel Reisz at the helm, the film adaptation became a critically-acclaimed art house delight.

Reisz, a Czech director working in England, was at the forefront of the British New Wave of the 60s with such pictures as Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, Morgan!, and Isadora. He brilliantly realizes Pinter’s script with the help of the gorgeous cinematography by the great Freddie Francis and the superb performances by Meryl Streep and Jeremy Irons. It was Streep’s first starring role (she had previously held supporting parts and won her first Oscar for Supporting Actress for Kramer vs. Kramer) and it earned the actress her first Oscar nomination in the Leading Actress category. For many, especially in the U.S., this was the first time Irons was seen on the big screen (he had previously done much work for British television and had a small part in one feature film). Narratively, it’s Irons’ movie—he plays the protagonist—but it is definitely Streep, with her hauntingly quiet portrayal of Sarah, the fallen woman, who leaves an indelible mark.

The parallel stories follow illicit love affairs. In the present, actors Mike (Irons) and Anna (Streep) are making a movie called The French Lieutenant’s Woman. Both are married to other people, but they have an on-location affair while filming in West Dorset, England. Coincidentally, the characters they play in the movie—Charles and Sarah—have a scandalous affair in the same setting, but in the Victorian era. The point of the picture seems to be that nothing has changed since the late 19th Century in terms of morality, social mores, and how misplaced passion can wreck a life. Sarah is a mysterious outcast in the seaside town of Lyme Regis, the subject of much gossip as being the “French Lieutenant’s Whore,” i.e., she had an adulterous relationship with a married, visiting French soldier. Charles is a paleontologist working in the village; he is engaged to marry a well-to-do local girl, but he unwittingly becomes obsessed with Sarah. This, of course, leads to the man’s ruin. In both cases, the aftermath of the affairs leave devastations... or do they?

In Fowles’ novel, the consequences of Charles’ and Sarah’s affair is played out in three different endings. It is up to the reader to decide which is the most plausible—or morally acceptable. For the film, Pinter has twisted this conceit into the two analogous storylines with dissimilar outcomes. Very clever indeed. Perhaps Pinter’s script—which was nominated for an Adapted Screenplay Oscar—is the real star of the picture.

Besides the Oscar nods for Streep and Pinter, the film was nominated for Art Direction, Costume Design, and Film Editing.

Thought-provoking, moody, beautifully shot, brilliantly written, and exquisitely acted, The French Lieutenant’s Woman is ripe for rediscovery as an important piece of British cinema from the early 80s.

The Criterion Collection does its usual bang-up job with a new 2K digital restoration and an uncompressed monaural soundtrack. The images look marvelous. Reisz’s attention to detail in the period setting is a feast for the eyes.

Supplements include new interviews with Streep and Irons, editor John Bloom, and composer Carl Davis (whose score is evocative and sublime); a new interview with film scholar Ian Christie about the making and meaning of the film; an episode from The South Bank Show from 1981 featuring Reisz, Fowles, and Pinter; and the theatrical trailer. The essay in the booklet is by film scholar Lucy Bolton.

While Chariots of Fire may have taken the Oscar gold for 1981, for me the finest British picture that year was The French Lieutenant’s Woman. 

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