Saigon, 1952, a beautiful, exotic, and mysterious city caught in the grips of the Vietnamese war of liberation from the French colonial powers. New arrival Alden Pyle (Brendan Fraser), an idealistic American aid worker, befriends London Times correspondent Thomas Fowler (Michael Caine). When Fowler introduces Pyle to his beautiful young Vietnamese mistress Phuong (Hai Yen) the three become swept up in a tempestuous love triangle that leads to a series of startling revelations and finally - murder. Nothing, and no one, is as it seems, in this adaptation of Graham Greene's classic and prophetic story of love, betrayal, murder and the origin of the American war in Southeast Asia. [TRAILER]


STEVEN SNYDER'S REVIEW

Strip away its frills, and “The Quiet American” is about two, stubborn men who enjoy the notion that they are important.

Both live in Vietnam in the early 1950’s, always aware of the war between the French and Vietnamese looming in the distance. Alden Pyle (Brendan Fraser) is a young American doctor, in Vietnam to help soldiers with an eye disorder. Thomas Fowler (Michael Caine) is an aging British journalist, covering the war for a London newspaper.

Their lives lead them to interesting places. Pyle works closely with the American embassy and with a rising third power in the region – a new leader who promises to beat back both the French and the communists. Fowler finds himself venturing into North Vietnam, covering scenes of carnage and bloodshed, and snooping around docks that have been importing ton after ton of a strange plastic.

Their unquenchable desire for importance does not stop with their professions. As in all great thrillers, there is a woman, Phuong (Do Thi Hai Yen).

She is a young dance girl, decades younger than Fowler, but she lives with him and loves him because he provides for her. He is married to a woman back in London, but Phuong tells him all the things he truly wants to hear. With her, he can believe is youthful and attractive again. He is important and special. And with him, she feels save from the poverty that has struck so many Vietnamese women.

That is, until Pyle arrives. As they meet, dance and talk, Pyle falls in love with Phuong, and thus a vicious romantic triangle is formed that will ultimately turn bloody.

I have not given anything away, I assure you. Within five minutes of the opening credits, it has been established that Pyle is dead, assassinated in the dark. The fun of “The Quiet American” is found in working backwards through flashback; in watching how the obvious struggle over Phuong slowly turns Fowler and Pyle against one another.

Others have incorrectly emphasized the importance of the film’s politics. While war in Vietnam and the politics of America’s entry into the conflict are always working behind the scenes, the real drama of this film is found with its unique and complex characters.

Fowler and Pyle’s professions provide the scenarios with which we become engrossed in their interactions. For instance, Fowler’s journey to North Korea gives both men their first opportunity to talk openly about Phuong’s love. Later, Fowler’s attempt to interview the leader of the rising opposition leaves Fowler and Pyle stranded together one night in enemy territory.
It is in these moments where they interact in ways a conventional story could never facilitate. As the war swirls around them, they confide in each other, even embrace one another, but continue to view the other as competition for Phuong’s persuadable affections.

I must admit that this film flooded my mind with characters so rich and believable that I started to think of them as real human beings. Phuong is the delicate woman, willing to be used because she has no other options. Pyle is the rigid, but polite man whose only fault appears to be an excessive level of idealism. And Fowler is a man who is clinging to one last chance for happiness, and knows it. To lose Phuong, he says at one point, “would be the beginning of death.”

There are two twists, which I will not divulge, that spin “The Quiet American” on its head. In the first, events cause Fowler to have an emotional breakdown. He has lost control of himself, and is truly a man on the brink. In the other twist, the war that has forever passed unnoticed in the background suddenly thrusts itself into the story, and offers Fowler the tempting proposition of reclaiming all he’s ever wanted.

And this is where the film’s opening sequence, revealing Pyle’s death early on, becomes important. In a normal film, Pyle’s fate would be uncertain, and as Fowler is pushed to the extreme, we would wonder what is going to happen. But in “The Quiet American,” we already know who lives and who dies.

This creates an unusual emotional vortex, where we are not focused intently on what is coming in the future, but on what is occurring in the present. Temptation, anger and rage suddenly become our paramount concern, wondering not how the story will end, but what decisions and actions will take these characters to their predestined fate.

A film so much about characters lives and dies by its acting. Fraser, as Pyle, finds the balance between polite and irritating, always seeming to be in the perfect place at the perfect time. Caine gives the best performance of his career, embodying the melancholy of a man who senses his time has past, but clings to what he has with everything he’s got.

During the opening credits, Fowler speaks of Vietnam, and how it will provide almost anything in exchange for a man’s soul. “The Quiet American’s” shockingly cynical conclusion – a dark epilogue in which Fowler’s every temptation and desire has been fulfilled – proves him right.
Who would have imagined that such a quiet film could speak so loudly.





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