In Near Ruins
If you haven't seen Anthony Minghella's "The English Patient" (1996), then you better find a copy. The British filmmaker died on March 18, 2008. He was 54. He had a short body of work, but his adaptation of Michael Ondaatje's award-winning novel would be his most memorable. No, make it his best. Perhaps you have to read the book as well.
"The English Patient" is like an old painting. It would be hard to ignore it. The image has a story, but you can only guess. What is certain is the glorious setting, or so you think.
The villa
"He whispers again, dragging the listening heart of the young nurse beside him to wherever his mind is, into that well of memory he kept plunging into during those months before he died."
Male readers will surely love Ondaatje's tale, which is set in Florence during the final days of World War II. The characters are the least-likely people you expect to go to far places. But the war did. They have exploits to tell. The titular character is burnt all over. Morphine is his relief, but it's his memories of the war that keeps him awake at night.
The villa has been set up as a hospital, partly damaged by the bombings. It's a place of cultural significance. (Florence is the hotbed of the Renaissance movement.) The dying patient may not be able to see the frescoes, of what is left after the war, but he can sense it. Hana, his nurse, believes he's an Englishman. He can't tell, even remember. He's Count Ladislaus de Almásy, a Hungarian adventurer who has been part of Britain's desert exploration in Northern Africa.
The count only recalled a woman whom he once loved, who bewitched him after she read a passage from Herodotus' book. Ondaatje's tale examined people with proscribed sexualities, which shouldn't make the readers scratch their heads. (Let's not forget that the works by the Renaissance artists are a feast for the senses.) Almásy was an anonymous figure in the villa, but his story state didn't elicit pity from Hana or anyone who have met him. They admired him, wishing he would live.
The disfigured face of the Englishman would have an effect on the nurse and the others who have been in the villa. They were also displaced, and it wasn't a coincidence. (Take note that Hana read aloud the books to the count, about adventurous souls in faraway locations.) The novel will make readers wanting more. Ondaatje's lyrical description of the villa - and Northern Africa - will inspire readers. After all, the war prompted many people to do great feats. It would put traveling on a proper perspective, which wasn't a choice of lifestyle. Alas, the world became uneventful.
