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When a book has won the Booker Prize and the film that it spawned has taken Oscars, the casual reviewer could be tempted to conclude that almost everything has already been stated on its topic. Having just revisited the film right after quite a few years of absence, I decided to re-read the book. I don’t bear in mind how quite a few instances I have study it now: let’s call it several. I have observed the film at least six occasions.

Initially let it be said that the film, The English Patient, claims only to be based on Michael Ondaatje’s book. It is a film from the book, not of the book. The distinction is vital mainly because, despite the film’s admirable try to recreate the complexity of part of the novel, the book usually went significantly further.

In the book we have characters who have been scarred by war, by a war that none of them especially wanted to fight. I suppose there are occasional wars exactly where some of the participants want to be active. But right here Caravaggio just wanted to stay a thief and thus maintain his thumbs. And who would take more than thieving if he is drafted to fight? Probably Hana’s father actually did intend to see out the conflict and restart his prior life. Perhaps the English Patient, himself, did actually want to be English. I doubt it. Or possibly the concept, that of nationality, given war, was mere irrelevance. It was sides that folks counted.

He undoubtedly had considerably to hide, but from whom? What does it matter what side you claim to be on when it is only ever the innocent who fall victim? This final point is crucial to the feelings of Kip, the character who only just makes it into the film.

For in the book this Sikh sapper, this bomb disposal specialist, who risks his own life to defend others, is a complex anti-colonial thinker. He has a sense of justice that transcends victory, specifically when that victory is won at tremendous cost in the lives of those who did not fight.

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