The Quiet American (1958)

Set in Saigon in the early 1950s, it revolves around Fowler (Michael Redgrave), a middle-aged British journalist, his girlfriend Phuong (Giorgia Moll), and a young American that abruptly enters their lives (Audie Murphy.)

The American quickly falls for Phuong, is convinced he loves her and wants to marry her, but thinks it wouldn't be "fair" to make a play for her without informing Fowler. So he catches a flight, then drives through Communist-held roads at night to an outpost the French military brought journalists to, all so he can tell Fowler (and deliver a telegram.) He made it by borrowing a Red Cross jeep, confident that, of course, no one would shoot at a Red Cross jeep.

So as the American woos Phuong, Fowler steeps in bitterness that he's going to lose her one way or another. He's been promoted, but it requires moving back to London. His wife will not grant him a divorce. It's against her religion, and besides, he's waited so late in life she wouldn't be able to find anyone else at this stage, so fuck him, the selfish bastard (paraphrasing.)

My dad loaned me a book - I haven't read at the time I'm writing this - that apparently discusses government interference in the making of this movie, which resulted in more focus on the love triangle than the political aspects. Although, because it's framed from Fowler's point of view, we don't see much of the courting between Phuong and Pyle. So the romance is still almost in the background. Unlike in the book, Murphy isn't playing a CIA agent. He's an idealist, a believer in the idea the U.S. can help bring democracy and self-determination and security. In the same way that "uninvolved" is a word that comes up repeatedly with Fowler, usually in describing himself, "secure" is a word Pyle uses frequently. He wants Phuong to be able to feel secure and have a future, preferably with him.

There's not much focus on Phuong as an actual character. Pyle and Fowler have entire conversations about her, while she's in the room, as though she's not there. Pyle may actually love her, though, again, the lack of time they spend together on screen makes it seem more like she's a charity case. Someone he's going to save. Phuong tells Fowler that Pyle told her he loved her, was willing to let himself love her, unlike Fowler. Who knows if that was legit, but she believed it, for what that's worth. Fowler is using her as an escape from a life back in England he doesn't want. A solution to a mid-life crisis, that also keeps his apartment tidy. I thought she'd learn his duplicity from the letter Fowler's wife sent, because it would turn out Phuong's English had progressed far beyond what Fowler believed (Pyle was apparently working on it with her.) Instead her sister read the letter for her, which I guess could be a part of the safety net of family in the culture that Fowler didn't account for (but certainly should have expected, the sister was a presence he was well used to by then.)

But neither man really understands her, too caught up in their own visions. Pyle was shocked to learn Phuong was once a girl that you could pay to have dinner and dance with you if you went to a certain restaurant. It's something he needs to "save" her from, not recognizing that for Phuong, it was a way to make a living, to survive from day-to-day. Not something that she's ashamed of, just a necessity of her life. But he can't see outside his own upbringing and culture.

(This is a larger issue for Pyle, as he keeps pounding on the notion of "natural democracy" for the country, not recognizing most people in the country are more focused on keeping a roof over their head or food on their table, and don't have time to worry about what type of government controls the country.)

But Fowler treats her like a child. When Pyle tries to explain his feelings, with Fowler translating whatever Phuong can't follow in English into French - he says she and her people have no concept of "future." At least not the way Pyle means it, where he wants to give her a more secure future. Fowler attributes it to her being focused on that day-to-day necessities, but when he asks Phuong if she'd prefer to leave him and go somewhere else, she replies "never." Which, as Pyle notes, suggests she has some conception of the future after all. But that's not what Fowler wants from her. She cleans up after him, makes him feel smart, makes him feel like he's more than a drunken, cynical reporter running from his responsibilities. She's a crutch, but it only works like that as long as he can keep things as is.

If Pyle's guilty of falling into the line of thinking that every country would be improved by being more like the United States (more accurately, the fantasy version of the U.S., where all the ugly history is swept under the rug) and applying it to Phuong, Fowler's guilty of old European colonialist thinking, where Phuong is a resource best controlled and managed by him, because she can't take care of herself. That he benefits immensely is, of course, just a coincidence. 

I'm only a little ways into Graham Greene's book, but based on the introduction, Murphy's version of Pyle is pretty close to how Greene apparently saw Americans. That you can't hate them because they're 'innocent,' where innocent really stands for "ignorant." Murphy's version of the American is quick to introduce himself or speak with anyone about what he wants or hopes for. He's soft-spoken and polite, eager in an open, almost childish way. (Although the description of him as "quiet" in the book is meant to be a joke, or ironic. The only quiet American is a dead one, apparently.) 

He won't leave an injured man behind, even if that man tells him to. If asked for a cigarette, he'll offer the remainder of the pack. He's got a carton still at home, after all. He's generally polite, and talks a lot about being "fair," although that's based on his definition, and Fowler would no doubt feel what Pyle saw as fair was already tilted in his favor. He thinks capitalism's going to be a big help for the Vietnamese, to the point he's importing a bunch of plastic so they can manufacture toys and masks for Chinese New Year.

In the Michael Caine/Brendan Fraser version, and I assume the book, that's a cover for him bringing in plastique to be used in bombings. Here, that's what Fowler is led to believe is happening, and while he might find it appalling, he ultimately gets "involved", i.e, consigns Pyle to death, for a more personal reason. And it turns out he's been fooled. Pyle was what he appeared to be, and if he was indeed ignorant of the forces and cultures he was putting himself in the middle of, too blinded by his belief he could help people just by his good intentions, Fowler was no less a dope. For all his affected wisdom and experience, he got used by people he never suspected of ulterior motives.

Redgrave's version of Fowler isn't so old as Michael Caine's but he's more pitiful. Looks shabbier, looks more worn down and ragged. It seems as though he's already fallen a long time before the end of the film, when he's really left with nothing. My dad was trying to figure out why the French detective was, in-story, going to such pains to lay out all Fowler's mistakes, even taking him to see Phuong so Fowler could manage one final, spectacular faceplant. He was unconvinced by my French vs. British "national rivalry" theory. Nor was he impressed with my theory the detective has the intelligence resources to know Phuong's no longer available to Fowler, and dislikes the man enough to want to watch this last flameout up close and personal. To be fair, the detective doesn't look like he's enjoying watching Fowler humiliate himself, but he wouldn't be the first guy to enjoy a present more as a hypothetical than a reality.