The Quiet American

The Quiet American is a nice bit of minimalist spin on American involvement in Viet Nam prior to our invasion of that country. What’s disappointing is all that is left untouched, and all that is simplified to the point of a plot requiring only an assassination and some clarity over the use of barrels of a chemical agent. Very Schwarzenegger. Except that every hero’s heroism is undermined in this flick; no one stands a chance of being honest or faithful; it’s a naturalistic flick in which one’s natural (by which I mean ‘the law of the jungle’) rivals can be one’s civilized friends, simply because no one has a romantic’s level of self-respect, dignity, or consistent commitment to any ideal. Why not pal around with the man candidly trying to steal your lover away in front of you? A degenerate can be anyone’s friend. If you’ve no basic criteria for self-respect, no basic boundaries to which you are willing to give your life, fortune, and sacred honor, you can’t bloody well demand decent treatment from your associates. This is a demoralized series of character studies for the degenerate naturalist. Even the soundtrack is mercilessly relentless on this theme. Unfortunately, too, it seems enough in contemporary film for young, thin Asian actresses to be pretty, lithe, and… well… Asian. Helplessness doesn’t hurt, either; the need to be rescued is irresistable. The object of desire for the two male anti-heroes in this film is all of those things.

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