El ángel vestía de rojo

Though far from perfect, I could watch this movie again, and perhaps even more than that. It's a fascinating movie, for one thing, pairing two of the most beautiful people who ever lived, in a story with real depth, or at least the promise of real depth, which says a lot in a world where 99 movies out of 100 don't even try. Imagine, complaining that at 37, Ava Gardner was "past her prime." It is wonderful to see Bogarde, whose roles usually had him sneering worldly-wise ironies, showing heartfelt passion for the good and the true. It is equally wonderful to see Gardner in a role far more suited for her than the calculating charmer or the tormented playgirl. She never seemed to be really trying until this one, where perhaps the part touched something deep in her. Their chemistry was superlative, their love scene one of the greats of all time, in my view.

That this portrayal of a love that goes beyond time and place occurs in the context of one of the most astonishingly wicked and absurd wars of all time is another sublimity that seems to have whizzed right by all but one of the previous reviewers. Hemingway showed only that Robert Jordan thought the war was absurd, he didn't show its absurdity, which director Nunnally Johnson managed to do here in both direction and dialog, and against great odds. Like another of my favorites, Viva Zapata, this movie is a flawed masterpiece, better by far than 100 polished banalities. Blame its flaws on the trials of filming in 1960 (still stuck in the 50s), on sloppy editing, on the meaningless title, and the inevitable hurdles that writers and directors have to overcome in the complicated and difficult art of film-making, truly daunting in the case of this film. (Imagine attempting to film a love story between a priest and a prostitute in 50s Sicily?!) Don't blame the the actors, the director, or the beautiful and poignant story.