After a precipitous critical decline that touched bottom when Ted Morgan’s bio came out, Somerset Maugham’s literary rep has recently seen modest recovery. And who hasn’t fallen for this late book, one of the all time great reads. This film version remains studio bound & mostly irredeemable, yet Maugham’s churning story of misdirected love, personal treachery, & spiritual awakening survives as irresistible film entertainment at some level. It’s intensely watchable. Tyrone Power gets dramatic mileage out his fading bloom (he came back from WWII minus the sparkle) and Anne Baxter got Oscar’d keeping her sad role relatively dry-eyed. The rest of the big cast all fine, but only Clifton Webb (all flags flying) lives up to your dreams among the many parts that beg for role-of-a-lifetime casting. Two decades back this would have been just the thing for, say, Di Caprio, Drew Barrymore & Bill Murray in for Power, Baxter & Webb. (Who’s right now?) Hard to believe Murray took the lead in the 1984 vanity production he co-wrote for himself.
READ ALL ABOUT IT: Generally, RAAI tries to draw attention to a publication not directly connected with the film. Not this time. Do yourself a favor, read Maugham's final masterpiece. You'll be clamoring for a decent film version, too.
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