The Painted Veil presents a story of redemption in such a captivating and gorgeous way that its scenes and characters all too easily take up residence in the mind, quietly, only to reassert themselves at odd intervals with a surprising insistence, causing a mood of reflection that while not unwelcome is nevertheless often distracting to whatever task is at hand.
It is a rich film, adapted from the novel of the same name by Somerset Maugham. (1) Like any great story, there could be any number of ways to approach it. One of the more obvious avenues is through place and travel. As Kitty, the main protagonist, moves from London to Shanghai and finally to a remote Chinese village, she is stripped of the social conventions and artifice through which she had previously related to the world, and is forced to negotiate a new and more authentic understanding of herself and her relations to others.
The story opens with a hopeless Kitty being carried (literally) away from Shanghai to the remote, Chinese interior. As though illustrating the memories on which she must be brooding, a series of flashbacks intermittently cut with stunningly shot scenes of Kitty and her husband Walter’s journey through the country side, tell the story of Kitty’s movement through the first two places: London and Shanghai.
Kitty is an eligible, but discontented, young society woman. Her very first scene in London follows her drifting through a party of the high London society with a bored, if not disgusted, look on her face. As two older women catch her eye, she effortlessly beams a radiant smile at them and exchanges a pleasantry in passing, only to return to her discontented look the instant her face is turned away. She is thus introduced as creature of society, able to affect a proper tone and manner at will, and to veil her inner self from others – and, one thinks, from herself as well.
But London, the capital of the British Empire and the very definition of “civilization,” is oppressive to Kitty. Her overbearing mother presses her to marry. After overhearing her mother complaining about Kitty’s irresponsibility, she accepts an offer of marriage from Walter Fane, a shy government employed scientist stationed in Shanghai and specializing in infectious diseases, for the sole purpose of relocating as far away from London and her mother as possible.
Though she attempts to escape the social expectations of society in London, she finds that the colony of British ambassadors and civil servants in Shanghai is little better. Perhaps it is worse, for though she seemed to scorn London, at the same time she prides herself that this “Shanghai set” wouldn’t be worthy of dining at her mother’s house back in London.
Finding no joy with Walter, who shows no interest in entertainment but is completely absorbed in his work, she begins an affair with Charlie Townsend, a witty civil servant. The dashing Charlie seems perfectly suited to Kitty, possessing a social grace and ease which is completely lacking in Walter. Indeed, men like Charlie must have been plentiful in London, but one must surmise that being isolated in Shanghai among an inferior set made him much more attractive to Kitty.
She betrays an inconsistent, and ultimately self-centered, character. She would flaunt social moors (by having an affair), but immediately fall back on social conventions as a safety net when her infidelity is uncovered. She appeals to Walter for a quiet divorce, “as a gentleman would do.” It is here that society fails her utterly or traps her completely, depending on the point of view. Charlie Townsend will not scandalize himself to marry her, and Walter will not be the “gentleman” and give her a quiet divorce. Instead, out of anger and spite, he accepts a position in a remote village to fight a cholera outbreak and gives her the choice of accompanying him, or a very public and humiliating divorce. Evidently fearing scandal more than cholera, she joins Walter.
Kitty and Walter both are broken and hopeless on their arrival to the village. Both march to the village knowing they will not likely return: Walter is driven by vengeance and anger, Kitty by hopeless misery. Their evidently suicidal intent is underscored by their mutual refusal to be inoculated against the disease (though it is an imperfect precaution in the first place, the film points out.) Their cold relations toward each other are played out in silent, icy stares and in one scene they engage in a deadly brinksmanship over dinner – daring to eat uncooked vegatables and thereby risking cholera.
In the village they must face each other – and face themselves – naked, as it were, stripped of the veils and masks which so often obscure true thoughts, feelings and character.
As Walter, probably to avoid Kitty, immerses himself in his work, he becomes more personally invested in it. What began as a cruel way to punish his unfaithful wife becomes a noble endeavor to save the poor of the village from further suffering. We see his increasing care for the people. The ultimate recognition of his sincerity is the respect he gains from Colonel Yu, a Chinese military officer sympathetic to the revolution and skeptical of foreigners. “I didn’t come to China with a gun,” says Walter. “I came with a microscope.” “I believe you,” replies Yu.
However noble he has become in his work, Walter still is cold to Kitty. She is isolated from the village in the house they share. It is not until she herself enters the village, largely out of desperate frustration and boredom, and associates herself with a Catholic orphanage run by a small convent that she, too, is slowly drawn beyond her own suffering and into compassion for others. She also becomes aware of Walter’s good reputation. She sees him anew, and not through the lens of the society from which they came, but through the eyes of those he is helping. His reserve, lack of social grace, and disinterestedness in light entertainment, so vexing to her in Shanghai, become unimportant next to the compassion and good will he has for the villagers.
Thus begins a second courtship, this one initiated by Kitty. This time, the relationship that she seeks is not socially calculated – as the first one was. It is not an escape from something oppressive, but rather a sincere respect for her husband that draws her toward him now. Walter rebuffs her overtures, however, until he becomes aware that she, too, has entered the village. In one scene, Walter is surprised to find his wife assisting the orphanage, and his eyes linger on her as though piecing a puzzle together. Or as though he finally sees her with fresh eyes, free from the social masks and calculations.
It is important to note, however, that it is not just that they each gain a fresh vision of each other, seeing and appreciating characteristics that were present in them all along. It is also – and this is important – that there is something new to be seen in each of them. Their experiences in the village shape them in ways which is impossible to imagine had they remained in the city. Polite society tries very hard not to deal with the unpleasantness of suffering and death. Civilized society hides these things away and tends to acknowledge them only in the abstract. But in the village, cholera is impossible to avoid. Suffering and death are ubiquitous. The tragedy of Walter’s death so soon after their new-found love dramatizes how greatly changed these characters are. Walter accepts Kitty as his nurse – something that would have been inconceivable to him just several months before – and Kitty sees him through to the end of his suffering.
The last scene of the film takes place some seven or eight years later. Kitty happens to run into Charlie, her old lover from Shanghai. She declines his overture with such finality and firmness that there can be no doubt of her completely changed character. The lessons learned apart from the city and society can and must be brought back into the city to achieve an integrated life. While this last scene may appear to some as something of an awkward appendage at the end of the movie, it illustrates the necessary return to society and the possibility of living an authentic life within society.
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1. The title of the novel comes from a sonnet by Percy Shelley:
“The painted Veil”
Percy Shelley
Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread, — behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o’er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it — he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas ! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.
