A key premise of Orson Welles' enduring Citizen Kane is that its
protagonist might have become a truly great man if he hadn't been so rich. At
the same time, the film demands that we not judge Charles Foster Kane's
original acceptance of his vast fortune. Who could have refused? Ian Softley's
sensuous and sumptuous The Wings of the Dove wrestles with a comparable
issue. Who doesn't crave the security of material wealth? And yet, how often
does pursuit of money wreck our nobler, more closely held ambitions.
Adapted by screenwriter Hossein Amini from Henry James' 1902 novel, The
Wings of the Dove is the story of Kate Croy (Helena Bonham Carter), a
lower-middle-class London girl who has the chance to escape her circumstances
when she's taken in by her maternal Aunt Maude (Charlotte Rampling) after the
death of her mother. Maude is a cold aristocrat who despises Kate's father
(Michael Gambon) for dragging her sister into poverty. Maude's conditions for
taking Kate under her wing include a small stipend for Kate's father and the
requirement that father and daughter break off all contact. Moreover, Maude is
determined to see Kate married to a man of means. And to that end, she forbids
Kate to continue keeping company with the man Kate loves, common journalist
Merton Densher (Linus Roache). Kate tries to have it both ways, agreeing to
Maude's demands but sneaking out for trysts with Merton and visits with her
father.

The tragic triangle of Millie (Alison Elliott), Kate (Helena Bonham Carter)
and Merton (Linus Roache) makes The Wings of the Dove an unforgettable
film.
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Enter beautiful, frail, fabulously wealthy Millie Theale (Alison Elliott), an
American on extended holiday in Europe. Kate and Millie are kindred spirits and
quickly become fast friends. They are both free-spirited and open-minded in an
age when women are supposed to be homemakers and childbearers. But whereas Kate
is hardy and resilient, Millie is dying. Her European sojourn is a race against
death, a determined effort to fill herself with experience and hold back the
ravages of her body through the exercise of pure will.
The fateful intertwining of Kate's and Millie's futures happens when Maude
learns of Kate's continuing involvement with Merton and threatens to cut her
off. Faced with an unwanted choice between love and wealth, Kate attempts to
orchestrate a union between Merton and Millie. If Merton can inherit Millie's
fortune, then Kate can have both love and money after Millie's death.
Distasteful as the plot seems on its face, it is fraught with artfully
complicated elements. Kate's caring for Millie is genuine, and she hopes that
Merton's attentions will bring Millie a measure of joy in her dying days.
Kate's motives are not altogether selfish in other ways as well. Maude has
threatened to leave Kate's father penniless if Kate does not sever her
relationship with Merton.
There are a couple of missteps here. Nobody explains how a salaried employee
like Merton can take leave of his newspaper job and afford to accompany Kate
and Millie on an open-ended visit to Venice. In fact, if he has enough money
for that, we wonder if Kate isn't just outright greedy. Elsewhere, Kate's
decision to let the odious Lord Mark (Alex Jennings) in on the details of her
scheme doesn't wash. Her stated reason is plenty powerful, but that reason is
not served by her action.
For the most part, though, this is a masterful production. Amini and Softley's
reshaping of James' story to focus on Kate instead of Millie allows the
filmmakers to heighten the tragedy for all involved. Kate's character emerges
in this version as more complicated and more human. She is not a vile person.
Her concern for her father is sincere, and her willingness to sacrifice to
protect him is admirable.
Still, Kate is foolish and unintentionally cruel, of course, in believing that
she can so easily play games with the human heart -- Millie's in the first,
most blatant instance, but Merton's and her own as well. Softley stages the
seduction of Merton at a masked ball in Venice, and its atmosphere of
recklessness, deception and danger is perfect. As Kate spills out her infamous
proposal, a bright moon lights her eyes with the lunacy of a demon.
The three principal players are magnificent, particularly the women. It's nice
to see Carter play a role with greater edge than she's enjoyed in her other
high-profile costume dramas, A Room With a View and Howard's End.
Her striking nude scene is all the more impressive for establishing and
sustaining her climactic defenselessness. Elliott, meanwhile, is nothing less
than sensational. She affects you so strongly that you want to rush onto the
screen and spirit her away to our own time, when modern medicine could save
her. Her vulnerability makes you weep. You want to embrace and hold her and
breathe life back into her exhausted frame. And yet the majesty of the
achievement here is that you wish no vengeance on Kate and Merton that they
don't bring upon themselves. The Wings of the Dove leaves you hurting
for them all.