Pastures Greene
While plenty of Vietnam movies have focused on the horrors of war and the smell of napalm in the morning, few have documented the conflict's roots. Graham Greene's novel The 
Quiet American was published in 1955, a year after the final defeat of the French colonials at Dien Bien Phu, and it anticipated the escalation of US involvement in South-east Asia.
The novel contemptuously dissected the destructive but well-meaning blundering of an American government agent in Vietnam in the early 1950s; the work marked the beginning of Greene's reputation for anti-Americanism. But when Joseph Mankiewicz adapted the book for the big screen, his screenplay altered Green's prescient political critique to the extent that the author furiously dismissed the film as, "a propaganda piece for American policy in Vietnam". Greene's spirit can rest slightly easier now, with Phillip Noyce's more accurate portrayal of the source material.
The apparent anti-American slant adopted by The Quiet American, particularly concerning US foreign policy, was considered tricky after September 11 and gains further pertinence with the Iraq standoff. Set in 1952, the story opens with the body of the titular American being fished out of Saigon River. English journalist Thomas Fowler (Michael Caine) identifies the body of his "friend". Fowler's world-weary narration, in those imitable plummy tones, then rewinds the narrative several months to the arrival of Alden Pyle (Brendan Fraser).
Fowler, an erudite but disaffected middle-aged foreign correspondent, enjoys a pleasurable but unproductive existence with his beautiful Vietnamese mistress Phuong (Do Thi Hai Yen), a hostess some 30-years his junior. His routine involves people-watching from his favourite drinking haunts, the odd pipe of opium, and doing enough work to stop his employers recalling him to England, where he has a Catholic wife who won't divorce him.
He's rudely jolted from his complacency by the idealistic Pyle, an American mission aid worker, who hopes to make a difference in war-torn Vietnam, where the communists are fighting for independence from French colonial rule. At first Fowler observes the newcomer's zeal with detachment, initially observing, "a face with no history and no problems - the face we all had once". The two men become friends, despite their jarring ideologies - the cynical Brit comfortably settled in his neutral corner, "I am just a reporter, I never get involved" (in fact, he barely reports either); while the earnest yank asserts, "It's not that easy to remain uninvolved." One thing they share, however, is infatuation with Phuong.
Fowler candidly admits to Pyle that, "If I lost her, for me, it would be the beginning of death". Pyle covets Phuong as a sexual trophy and, in a metaphoric projection of his interventionist mentality, also believes he can save her: "I want to protect her," he says, mirroring the US attitude towards Vietnam: to take possession of it for its own good.
American policy at this point is to surreptitiously assist General Th้ (Quang Hai) and his breakaway army, who constitute a "third force", innocent of both colonialism and communism. Yet when Th้'s forces detonate a terrorist car bomb in Saigon Square ("30 dead. Probably 20 more by the morning"), using plastic explosives supplied by the CIA, it becomes clear this approach is tragically mistaken.
American critics roundly praised the movie upon its eventual release in the US, proving that Miramax's fears, although understandable, were largely unwarranted. As esteemed American movie critic Roger Ebert wrote: "It would be unfortunate if people went to the movie, or stayed away, because of its political beliefs. There is no longer much controversy about the CIA's hand in stirring the Vietnam pot."
Noyce hammers home Pyle's mistaken allegiance with a montage of articles written by Fowler on Indochina, from 1954 up to the Americans ill-fated incursion in the jungles of 'Nam; an unnecessarily heavy-handed touch, which implies that lackadaisical Fowler is transformed into a serious journalist through confronting Pyle.
Michael Caine, Oscar nominated for this role, excels as the weary but sophisticated expatriate, a heavy-lidded yet stately presence as he pads round Saigon in his rumpled white suit. It's an effortless performance that flashes with energy when Fowler is stirred from repose to passion. There's a great scene where he rampages through the American legation cursing Pyle for stealing his girl. "I know I'm behaving badly. This is exactly the sort of moment when one is entitled to behave badly" he exclaims in that unmistakable voice, and his performance comes alive.
Caine's almost equalled by Brendan Fraser, whose background in films like George and the Jungle, Beddazled and The Mummy series barely hint at this suave, measured turn. Fraser's affability works for the fresh-faced Ivy Leaguer whose mask crumbles at the end to reveal a coldly ideological functionary. Pyle has numerous lines that either foreshadow what America would get into in Vietnam, or comment on US foreign policy at large, hinting, "It's like a test run for us," and, "We're not colonialists".
Australian cinematographer Christopher Doyle, whose career has often placed him in Hong Kong and China, frames Vietnam like Coppola's Apocalypse Now, with dark interiors, blindingly white daytime streets and a humid, menacing countryside. It's a sumptuous-looking movie, balancing the western vision of vibrant, exotic Asia with a realistic sense of the 50s-era setting.
A thought-provoking look at how Western foreign policy - however well intentioned - can wreak havoc in other cultures.
-- Published by Untamed Travel magazine, 2002