Hemingway’s Worst Novel Is Now a Slightly Better Movie

As a movie enthusiast who has spent countless hours immersed in the works of literary giants, I must confess that my heart skipped a beat upon hearing about the adaptation of “Across the River and Into the Trees.” Ernest Hemingway’s prose, though sometimes problematic, holds a special place in my literary journey.

In the film “Across the River and Into the Trees”, Liev Schreiber – an actor I’d never associate with Ernest Hemingway – has been transformed to suggest, though not perfectly replicate, the iconic American author. With his broad face, white beard, somber eyes, and a chest that seems both barrel-shaped and hollowed out, the actor imbues the role of the weary Colonel Richard Cantwell, an American veteran of two world wars, who is aimlessly drifting through postwar Venice. Despite being a tough old soldier, Cantwell appears more interested in discussing art and literature than war and expansion – or indeed, duck hunting, an activity he claims to look forward to during his stay in Venice, yet shows little enthusiasm for.

In this film, there’s a profound connection between the author and the main character that feels genuine. The character of Cantwell was inspired by several individuals, yet he bears striking autobiographical resemblances to Hemingway, both poignantly touching and ominously prescient. Interestingly, about a decade after the novel’s release in 1950, Hemingway took his life in a manner similar to Cantwell’s portrayal at the book’s end, lending the character’s profound sadness an emotionally charged historical significance. This tragic parallel mirrors an element that pervades much of Hemingway’s work, as it was foreshadowed by his own father’s actions.

One doesn’t need to know all this to understand or appreciate Paula Ortiz’s film of Across the River and Into the Trees, which takes Hemingway’s ambling, memory-inflected tale and fashions it into a melancholy love story, focusing largely on Cantwell’s romantic conversations and wanderings through Venice with a young, questioning countess, Renata, played by Matilda De Angelis. But in so doing, Ortiz (and screenwriter Peter Flannery) remove what made the novel, for all its massive flaws, unique. The book is built around Cantwell’s memories, as expressed through his own fleeting flashbacks and his interactions with Renata. In these moments he speaks not just of his own life but of any number of things: authors, art, alcohol, battles, generals, the relative quality of French soldiers, the need to forgive your enemies. And it’s all rendered in language of almost unbearable simplicity — even for Hemingway — perhaps in an effort to evoke the cultural differences between the weary American and the young Italian.

Ortiz and Flannery chose to use more conversational dialogue instead of extensive memory-play in their adaptation, as it might seem unrealistic or dull. However, they include a few significant flashbacks from a violent forest encounter between Cantwell’s troops and the enemy during wartime. This choice makes artistic sense, but the result is less intense compared to works like Richard Linklater’s Before films, which had improvisational energy that added urgency and emotion. In simpler terms, they opted for everyday conversation instead of extensive memory scenes, resulting in a film that feels more like a casual conversation than the emotionally charged works of Richard Linklater.

Ortiz’s film possesses certain enchanting qualities. The captivating Venice settings are portrayed with their nighttime allure preserved, enabling viewers to envision beyond the screen’s boundaries due to the use of intriguing shadows and rich colors. De Angelis radiates — distinguished Spanish cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe juxtaposes the smooth, radiant elegance of her features against Schreiber’s rugged, war-torn visage — and the actress effectively embodies Renata, a character who in the novel symbolizes both emotional healing and death. The filmmakers also provide De Angelis with meaningful actions, as she initially offers Schreiber a ride in her gondola. Schreiber, undeniably captivating to watch, continues to intrigue us even as prominent roles appear scarce. It’s delightful to observe him once again leading a movie.

This novel, “Across the River and Into the Trees,” was met with harsh criticism upon its release, and although its standing has improved somewhat since then due to some of Hemingway’s other posthumously published works being even more flawed, it never achieved an audience on par with his most beloved classics. The narrative is sparse, and much of it feels like a self-mockery rather than the poetic precision we’re accustomed to from Hemingway. Instead of the rich complexity that brought his characters to life, this work seems to lack depth and dimension. As a result, although Cantwell may be one of Hemingway’s most tormented literary counterparts, he is also his flattest character.

This work is challenging yet captivating; I believe it’s the least impressive piece Hemingway released during his lifetime, and yet I’ve found myself reading it four times. As S.F. Sanderson, one of its advocates, argued at the time: “It seems as if Hemingway-the-legend were being interviewed by the press.”

2024-08-30 21:53

Hemingway’s Worst Novel Is Now a Slightly Better Movie

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