Love, Loss, and Obsession in Wartime London: Revisiting The End of the Affair (1999)
The End of the Affair (1999), directed by Neil Jordan and based on Graham Greene’s haunting 1951 novel of the same name, is a deeply emotional and atmospheric film that explores the complexities of love, jealousy, and faith. Set in the turbulent backdrop of World War II-era London, the film is a compelling blend of romance and psychological drama, elevated by stellar performances, poetic cinematography, and a haunting score.
The story follows novelist Maurice Bendrix, played by Ralph Fiennes, who is consumed by bitterness and longing two years after the abrupt end of a passionate love affair with Sarah Miles, portrayed by Julianne Moore in a role that earned her an Academy Award nomination. When Maurice encounters Sarah’s husband, Henry (Stephen Rea), a mild-mannered civil servant who suspects his wife of infidelity, Maurice seizes the opportunity to rekindle contact with Sarah—only to uncover a far more complex and tragic truth behind their separation.
Unlike conventional love stories, The End of the Affair is told through a fractured, non-linear narrative that mirrors the emotional disarray of its characters. Through Maurice’s obsessive lens, we are drawn into flashbacks of intense intimacy and unbearable heartbreak. What begins as a passionate extramarital affair becomes a meditation on guilt, faith, and the spiritual cost of love. Jordan’s direction masterfully captures the claustrophobic tension between desire and morality, crafting scenes that are both tender and tormented.
Ralph Fiennes delivers a deeply felt performance as the brooding writer whose love turns into obsession and then existential despair. Julianne Moore, as Sarah, balances sensuality with spiritual depth, revealing a woman torn between her earthly desires and a promise made to God in a moment of desperation. Their chemistry is electric yet tragic, their encounters marked not by joy, but by the inevitability of loss.
The cinematography by Roger Pratt bathes the film in muted tones, rain-slicked streets, and candlelit interiors, evoking the mood of post-blitz London and the internal decay of the characters’ souls. Composer Michael Nyman’s evocative score weaves sorrow and beauty together, creating an atmosphere that lingers long after the credits roll.
At its heart, The End of the Affair is not merely a story of illicit love, but a philosophical exploration of how war, chance, and faith intersect in people’s lives. Greene’s Catholic themes—particularly the tension between human love and divine will—are preserved with great sensitivity. The film questions the very nature of miracles, promises, and whether one can ever truly let go of the past.
Though it may not appeal to those seeking a traditional romance, The End of the Affair offers a rich, melancholic journey through the emotional wreckage of love. With its intelligent script, strong performances, and moral ambiguity, it stands as one of the more profound romantic dramas of its era—an affair not easily forgotten.
