In this inventive exploration of the eternal triangle, the film uses a single trio to play all roles across six nations, turning jealousy into a cultural mosaic. Starring Sarah Miles as the Wife, Nicol Williamson as the Lover, and Bill Meilen as the Husband, the movie keeps the same core setup while letting each country reinterpret the dynamics with its own flair, all while gently poking fun at the styles of well-known directors and stars from each place.
The opening thread treats the story through a desert-draped, almost mythic lens: desert sheiks, tents, Persian brocades, and an Arab husband’s quiet, escalating sense of revenge. This segment frames passion as a ritualized spectacle, rich in color and cadence, even as a modern notice of the triangle moves beneath the surface.
Next, the English section coolly reframes the drama around restraint and domestic compromise. Rain taps on windows, the cricket pauses for the moment, and a whisky becomes a small, practical treaty between lovers and spouses, signifying how restraint can mask the fire beneath.
> I admire your bust.
The Japanese take a stark, ritual edge, leaning into a fatalist mood and an emphasis on ritual endings, with harakiri appearing as a dramatic counterpoint to any perceived foreign intrusion. The tone shifts toward a fatalistic dignity, even as personal loyalties fracture within the compact, intimate triangle.
> I should never have married a Neapolitan lady of the town!
In Italy, the subtitles famously misinterpret emotional heat with a cheeky, half-serious mistranslation, turning flirtation and anger into comic misreadings that underscore how language can distort truth. The dialogue ring is off-kilter, playful, and pointed, casting the lovers’ and husband’s feelings in a light that’s at once breezy and sharp.
The Swedes lume the scene in a snowbound, minimalist hush, where time seems to stop in a handless clock and the overall mood fuses melancholy with quiet infidelity. The trio persists in their mischief as the cold landscape and isolation reinforce the emotional distance, all while the snow keeps the outside world at bay.
The French segment rides a different current altogether, pulling the story into the kinetic energy of the New Wave. Handheld cameras skim through interiors and streets as a lover searches for a cigarette, while the line "ça va?" becomes a shorthand for a wide range of unspoken feelings until a surprising close.
This playful, border-transcending approach not only dramatizes the same relationship from multiple cultural angles but also acts as a satire of cinema itself—its clichés, its pretensions, and its language—while staying anchored in a straightforward, human core: a husband who returns to find his wife with a lover, and the trio who carry the scene across dozens of moods, silences, and gags. The result is a sustained, multilayered tapestry that is both faithful to its premise and refreshingly inventive in its execution.
