Ivory and the late Ismail Merchant bring their considerable talent to a quiet corner of Western history. In  the mid 1930’s, some fleeing Soviet Russia sought temporary shelter in Shanghai. Irony soon caught up with them as the refugees found themselves wedged between Japanese invaders and communist Chinese defenders. A ripe setting for a resplendent Merchant Ivory production one would think. Well, yes and no.

Amid the muddle is ex-Countess Sofia (Richardson), a woman forced to feed her disapproving family by working as a night-club escort. She encounters a blind, mislaid, American diplomat (Fiennes) who dreams of opening his own venue and urges Sofia to join him as its centrepiece. The pair nervously come together while themes of alienation, isolation and the disenfranchised play with varying success.

Despite establishing a vibrant world of possibility, Kazuo Ishiguro’s (Remains of the Day) lack-lustre script fails to take off. It is awash with ideas and politic that don’t gel, and even the usually formidable lensing of Christopher Doyle (In The Mood For Love) seems to be steering itself. Richardson’s chilly performance undoes whatever chemistry the leads might have found, although Fiennes delivers reason enough to stay with a measured performance recalling James Stewart, even if his blind character is clearly sighted. It’s an intriguing touch. All that said, The White Countess is an elegant production saved from turning into a maudlin account of unfulfilled lives amid unconvincing accents thanks largely to the Japanese war machine. Nonetheless, after trading on past glory for nearly a decade, Merchant-Ivory deserved a better swansong.

// COLIN FRASER