The film whose failure destroyed Stroheim's directorial career was
never actually completed, and today is probably best known now for the
clips in Sunset Boulevard. The footage which survives (a little over an
hour, cut off by an abrupt ending imposed by Swanson), is striking, but
now amounts to a stylish setup for a non-existent epic narrative
following a convent girl's loss of innocence. Remarkable for its
symbolism (fire representing desire), its decor (superbly detailed
interiors conveying a sense of aristocratic decadence) and its mature
vision of sexual mores; but it inevitably leaves one feeling short
changed, and is far less satisfying in its present form than Stroheim's
similarly mutilated Greed.
