This delight is all too often limited by Hollywood's lamentable habit of gratuitously punishing the Sanders Cad so as to demonstrate that crime, or excessively smooth talk, does not pay. The most egregious example is "The Private Affairs of Bel-Ami," in which Sanders' character, Duroy, is killed in a duel just before his evil machinations pay off permanently. "Bel-Ami," the de Maupassant novel upon which the film is based, possesses neither the film's embarrassing, boudoir-paperback title nor its "moral" conclusion. In the original, Duroy sleeps with everybody, rises to the top of the garbage heap that is (Parisian) journalism, and is last seen on his wedding day, having pretty much run the table, fantasizing about renewing an old affair.

Even more ridiculous are the sententious words that appear onscreen at the end of "The Moon and Sixpence," basically telling the audience to remember that the protagonist was a naughty, naughty man.

Reality, alas, punished Sanders as well. In a shady and remarkably ill-conceived business venture in the early '60s, Sanders, who always harbored dreams of becoming a tycoon, threw his name and most of his money into a sausage-making scheme that went belly-up, taking Sanders' corporation, CADCO (I kid you not!) Ltd., with it. He was ruined financially and barely escaped prosecution.

Back to "You, Sir, are an Unmitigated Cad!"