I had a few reasons for giving this AFI showing priority. First, it's not available on Netflix even to save, so I wouldn't get much chance otherwise. Second, it's very highly rated on IMDb, Metacritic, and especially Rotten Tomatoes. Third, I'd never seen a Max Ophüls film before (tho the credits list him as "Opuls" for some reason). Fourth, male lead Louis Jourdan recently died, and I wanted to know him from something other than Gigi and Three Coins in the Fountain. Other factors that would have reinforced my decision include a Howard Koch screenplay, Joan Fontaine calling it her favorite film among those she's been in, and Ringu director Hideo Nakata calling it the best film ever.
Unfortunately, there was also a big reason to brace myself: the genre. Romantic dramas rarely do it for me, at least in terms of warming the heart. They tend to run low on originality and/or credibility; running less than 90 minutes doesn't help in that regard. Characters often let their passions override their logic, so I hardly feel sorry for them when their choices don't pay off. Granted, the same could be said of many an action flick, so maybe I'm biased, but it seems to me that that genre relies less on storytelling to begin with.
Here the plot is soon guessable enough that I might as well spell it out. Fontaine's Lisa narrates most of it in the titular letter, written "about 1900" according to the oddly unspecific opening screen. As a Viennese teen, she falls for neighbor Stefan between his piano playing and his handsomeness. Living away from him for years does nothing to reduce her crush. She meets him properly only after he's become a celebrated pianist. Knowing what a lothario he is, she allows him a fleeting fling and seems content not even to bother telling him when he has a son. Years later, despite having married another man, Lisa pursues Stefan again, hoping to rekindle the romance. When he can't place her, she bails on him. By some chance, her son dies of typhus; it's not clear whether she caught the same, but her letter to Stefan (who's heading for an unexplained duel -- people still did that circa 1900?) is dictated from her deathbed.
My dad and some sociable fellow patrons at the lightly attended theater agreed with me that Lisa is so frequently self-defeating, if not self-destructive, that she has to be idiotic or insane. If you love him that strongly, don't let him get away; if you don't love him that strongly, try appreciating the many nice things you already have.
Also defying rationality is the minor character of Stefan's servant, who recognizes Lisa but doesn't indicate as much to Stefan until after her letter arrives. The apparent idea is that being a mute (not deaf, just a blatant contrivance on the writer's part) makes him reticent, but that's no excuse when he writes on a notepad to Stefan.
Not that I personally couldn't believe in such people existing. I actually tried to defend their credibility in discussion. I don't think it worked on my dad.
It's just hard to know what to want out of a movie like this. It would hardly do to have a "happy" ending to reward Lisa's behavior. Their courtship hardly seems beautiful. I guess it's bittersweet insofar as Stefan feels guilt for breaking her heart, if there's anything to be done about that anymore. Does it convey a much-needed moral to take love more seriously? Perhaps, but it'd be more effective if it weren't laid on so thick. The death of the son is neither parent's fault, so it conveys only gratuitous tragedy.
With this, I think I'll take The Earrings of Madame de... off my queue. One Ophüls piece is enough for me.
Letter from an Unknown Woman has plenty of fans, but I'm trying to figure out a demographic to recommend it to besides romantic drama aficionados. Maybe those who love The Grand Budapest Hotel, because Wes Anderson was inspired by author Stefan Zweig in general. Just don't expect a comedy.
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