We see a charming community of buyers, sellers, on-lookers and otherwise pleasant folks conversing idly. The chirps and chatter of the crowd is not a busy kind, but a calm one, like the low roar of a ceiling fan. A record scratch to the communal bliss comes in the form of Leslie Crosbie (Bette Davis) unloading a revolver into a man until he's down on the ground, and then she shoots a little bit more. After the echoes of the bullets drift away into the ether, she turns, as if being watched, and it blinded by the light of the moon.
So begins William Wyler's "The Letter," a noirish yarn of murder, deceit and all things in-between. Naturally, Crosbie pleads innocent to the murder, claiming the man tried to rape her. However, the titular piece of paper is found, and then all bets are off. It's a simple enough premise, but where this movie shines is its mood and performances.
There is one fantastic scene in particular, when Crosbie's lawyer (Howard Joyce) breaks the news to Crosbie's husband (Herbert Marshall) that a letter's been found that might be detrimental to her case. The way her husband hesitantly defends her--and doesn't even inquire as to the contents of said letter--and the way in which the laywer avoids eye contact, due to a combination of embarrassment and doubt, is a testament to the talent of both actors.
One would be remiss to ignore Bette Davis, whose giant, made-for- the-movies eyes each seem to be telling a different story at all times. There's a lot of moving parts to her literary character--the torn allegiances, the all-seeing eye of the moon, the knitting, which grows more fervent as the film goes on--that a lesser actor might have folded and simply milked the melodrama inherent to the character.
A problem with a lot of these plot-heavy films, reliant on reveals and gasp inducements, is that a lot of the flair is lost, due to the duty to hit certain plot points at certain times, and repeat them over and over again so the audience doesn't feel stupid. However, "The Letter" succeeds mostly at avoiding such things, and feels more like a star vehicle for everyone involved--like a star bus.
While Wyler is more famous today for "Ben-Hur" the most epically epic of all film epics, his ability to hone in on a small, more personal story, and condense it to a point of pure potency, should not be forgotten. Also, the ending of the movie is a result of the Hays Code, but I think it still works.
So begins William Wyler's "The Letter," a noirish yarn of murder, deceit and all things in-between. Naturally, Crosbie pleads innocent to the murder, claiming the man tried to rape her. However, the titular piece of paper is found, and then all bets are off. It's a simple enough premise, but where this movie shines is its mood and performances.
There is one fantastic scene in particular, when Crosbie's lawyer (Howard Joyce) breaks the news to Crosbie's husband (Herbert Marshall) that a letter's been found that might be detrimental to her case. The way her husband hesitantly defends her--and doesn't even inquire as to the contents of said letter--and the way in which the laywer avoids eye contact, due to a combination of embarrassment and doubt, is a testament to the talent of both actors.
One would be remiss to ignore Bette Davis, whose giant, made-for- the-movies eyes each seem to be telling a different story at all times. There's a lot of moving parts to her literary character--the torn allegiances, the all-seeing eye of the moon, the knitting, which grows more fervent as the film goes on--that a lesser actor might have folded and simply milked the melodrama inherent to the character.
A problem with a lot of these plot-heavy films, reliant on reveals and gasp inducements, is that a lot of the flair is lost, due to the duty to hit certain plot points at certain times, and repeat them over and over again so the audience doesn't feel stupid. However, "The Letter" succeeds mostly at avoiding such things, and feels more like a star vehicle for everyone involved--like a star bus.
While Wyler is more famous today for "Ben-Hur" the most epically epic of all film epics, his ability to hone in on a small, more personal story, and condense it to a point of pure potency, should not be forgotten. Also, the ending of the movie is a result of the Hays Code, but I think it still works.