88/100

It's no surprise that these 'endless parades of arrivals and departures' that make Letter from an Unknown Woman take as much away from these characters as they give. It's these actions and the musicality of the performers' movements matched by the waltz the camera is frequently engaged in that creates Ophüls' tragic world wherein our central woman Lisa Berndle devotes her life to a man she seems destined not to be with. It's always a window or a door blocking Lisa from her love - or everything that, to her, represents her love - pertubed by her inability to reach him even through something most brittle. And finally, upon meeting, their attempt to capture missed opportunities and memories can…

So marvelously complex, proposing a link between spectacle and romantic delusions. It's the only of Ophuls' American films to capture the dialecticalisms of his 1950's work, yet like those prior, remain true to its narrative constructs. Lisa doesn't just live in her fantasy world, she believes it to exist in the world - her first set of outings with Stefan: candle-lit dinners, horse-drawn carriage rides, Viennese waltzes. We see this all through memory, but its Ophuls' genius to have them resemble something out of a elaborate costume drama. This dialectialism is clear once we get to the fake train ride, at the fair. But Stefan is just as much a lost soul - at least in this memory, during their…

Film #3 of Gustav's Recommendations

” I know now that nothing happens by chance. Every moment is measured; every step is counted.”

With a sad and heartbreaking story which addressees issues like destiny, love, dignity, pride and regret, Max Ophuls’ unappreciated little masterpiece, Letter From An Unknown Woman, is more like a story written by Leo Tolstoy, like the works of the Russian writer it takes place in dimly lit noble houses and chooses its characters from the upper-class society, it takes lonely characters and follows them across years as they go from happiness into misery and despair. What Ophuls does is that he turns his camera away from all the glamour of houses, clothes and concerts and instead focuses…

Sarris's "Pantheon" entry on Max Ophuls in The American Cinema (1969):

The cinema of Max Ophuls translates tracking into walking. His fluid camera follows his characters without controlling them, and it is this stylistic expression of free will that finally sets Ophuls apart from Murnau and Hitchcock. However, the track is such a conspicuous element of film technique that Ophuls has never been sufficiently appreciated for his other merits. Even when he is most bitter, he never descends to caricature. His humor is never malicious, his irony never destructive. Like Renoir, he was one of the first genuinely international directors, the kind of artist who did not slur over national differences in the name of a spurious universality, but who…