The Letter

In Malaya, a plantation owner’s wife (Bette Davis) shoots and kills a man in what she claims was self-defense, but an incriminating letter in her own handwriting may prove otherwise.

The Letter is a heavy-handed melodrama masquerading as a film nor. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, but regardless, the film is long on orchestra swells, and short on bite.

The problem lies in the script, specifically, two Production Code mandated changes writer Howard Kotch made to W. Somerset Maugham’s play. The first concerns the fate of Davis’ character and the second changed Davis’ lover’s Chinese mistress into his Eurasian wife. These alterations may not seem like much on paper, but they effectively rob the film of all of its edge.

First, you have Davis’ character’s fate nice and wrapped up, as opposed to the original, darker ending that had her living in a perpetual hell for her sins. The code says no character can get away with murder, so the original ending wouldn’t work. Never mind that the point was that she doesn’t get away with it but instead has to live out her life consumed by guilt and regret.

Then you have the Chinese mistress turned Eurasian wife. This is just ridiculous because everything we’re told about Davis’ lover leads us to believe he was quite the ladies man who had no interest in being tied down. Further, Gale Sondergaard looks like the Bride of Frankenstein in that awful makeup, which makes it hard to believe anyone would leave Davis for her.

These two changes cripple what is otherwise a well-acted and well-produced drama. Without any edge, the film just doesn’t resonate and while it might have been a bit more shocking by 1940 standards, The Letter feels hollow today.