Matt Patton
A Letter To Three Wives (1949)
The material began life as a Cosmopolitan magazine serial entitled A Letter To Five Wives. The first draft of the script whittled it down to four, and subsequent drafts to the trio implied by the title . . .
The letter is sent by the never-seen Addie Ross (her voice was supplied by an uncredited Celeste Holm, who brings surprising subtlety to the catty character), a "classy" woman who is the feminine ideal for all three husbands of our married heroines (Addie's actual husband went out for a paper one evening and never came back). On the day she's supposed to accompany her "dearest friends" on a charity outing for a local orphanage, she skips town sending a short note that states she has run off with one of their husbands. Unable to contact said husbands (this was the days before smart phones and wi-fi), each of the wives is left to ponder why their husband might have skipped town with Addie . . .
And all three marriages are under pressure; Deborah Bishop (Jeanne Crain) fears that she is too much a hayseed to fit in with her wealthy husband's ((Jeffrey Lynn) friends and that he still pines for his old girlfriend Addie. Rita Phipps (Ann Sothern) makes more money in a month as a radio writer than her school-teaching husband (Kirk Douglas) does in a year; also, he has a certain amused contempt for most commercial radio and thinks she has become too much a creature of her professional surroundings. Lora Mae Hollingsworth (Linda Darnell) started dating her department-store owning husband (Paul Douglas) in a cynical effort to get a promotion to help her struggling family, and keeps playing hardball until he marries her. The resolution of the story is both amusing and surprisingly touching and feels very "right," which is rare in commercial films.
Even with the same script (by Joseph Mankiewicz, who also directed), the film wouldn't have worked as well without the cast he put together. Ann Sothern had been wasted in one too many "B" movies at MGM over the past decade and would soon be lost to television--this was her first really meaty role in a long time and she was splendid as the smart, funny woman who is very aware of the pitfalls of soap-opera writing, but also of the compensations (such as the weekly salary of "one hundred pieces in the most restful shade of green"); Jeanne Crain, gets a chance to show not only her dramatic chops, but to let loose in a bit of farce (her drunken waltz on the dance floor at the country club is a genuine hoot), and Linda Darnell, given the most complicated character in the film delivers a layered and touching performance as someone whose ideas may be wrong, but they ARE definite and she's going to live by them, even if it leads to pain. This is the sort of movie that people mean when they talk about smart entertainment, something you're more likely to find on television than in movie theaters these days. Which is a pity.
A Letter To Three Wives (1949)
The material began life as a Cosmopolitan magazine serial entitled A Letter To Five Wives. The first draft of the script whittled it down to four, and subsequent drafts to the trio implied by the title . . .
The letter is sent by the never-seen Addie Ross (her voice was supplied by an uncredited Celeste Holm, who brings surprising subtlety to the catty character), a "classy" woman who is the feminine ideal for all three husbands of our married heroines (Addie's actual husband went out for a paper one evening and never came back). On the day she's supposed to accompany her "dearest friends" on a charity outing for a local orphanage, she skips town sending a short note that states she has run off with one of their husbands. Unable to contact said husbands (this was the days before smart phones and wi-fi), each of the wives is left to ponder why their husband might have skipped town with Addie . . .
And all three marriages are under pressure; Deborah Bishop (Jeanne Crain) fears that she is too much a hayseed to fit in with her wealthy husband's ((Jeffrey Lynn) friends and that he still pines for his old girlfriend Addie. Rita Phipps (Ann Sothern) makes more money in a month as a radio writer than her school-teaching husband (Kirk Douglas) does in a year; also, he has a certain amused contempt for most commercial radio and thinks she has become too much a creature of her professional surroundings. Lora Mae Hollingsworth (Linda Darnell) started dating her department-store owning husband (Paul Douglas) in a cynical effort to get a promotion to help her struggling family, and keeps playing hardball until he marries her. The resolution of the story is both amusing and surprisingly touching and feels very "right," which is rare in commercial films.
Even with the same script (by Joseph Mankiewicz, who also directed), the film wouldn't have worked as well without the cast he put together. Ann Sothern had been wasted in one too many "B" movies at MGM over the past decade and would soon be lost to television--this was her first really meaty role in a long time and she was splendid as the smart, funny woman who is very aware of the pitfalls of soap-opera writing, but also of the compensations (such as the weekly salary of "one hundred pieces in the most restful shade of green"); Jeanne Crain, gets a chance to show not only her dramatic chops, but to let loose in a bit of farce (her drunken waltz on the dance floor at the country club is a genuine hoot), and Linda Darnell, given the most complicated character in the film delivers a layered and touching performance as someone whose ideas may be wrong, but they ARE definite and she's going to live by them, even if it leads to pain. This is the sort of movie that people mean when they talk about smart entertainment, something you're more likely to find on television than in movie theaters these days. Which is a pity.