A Letter to Three Wives (1949)

In another time, during my mid-twenties, I would be considered old to have never married. Millennials, in their young adulthood, have stared down an economic crisis and now a pandemic that has encumbered societies in unprecedented ways. The median age for a first marriage has never been higher. Go back to the years after World War II in the United States and one will find a record amount of marriages (and divorces) among those in their early twenties. Marriages then and now test the forces of attraction as they ebb, survive disagreements, temptation, differences in character and values. Few other films capture that essence as well as Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s A Letter to Three Wives. Released by 20th Century Fox, A Letter to Three Wives is set in an idyllic, upper-crust suburban America – a reality most Americans are unfamiliar with. Yet, the tensions in this drama are deeply felt, and the anxieties of the three wives are shown with extraordinary compassion and understanding.

Somewhere in what looks like upstate New York (still close enough to drive to the Big Apple and back in a day), Deborah Bishop (Jeanne Crain), Rita Phipps (Ann Sothern), and Lora Mae Hollingsway (Linda Darnell) are volunteers who are about to take an annual riverboat ride for the underserved children in the community. Lunches have been prepared. The children are running up and down the decks, excited for a weekend of play. The ship’s engine sounds ready for cast off. In this town of enormous two-story homes, spacious front yards, old trees overlooking residential streets, and a quaint Main Street, even cosseted families help their neighbors in need. Before embarking, they receive a letter from their friend, Addie Ross (who is never fully seen; voiced by Celeste Holm), saying that she is leaving town with one of their husbands. She does not specify whose husband has she run off with: Bradford “Brad” Bishop (Jeffrey Lynn), George Phipps (Kirk Douglas), or Porter Hollingsway (Paul Douglas; no relation to Kirk). 

After reading the letter, Deborah, Rita, and Lora Mae decide not to speak about it for the rest of the trip, so as not to spoil the mood. During the trip and picnic, all three wives reminisce about their marriages as if they fully expect it is their respective husband – each of whom has, at one point in the past, admitted attraction to Addie Ross – who has been unfaithful. What could possibly have gone wrong, they wonder as they remember. This is shown in three lengthy flashbacks before the trip concludes and the women return home.

Already boasting breakthrough hits with Dragonwyck (1946) and The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), Mankiewicz would find himself among the elite of 20th Century Fox’s directorial lineup with A Letter to Three Wives. Joseph L. Mankiewicz served not only as director, but as screenwriter in this adaptation of A Letter to Five Wives by John Klempner – too many wives, said Fox studio head Darryl F. Zanuck, as writer Vera Caspary adapted the story for four wives and Mankiewicz eliminated one more. Indeed, given how this film is organized, five wives are too many and four would be a stretch. Mankiewicz and Caspary’s treatment of the three stories manages to tie each wife’s/married couple’s story to the others, while retaining each marriage’s distinct dynamics.

First is Deborah. Played by Jeanne Crain, she is a U.S. Navy veteran, having served in the Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES) and met her now-husband, Brad, while in the Navy. Her flashback takes us to the time when Brad introduced her to his friends’ circle and the country club’s social for the first time. Being out of uniform and donning a formal dress is an alien concept to her, and she is worried about making a fool of herself in front of Brad’s friends and everyone gathered there. There are hints in this first vignette of a class divide between Brad and Deborah, but this is never expounded upon for Deborah (Lorna Mae’s segment will lean into this). Nevertheless, the screenplay confronts Deborah’s fears about being the new girl, imposter syndrome, and her social anxiety. This could be treated as a punchline, as some 1930s and ‘40s films were more inclined to depict. But the writing and Jeanne Crain’s unsettled visage in her performance treat her feelings with legitimacy, acceptance, and good humor. Deborah’s flashback in A Letter to Three Wives sets the tone for the film: always rooted in humanistic drama, but not without some gentle comedy.

For Rita and George Phipps, their scenes together are more confrontational, with the other trying to assert as much control in their off-kilter lives as they can. She writes for radio dramas; he is a schoolteacher in language arts. She wants him to secure a higher-paying job (as if their comfortable house isn’t already enough, apparently); he feels like he has found his calling in teaching and think radio drama writing makes a mockery of great literature. Viewers more attuned to the politics of gendered pay differences might find George’s assertions to be backwards. The fact that it is even shown at all in A Letter to Three Wives upends the stereotypes of a male breadwinner – while not portraying the husband as a jobless ne’er-do-well – is remarkable, regardless of artistic medium. Yes, this is always framed as Rita’s story, but it takes her and George’s concerns as seriously as the other. Again, we see Mankiewicz and Caspary treating both side of a married couple with all respect to what fulfills them professionally and personally – occasionally in a relationship or friendship there is a clash of interests, but it is up to both to work through those differences. Though not his finest performance, Kirk Douglas – given the rough-edged persona cultivated in his filmography – is perfect casting. Ann Sothern’s passive-aggressive delivery of her dialogue is a joy, as we know she means not to offend. Those who adore Old Hollywood character actors will notice an uncredited, scene-stealing Thelma Ritter during Rita and George’s vignette – her last uncredited film appearance before greater (credited) performances for her future.

With Linda Darnell and Paul Douglas starring, Linda Mae’s flashback was the least satisfying for me, but also the most comedic. Linda Mae is from a working family – the finances difficult, the home ramshackle. Her story is set before meeting Porter, who just so happens to be her wealthy employer. The ethics of a wealthy executive being engaged with a younger employee (this soon-to-be married couple appears to have the largest age difference of the three, even though the age difference between Jeanne Crain and Jeffrey Lynn as Deborah and Brad is similar) are murky at best, and the dynamics of their relationship deserves to be viewed rather than described. Their marriage is not one of convenience, nor one based on values, but it overcomes the class differences – illustrated hilariously – that should make their story together impossible. It appears Linda Mae and Porter are on unstable ground, speaking to the unease in her socioeconomic status and his lingering pain over a failed marriage. Mankiewicz and Caspary’s screenplay, for the first time, appears a little unsure about what to do with Porter – whose free-wheeling personality sees Linda Mae make fewer demands than her friends. The resolution may surprise some in its brevity (and I imagine some will take issue to it), but it speaks to the messiness of individuals and how love contorts and forgives.

Linking all three vignettes together is the unseen Addie Ross. Portrayed in voiceover by Celeste Holm, Addie’s presence reverberates around the film half-seriously, as the three wives wonder which husband has been poached. But most importantly, what unites the film is the friendship between Deborah, Rita, and Lora Mae. Credit the performances of Crain, Sothern, and Darnell (one of the best performances in a tragically shortened career). Each of their characters has the others’ backing – evidenced early on, when Rita counsels Deborah before the latter’s first night out in town. Their promise to not speak of Addie’s provocative letter until their trip is over holds, reflecting a predisposition to suburban secrecy and upholding gendered mores that say women are too emotional and should restrain emotional outbursts. Not once are the wives’ bonds to each other fractured. Though the wives are collectively silent, the audience knows that they must be going through that punched-in-the-gut feeling that everyone experiences sometime in their life. That this is depicted with such grace speaks to the masterful writing and a fantastic ensemble performance.

Had A Letter to Three Wives remained as A Letter to Five Wives, the wives would have been played by Gene Tierney (1944’s Laura), Linda Darnell, Maureen O’Hara (1947’s Miracle on 34th Street), Dorothy McGuire (1947’s Gentleman’s Agreement), and Alice Faye (Fox’s primary musical superstar in the 1930s) – all set to shoot in November 1946. Talk about a “who is who” of 20th Century Fox-contracted actresses! This is not to downplay the credentials of Crain or Sothern, but the former was a young actress yet to realize the heights of her career and the latter was best-known for the Maisie series at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM, who loaned Sothern to Fox for this film). With Darryl F. Zanuck’s recommendation to revise the script to cut the film down to three wives, shooting did not begin until June 1948.

There is much that A Letter to Three Wives covers. From returning veterans to gender-coded expectations to class, this is a film attempting to make sense of a time when couples hurried to marry, with the United States’ economic boom extending into peacetime. Its flashback structure may seem a hackneyed thing almost seventy years later, but each additional segment layers poignancy to the past and present. So often overshadowed by Mankiewicz’s next film (some little thing called All About Eve), it has few rivals in Western cinema among films on marriage, in exultation and anguish. A Letter to Three Wives is Americana at its finest – not in blind celebration of these days long past of manicured lawns, dinner parties, and children playing until sundown; but in acknowledgment of human foibles that have and always will persist. It is the stuff that makes life interesting.

My rating: 10/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. A Letter to Three Wives is the one hundred and fifty-ninth feature-length or short film I have rated a ten on imdb.