Letter From An Unknown Woman (1948)

"I know now nothing happens by chance. Every moment is measured. Every step is counted."

"I've had no will but his, ever."

- Lisa, Letter From An Unknown Woman

There are several dialectics in Max Ophuls's Letter From An Unknown Woman:

• the dead against the dying (the photographs of Lisa and her son, now bearers of their existences, now memento mori - to this end, see Garrett Stewart's excellent analysis in "Photo-gravure", Wide Angle, Vol. 9, No. 1);
• the past against the present (the letter, writing of Lisa's story and ultimately pointing to her death, now writing Stefan's story and ultimately leading to his death);
• motion against stasis (the still photographs against the moving image; the still carriage against the moving backdrops in the funfair);
  
• death against life (the waxworks against the seduction, in time engendering the birth of young Stefan; the letter, carrying Lisa's death, breathing life for the first time in her relationship with Stefan) etc.
  

However, the one I am most interested in is the dialectic of external destiny against human will, best encapsulated in the two opening quotes, both said by Lisa at different points of the film: all is predestined by fate ("nothing happens by chance"), all is predestined by him ("I've had no will but his"). Who, exactly, is responsible for Lisa's seemingly senseless foolishness? For it is indeed foolishness - "romantic nonsense", as her husband snaps - how could one be so devotedly in love aged 12? How could one so easily (she never seemed to have thought twice - a few agonized moments of looking at Stefan in the opera theatre and she was gone) turn away from a responsible, kind, loving husband who has been good to her? How could one throw away what is effectively now her only family - a tender husband, a lovely son - for a man who could not even remember her for 2 weeks? No, this is more than foolishness. This is illogic - ill logic.

On my DVD, film historian Tag Gallagher narrates a video essay on Letter From An Unknown Woman, and he suggests that Lisa's motivation stems from sado-masochism: she wants to hurt herself by loving this most abjectly irresponsible womaniser in the most ludicrous, illogical, unrequited way possible. From sado-masochism we move to masochism: she then sends him the letter, delaying his escape from his presumably fatal duel with Johann, thus effectively consigning him to his death.

I'm not sure of this explanation, to be honest. There is nothing at all in Lisa's character (save for her inexplicable acts per se) to imply psychosis. And to suggest that she timed her death (and thereupon the posting of her mail) to coincide with the duel seems to stretch it a little.

I prefer to think of Lisa's madness (in the colloquial sense) as precisely that: madness. It is ill, and it is illogical, but there it is. Because sometimes there are things in this world which are precisely ill and illogical. I am reminded of some very wise words from Cary Tennis, Dear Abby-guru of Salon.com. On advising a woman on her wanting to go onto fine arts graduate school:

Sometimes things are valuable to us in ways we cannot articulate. One of the benefits of being married to a sympathetic and compatible person is that they will support us in our quest even when we cannot articulate what it is we are searching for or why it is valuable. ... On the surface, he seems to be making a reasonable request: 'Explain to me, make me understand.' And yet he is actually proposing an impossible task, one in which you undoubtedly will fail. For how can you reliably demonstrate the future practical benefits of a fine arts education?

Of course, going to art school is not the same as falling in love, but they both have the principle of throwing your life towards some seemingly reckless, inexplicable, inexpressible end, to which we can never rationalise or intellectualise to others. How can Lisa reliably demonstrate the future practical benefits of devoting herself to a dumb rake such as Stefan Brand? She can't. That is the whole point of falling in love.