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In `The Letter' William Wyler takes a predictable plot and turns it into a brilliant film with the help of one of the grande dames of film. For hell hath no fury like Bette Davis with a revolver in her hand.

The film opens with Leslie Crosby (Bette Davis) emptying her revolver into a man on her front porch, shooting him twice after he hits the ground. She tells the police she was defending herself against his sexual assault. She seems to be headed for an easy acquittal until (surprise) an incriminating letter surfaces that suggests that she summoned the victim to her house with the clear intention of murdering him.

Can the evidence be suppressed? Will she be acquitted? Was she really in love with the victim? The answers to these questions are obvious to all but the most naïve viewer. Yet, despite the transparency of the plot, this film works for two reasons: Bette Davis and William Wyler.

Bette Davis is arguably among the best actresses of all time. She was originally signed by Universal Studios, who dropped her because she didn't have the looks to be a movie star. Still, Warner Brothers decided to take a chance on her in 1932, signing her to a seven-year contract that would produce two Oscars. She was nominated for best actress eleven times, winning twice (`Dangerous', 1936 and `Jezebel' 1939). She was nominated five straight years from 1939 to 1943. This performance was in the middle of that run. It is classic Bette Davis, utterly in command of every scene. Her portrayal of Leslie is superb, a duplicitous and cunning woman who could manipulate any man to do her bidding. It took another woman to humble her. This is Davis in her prime and it is awesome to see her at work. She could make a dog food commercial exciting to watch.

What Davis was to acting William Wyler was to directing. (The two shared more than a professional relationship, and it was widely rumored at that time that they were romantically involved.) Wyler was nominated for best director twelve times winning three (`Mrs. Miniver', 1942; `The Best Years of Our Lives', 1943; `Ben Hur', 1960). Like Davis, he was also nominated for this film. Wyler's camerawork here is fantastic. In black and white films, lighting is critical, because the director doesn't have the luxury of relying on color to dramatize the images. Aided by veteran cinematographer Tony Gaudio, Wyler's use of lighting and shadows in this film is brilliant. It could serve as a primer for dramatic black and white cinematography. Gaudio was also nominated for an Oscar for this film, one of his six nominations in a forty-year career.

This film was nominated for seven Academy Awards, including best picture, but it was shut out. Despite a predictable story, I rated it a 9/10 on the strength of the acting, directing and cinematography. It is an excellent opportunity to see Bette Davis during her glory years in one of her many outstanding performances.

The wife (Bette Davis) of a rubber plantation administrator shoots a man to death and claims it was self-defense. Her poise, graciousness and stoicism impress nearly everyone who meets her. Her husband (Herbert Marshall) is certainly without doubt; so is the new district officer (Bruce Lester); while her lawyer's (James Stephenson) doubts may be a natural skepticism. But this is Singapore and the resentful natives will have no compunction about undermining this accused murderess. A letter in her hand turns up and may prove her undoing.

This remarkable drama begins with several literal bangs, and we're fascinated from that moment until the last frame of film. Davis, with her precise and intricate manners that match her character's elaborate web of deceit (symbolized by her compulsive crocheting), gives a fiery, mannered, mysterious performance that may equal anything she's done. Marshall and Stephenson are both subtle in their acting and refined in their manners. William Wyler directs an adaptation of W. Somerset Maugham's play (Maugham provided the material for Davis's breakthrough role in "Of Human Bondage") and never makes a false move until the censor-imposed ending. Tony Gaudio's photography, with the light often hitting people from a full moon or through the slats of blinds, is splendid. Max Steiner's music, though repetitive, is very effective. A great film.

From its explosive beginning to its hushed ending, this is Golden Age Hollywood story-telling at its best. Director William Wyler and star Bette Davis were lovers behind the scenes and it shows here in the masterful way he showcases her and also in the way she responds.

The story, set in colonial Malaysia, from W Somerset Maugham's novel, is expertly unveiled from that dramatic opening as, under a full moon, Davis's Leslie Crosbie commits the ultimate crime of passion and then throws herself on the legal skills of family friend James Stephenson to get her off. Her defence is self-defence against attempted rape and seems plausible until word is filtered to Stephenson by his duplicitous, self-serving native assistant of the existence of a highly incriminating letter written by the accused woman on the night of the murder, which puts a completely different reading on events.

And so the threat of blackmail leads to a secret bargain with the slain man's widow, played in inscrutable, indeed mute fashion by Gale Sondergaard, an imposing, haunting presence in her every scene, unwillingly dragging Stephenson into a shady bargain which compromises his professional ethics, but out of friendship for Davis's doting, unsuspecting husband, Herbert Marshall, he eventually allows himself to be drawn into effectively acting as Davis's accomplice.

Although the trial outcome is assured, there's still a price to be paid by Bette however when Marshall learns that the financial price for buying the letter was far higher than its importance had been made out to him before, leaving him penniless and unable to fulfil his dream move to Singapore. Aah, but at least he has the love of his innocent wife to fall back on...or so he thinks...

The only inconsistencies in the story for me were the two prices Davis had to pay in the end, which I can only attribute to the Code's requirement that no crime, certainly a capital crime like this, can be allowed to go unpunished. That said it does pave the way for Davis's memorable final walk in shadow to her ultimate fate which impressively closes the film.

There can't be many better-lit films than this, Wyler's use of light and shade is absolutely masterful. He also gets a great lead performance from Davis, who holds onto her steely, ice-cool demeanour right up until Marshall, also very good in his very supportive role, asks her the question which causes her facade to shatter. James Stephenson, a name previously unknown to me and who sadly died just after the film's release, is likewise excellent as the couple's conflicted legal adviser and was deservedly Oscar-nominated for his work. Mention should also be made of Max Steiner's brooding soundtrack which adds much to the stifling atmosphere throughout.

This film is a rare combination of a rattling good tale, expertly directed and convincingly played all adding up to a tense and gripping melodrama.

William Wyler directs Bette Davis in a fine screen adaptation of a Somerset Maugham story. The plot is sheer melodrama and has la Davis in all kinds of hot water, legal and personal, in British Malaya. Wyler's pretentious direction works better here than elsewhere, and this is one of his finest films. The combination of the director's grandiose desire to turn everything into high art meshes nicely with Maugham's journeyman but psychologically complex, basically mediocre tale. Add to this a bravura performance from his star, and the result is a highly watchable and intelligent movie.

The tropics are nicely evoked without without drawing too much emphasis to the fact that everything and everyone seems to be wilting in the heat. Wyler and his screenwriters have clearly done their homework, and along with the cast present a believable picture of the closed society that was the essence of British imperial rule. These people are more snobs than not, but they are often decent snobs, good friends to one another in a tight spot, and carry themselves with a kind of quiet dignity that seems to have died with the empire. There are some fine performances aside from Miss Davis', notably from James Stevenson as her lawyer, who yet seems to be her lover, but isn't; and Herbert Marshall, who may as well her lawyer but is in fact her husband. The moon figures prominently in the film, seeming to hover over the action, perhaps even dictating it, and giving the movie perhaps a stronger resonance than its civilized melodrama deserves.

What a wonderful film this still is, so long as you're not hamstrung with all the modern pc prejudices. Sadly I feel that one far-off day this film will be banned, when apparent white moral repugnance of the past overwhelms the remaining whites with shame. I've seen "The Letter" now maybe 12 times and it hasn't polluted my mind with imperialist or racial stereotypes, just filled it with pleasure that Wyler at Warners could make such an atmospheric studio-bound gem in 1940.

At the start woman shoots man - but was it murder or justified homicide? All of the cast are superb in their roles, Bette never looked sexier, Herbert Marshall never so realistic, and Gale Sondergaard never so sinister - but James Stephenson! He only made a few more films before his premature death but his understated sweaty performance as the lawyer in this electrifies me every time I watch - without him it might have a very different story! Although on a serious level it is (to me) typical Somerset Maugham fare, I haven't read any better from him as yet. Bette has some fine lines and scenes, and only occasionally hamming it up. Steiner's music is repetitive, but memorable anyhow, and the photography gleams well under the Warners arc-moonlight. But as near perfect in every department as it could get, it's still dignified Stephenson's film - he steals every scene he's in, come what or who may.

The Hays Office was the real uncivilised savage at the end, not the inscrutable "Orientals", but even with such a contrived messy ending it remains compulsive classic viewing for me, once every couple of years.