Beautiful young woman with amnesia may hold the key to the murder of a soldier; the victim was actually the woman's sweetheart, while her newly-acquired husband was the soldier's war-buddy who was enlisted by his friend to write love letters to the lass back home. Hoary Paramount melodrama with Gothic trimmings, adapted by Ayn Rand from Christopher Massie's book, is all dewy-eyed and fog-enshrouded...anything (one presumes) to deflect attention from the ridiculous plot-line. Jennifer Jones barely connects with the other actors on-screen; her main concern seems to be in projecting an other-worldly quality (this attained by staring heavenward and speaking haltingly in a breathy whisper). One never fears for Jones' character because she has removed herself intrinsically from the proceedings--all we have left to absorb is her affected (one might say, purposefully modulated) temperament and overtly-posed exterior, staged as if in a series of fashionable photographs. ** from ****
Review of Love Letters
