A victim of respectable but somewhat patronizing reviews at the time of itsoriginal release, Letter from an Unknown Woman has since achieved classic status, both as one of the bestexamples of what used to be called "the woman's picture," and as an impressive showcase for the camerawizardry that distinguished Max Ophuls' direction. "Max and his tracks" were legendary: the Ophulstracking shot would follow the characters into rooms, out of rooms, and through the walls of rooms as ifthe cameraman had the mobility of a ghost. In Ophuls' second American film (Caught and The RecklessMoment would follow), Joan Fontaine, an actress who seemed to make a specialty out of aggressivedocility, portrays an obsessive young woman who builds her whole life around a passion for a concertpianist (Louis Jourdan) who is barely aware of her existence. The story of lifelong, unrequited love-told viaa posthumous letter-in being almost absurd is more cynical than it is romantic. Andrew Sarris wrote ofOphuls: "Love, the memory of love, the mortality of love comprise the Ophulsian heritage...(and) Ophulsoffers no...comforting consolation...There is no escape from the trap of time...This is the ultimate meaningof Ophulsian camera movement: time has no stop..."