Love Letters

One need not watch the movie to know how this story ends: "love" doesn't matter and is totally irrelevant to anything. The cards are always stacked against The Other Person. Always. Happily, we have Love Letters to never let us forget.

If you're going to watch this movie for "!! HOT JLC topless scenes !!", you're missing out. If you're watching it to complete your Roger Corman collection, you're really missing out.

Watch it if you like feeding the geese on the river.

Watch it if you've lived a little and realize that the idea of "true love" is the product of an empty, irreconcilable lack.

But whatever you do, don't watch it for the soundtrack. Synthesized marimbas and glockenspiels, and Ralph Jones's proto-Michael Nyman piano arrangements will ruin any seriousness the movie tries to impart.

Watch it instead for the utterly bleak commentary on male-female relations, whether father/daughter, colleague/colleague, girlfriend/boyfriend and especially husband/wife.

If you're a JLC die-hard -- or at least the kind of JLC die-hard who knows there is more to life than chasing after upper torso shots -- consider also the connections to Blue Steel (1990). Particularly the retribution fantasies against an abusive (and in this case, also anti-Asian racist, and alcoholic) father, as well as the theme of a young intelligent heterosexual woman, as yet completely unable to make any intelligent choices with regards to the males in her life. No doubt, reassuring for the anti-feminist/giggling misogynist crowd. Though, unlike Megan Turner, Anna does have at least one normal relationship, with her close friend Wendy, who seems to have traveled around a few blocks in her life and is truly capable of offering her some advice.

Instead, in Love Letters, Anna's rejection of a conspicuous but understated incestuous desire on the part of a father wracked by inadequacy issues -- that beleaguered slob, fool enough to marry for that eternal game of whack-a-mole called "love" -- is implied by her consistent impatience with his violence, alcoholism, racism, and inappropriate physical proximities. To complete the cycle-to-be-broken, a flashback to her father repeating the same confused admonitions he'd yelled at Anna earlier that night: "What did I do, did I touch you!", "You're just like her!!" in a scene of domestic violence. Was her mother's 15 year long affair the cause of his enraged, repressed wino-nastiness, or a result, or totally unconnected altogether? The audience is rather effectively left to guess.

There are also a couple throwbacks to Halloween (1978) as JLC plays another dorked-out though successful "geek girl" type - what 22 year old in 1983 Los Angeles is going to be a DJ who spins Beethoven and likes electronic drone music?? Right on to that! We're also left to wonder about that 5 inch scar on Anna's left arm, hmm..hey wait, where'd that come from, gee...

Thumbs up also to: the poster for Dance Theater of Harlem in the radio station, the early tablecore from the old Alpha Syntauri Computer Music System, and the quasi-intellectual nods to Walter Benjamin and Peter Berger.

Though Love Letters ends by wrapping itself in conventional wisdom, the moral of this story is actually somewhat progressive, especially for the culturally reactionary Reagan/Bush/Thatcher/Botha mid-80s: While socially-imposed conservative conventionality is not a prerequisite for "love", the chemistry between the two individuals is crucial (I observed very little in the Curtis-Keach mushy-porn screw scenes, in which Anna gets zero on-screen enjoyment or reciprocation, and believe it was intentional.) Reversing the gender roles, as Anna lives out her affair as dictated by love letters written by a man who has experienced such chemistry, won't work, either. If he ever leaves her for you, the cards will always be stacked against The Other Woman.

Oh yes, and don't get involved with clueless, pretentious, suburban Porsche-driving married jerks who claim they are "fans", either. They will only end up consoling you with that ancient "you can do better than me" line.

Don't fall for it, honey. Go out with that dorky, San Francisco-bound colleague with the glasses, instead; the one who really loves you. That's the only type of guy who can keep up with you, anyway. 7.5/10.

After her mother dies, Jamie Lee Curtis discovers love letters from a man her mom had been having an affair with for several years and begins an affair all her own. Jamie Lee Curtis is heartbreakingly displayed at her absolute best in her first non-horror film ( not Trading Places ).Acting is also good all around and this is a very well done, very adult, motion picture. Roger Corman was shockingly the producer of this film ( his very best movie). A sad and often moving movie about how everybody longs to be loved.

Also Known As: Passion Play and My Love Letters. Rating: 9 and a 1/2 out of 10. Also features the memorable tagline: Sometimes it's right, to do the wrong thing.

This damn film still makes me cry.

There are elements of it that seem schmaltzy and trite at times, but the overall power of the story never lets up. Curtis has probably what are her finest moments in this tiny, almost never-seen film debut from Amy Jones (who did "Slumber Party Massacre" the year before to get the cash to make this Labor Of).

It's probably the most honest and gut-wrenching depiction of obsessional love I've seen, or maybe it's just obsession. Whatever it is, it's lacerating and not to be missed. There are times when, watching Curtis' performance, it's hard for your body not to ache at the anguish she seems to be feeling.

Back to Jones' script for a second... it's full of dark, moody moments that in another film would be over-the-top and pretentious, yet work beautifully here. The photographic portrait session comes immediately to mind...an awesome scene and the two actors playing it are never shown once. The whole affair is filled with little one-offs like this, all of which are presented with a late-autumn chill.

Add to the mix Amy Madigan and Bud Cort's usually fine work (and don't forget the underrated James Keach, whose seemingly at-first overly clinical readings are awkward, then completely fit the character once he's fleshed out). Oh yeah, and Ralph Jones' score is one of the most haunting and beautiful I've ever heard.

Gets me every time.

Finally saw this 1983 independent film produced from legendary Roger Corman called "Love Letters" which starred Jamie Lee Curtis after her famous "Halloween" days. The story is simple Curtis is Anna Winter a young California radio D.J. host who around the time and after the passing of her mother finds out some secrets about mommy and her secret love life. Influence and retracing the path of passion and intimate romance is found in the footsteps of Anna as passion, love, and sex has become an obsession that she's found with that of a married man. Like mother like daughter! Living a double life is shown and it's clear that it takes emotions and complex depth for all involved. Also look for some hot eye candy scenes of Jamie Lee. Overall well done classic independent gem that teaches attraction and love and obsession are all common and tough yet it passes just as people and time do.

Fresh off of The Slumber Party Massacre (1982), Amy Holden Jones turned to romantic drama and brought in Jamie Lee Curtis, who was looking for a change from horror herself. The story of a 40-year-old married man's affair with a 22-year-old woman may not be groundbreaking, but it is touching and felt authentic.

It's a quiet film but had several other positives, starting with Curtis, who aside from being gorgeous, showing her acting ability in a film filled with emotion. There are several steamy erotic scenes that threatened to become gratuitous, but I thought they were tastefully done (especially by today's standards) and integral to the story. That's what I'm telling myself anyway. The affair is echoed in letters that Curtis's character finds among her dead mother's things; it turns out she too had an affair, this one over many years with a man who truly loved her, and who was essentially in Curtis's position, the one on the outside. It's a little contrived but as Curtis sometimes uses words (and even writes an entire letter) out of the man's tender letters to her mother, we can see the commonality in the emotions of all affairs, and the impossible position they put everyone in.

There is also an interesting hint of abuse Curtis's character suffered at the hands of her father as a child; I loved the subtlety with how this was done, even if the way Matt Clark played the drunken rage of the man in the present was a tad hammy. James Keach is reasonably good as the married man, the one who wants to believe he's being "honest" by saying he's married up-front, but who is a massive hypocrite, and playing with the lives of everyone around him. I loved seeing Bud Cort and Amy Madigan in small parts too, as well as a few scenes around Venice, California and good old Randy's Donuts. Very nice ending in the graveyard too. Not quite sharp or deep enough to truly love, but a smaller film worth seeing.