In Love and War 1996

During World War I, Italy becomes the stage for a deeply personal story as American aid teams are deployed to bolster morale and tend to the wounded along the front. The tale centers on a young man, the 19-year-old Chris O’Donnell portraying Ernest Hemingway, who signs on as an ambulance driver with a burning wish to become a reporter and writer rather than a soldier. He witnesses the strain and heroism of those on the move, riding through bombed streets and crowded makeshift wards, where every shift brings new sights, new losses, and a test of his own resolve. The war zones are not just places of danger; they are crucibles in which characters confront memory, duty, and the pull of dreams beyond the frontline.

In this wounded world, an American nurse named Agnes von Kurowsky—the character brought to life by Sandra Bullock—tends to Hemingway with a practical kindness that masks a growing concern for his stubborn, ambitious spirit. Agnes is compassionate and capable, but she also carries a cautious awareness of the dangers of romance in a time of so much upheaval. Her presence in Hemingway’s hospital room becomes a counterpoint to his impulsive bravado; she offers steadiness when the world feels reckless, and she sets boundaries that will later test the closeness they feel.

On the first night in the hospital, Hemingway, shaken and delirious, blurts out a confession that will haunt both of them: > “I love you. Let’s get married.” The moment is raw and unguarded, a sudden eruption of feeling that reveals how quickly affection can bloom in the crucible of pain and recovery. The admission unsettles Agnes as much as it reassures him, because it ties their fates together in a way neither fully intends or can easily control. As Hemingway’s health deteriorates at first, doctors work to save his leg from what they fear could be gangrene, and a successful operation becomes the turning point that allows him to begin rebuilding his strength.

As Hemingway recovers, the pair grow closer, and a shared dependence deepens into something warmer and more complicated. Agnes experiences a growing attachment, even as she remains mindful of the gap in their ages and the unpredictability of their future amid the war. The connection is palpable, a freighted blend of care, desire, and perhaps a longing for ordinary life that seems almost out of reach when the front lines shift and the day-to-day urgency never fully subsides. The hospital’s walls keep their conversations intimate, even as the outside world presses forward with new orders and new risks.

When Agnes and several other nurses are moved closer to the front, she cannot face Hemingway with the news in person and entrusts a friend with the painful message. Hemingway, later working amid the chaos of the front, writes back with longing, and when orders finally come to return to the United States, he clings to the hope of seeing her again. He asks her to meet at a nearby hotel to spend their remaining time together and to promise to exchange daily letters, creating a fragile but steadfast plan to sustain what they have begun.

The story takes a darker turn when Agnes spends a weekend with Dr. Domenico Caracciolo, a physician who harbors feelings for her. The holiday, shared with the doctor near the romantic backdrop of Venice, unsettles Hemingway and unsettles their fragile arrangement. The visit underscores the vulnerability of their relationship: love still lags behind the relentless pressures of history, distance, and the ethical lines they are navigating. After this interlude, the letters from Agnes become less frequent, leaving Hemingway with a growing unease and a sense that their path may be diverging.

Eventually, Agnes makes a difficult decision and writes to end their relationship, partly because of the age difference and partly because the realities of their world make a future together seem uncertain. Hemingway is devastated, his pride and longing colliding with the ache of unfulfilled promises. The distance between them widens, and the emotional wound lingers as he continues to live with the wars he cannot escape and the memories of someone who once offered a fragile possibility of happiness.

Months later, in New York, Agnes crosses paths with an old friend and former patient, and she confronts the truth about her past with Hemingway. She travels to Hemingway’s family cabin on Walloon Lake, carrying the unresolved tension between them like a quiet ache she cannot fully quiet. Hemingway, still scarred by the fight he has fought against memory and distance, remains wary and defensive, unable to completely open himself to forgiveness or a renewed sense of hope.

In the final moments, with the lake and the cabin as silent witnesses, Agnes finds Hemingway again, and despite the anger that lingers, she tells him she loves him one last time as she leaves the cabin—an act of honesty and yearning that refuses to be erased by time or circumstance. The film closes on this quiet, poignant confession, a reminder that love can endure even when it cannot survive the pressures of war, distance, and the choices that life exacts.

• I love you.

• I love you.