Despite the nominal importance placed on the eponymous bridges being photographed for National Geographic by Robert Kincaid (Eastwood), the film largely lacks any natural vistas. Instead, the plains feel bordered within the frame, their expanse made constrictive.
— Jake Cole (Slant Magazine)
As long as [Streep and Eastwood] are on the screen, one can forget the treacle that placed them there; their first moment of physical contact is exquisite and unforgettable, and the film as a whole makes a plausible conservative argument for adultery as a preserver of marriage. A flashback structure involving the housewife’s two kids and suggesting Wuthering Heights only fitfully transcends the Reader’s Digest aura this movie is so eager to honor and justify.
As in any great women’s picture, Robert’s arrival doesn’t create Francesca’s crisis, it exposes it—a narrative fact revealed casually with Streep’s first line.
— Chris Wisnlewski (Reverse Shot)