Reviewed by Glenn Erickson
Robert Aldrich's Grand Dame Guignol followup to What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? is
quite a shocker for an upscale 1964 Hollywood picture. What it lacks in credibility or subtlety,
it makes up in high-powered gore and taut suspense - at least the first time around. For repeat
viewings, the able histrionics of Ms. Davis and company can be appreciated for their basic
professionalism - it's just plain fun seeing an Oscar-winning great lady like Olivia de Havilland
deal with a severed head and dispose of a corpse in a swamp.
Synopsis:
1964. Charlottte Hollis (Bette Davis) has lived for almost forty years as a recluse
in her father's Louisiana mansion. In 1927, she was the leading suspect in the beheading
murder of her lover John Mayhew (Bruce Dern), a married man. Now road builders want Charlotte
out of the house and Charlotte's 'poor relation' cousin Miriam Deering (Olivia de Havilland) and
doctor/friend Drew Bayliss (Joseph Cotten) have come to try to get her to surrender the property
without more embarrassing scenes. But Charlotte is experiencing weird hallucinations that focus
on the legendary crime; and most of the parish already thinks she's insane.
Robert Aldrich's career had been a rocky one before he got smart with his
"battle of the battle-axes" Hollywood Gothic What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? That film
enhanced the new respectability given the horror film by Psycho by introducing a broad
element of self-referential humor. Bette Davis and Joan Crawford played fictional roles but
the film teased us with the notion that Baby Jane also represented a real feud between
bitter enemies. In 1962 both Davis and Crawford were still in total possession of their
acting skills, and the movie invented 'hag horror' by encouraging them to send up their
glamorous images with a show of grotesquerie.
Smelling a gold mine, Aldrich and his key writer Lukas Heller tried to repeat their winning
formula but Joan Crawford
backed out in the middle of production, forcing a replacement in the person of Olivia de Havilland.
What the quasi-sequel Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte gives up by losing Crawford, it gains
in freshness. de Havilland's saccharine Miriam Deering plays off her image as the sweet Melanie
Wilkes from Gone with the Wind, giving the bloody murder story a charge all its own.
Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte needs the star power because as a thriller it really isn't
all that special. Big parts of the story are cribbed from Baby Jane and H. G. Clouzot's
Les Diaboliqes, and the creepy murder plot is a lengthy succession of red herring characters
and illogical (or impossible) conspiratorial maneuverings by the bad guys. The slowly paced film is
far too long and the script reinforces every plot point and expository fact not once but at least
two or three times. Aldrich's suspense technique almost guarantees the film won't be frightening
on a second viewing ... every other scene is a drawn-out
tease, waiting for murderous attacks that never seem to happen. Even after the carnage kicks into
high gear, nothing is allowed to be implied or presumed -- the talky script covers every point as
if Sweet Charlotte were a radio show.
That doesn't mean that the film is dull, especially not the first time through. Davis and
de Havilland do wonders in keeping their characters interesting and mysterious, no matter how literal
or illogical the writing. 1
Davis puts a lot of effort into Charlotte's various mental states and retains the sympathy of the
audience despite many unlikeable acts -- threatening construction workers, flying off the handle
whenever she's contradicted, etc.. Olivia de Havilland seems sincerely concerned and maintains
a credible potential for being a misunderstood 'good guy' all the way until the third act.
Aldrich also populates the film with a great supporting cast. Everyone loves the sassy antics of
Agnes Moorehead as the unbelievably frowsy housekeeper, Velma. Victor Buono and Bruce Dern are
suitably creepy. Wesley Addy is a friendly sheriff and Mary Astor (in her last film) appears as
a tired woman at the end of a lifetime of suffering. Best of all is the film's most prominent red
herring, an amateur investigator played by Cecil Kellaway. He's eventually revealed as a foundation
of civility, and almost becomes a romantic possibility for Bette Davis.
No wonder Joan Crawford went to such extremes to get out of Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte --
the film not only redeems the Charlotte character, it makes her into a Guignol heroine.
There were plenty of cheap gory films in 1964 but audiences for 'quality' films weren't all that
used to seeing
severed limbs and rotting corpses on the stairs, or weird nightmare scenes with masked dancers
surrounding a girl with an obscene bloodstain on her dress. The story wisely loads its
gore right up front, leaving nervous viewers to wait in constant suspense for the violence
to return. Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte is less interesting - and nowhere near as
deliciously sick - as Baby Jane, yet it still holds its own as a classy Gothic murder
story. Critics in 1964 basically thought it was trash, but the Academy was suitably impressed -
Charlotte received a bundle of nominations, although it took none home. 2
Fox's Studio Classics DVD of Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte is a handsome enhanced
copy of this moody B&W shocker and its first presentation on video in a proper aspect ratio.
The crisp audio track showcases Frank DeVol's score, including the popular title tune that became
a radio hit when sung by Patti Page.
The extras include a teaser, a trailer and three television spots. The commentary is by the writer
of this review. Speaking about a single film for 133 minutes was quite a challenge, and anyone
willing to sit through the commentary will get not only a production rundown on the movie but mini
bios on most of the cast and a lot of analysis of the film from the POV of its director, its
place in the history of horror movies, and the 60s phenomena of horror films starring big-time
actresses past their career primes.
Fox's Studio Classics-style cover illustration shows both leading ladies in a neutral
pose, giving no hint whatsoever that a horror movie is hidden inside. The package text equates
unsightly old age with horror by calling Agnes Moorehead's Velma "the scariest inhabitant of all."
With youth culture more exaggerated than ever, any show with people who don't look like
magazine-cover idols now probably qualifies as horror.
On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor,
Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte rates:
Movie: Very Good
Video: Excellent
Sound: Excellent
Supplements: trailer, teaser, TV spots, and audio commentary by 'film historian'
Glenn Erickson
Packaging: Keep case
Reviewed: July 18, 2005
Footnote:
1. (spoiler) For instance,
why the heck would Miriam Deering try to approach Jewel Mayhew (Mary Astor) as a friend, when they've
have been in a murderously adversarial blackmail relationship for 35 years? For whom is Miriam
grandstanding? That's just one of a half-dozen scenes that on a second viewing seem like a cheat.
Why do Dr. Drew and Miriam go through all the difficulty of their last grand charade to drive
Charlotte over the edge? Everyone believes Charlotte to be crazy already. Wouldn't it be easier
just to frame her for murder?
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2. Great Film Detective Work from Dewey Webb, 8.10.05:
Hi! As a longtime Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte fan, I
was hoping your commentary would shed some light on the scene where Miriam arrives at the
plantation. If you slow-motion the the overhead (balcony) shot where the taxi pulls up in
front of the plantation, it is clear that the passenger in the back seat is NOT de Havilland.
The woman in the back seat is wearing an outfit in completely different contrasting colors
than de Havilland and, while it's difficult to tell for sure, appears to be wearing sunglasses
and with a more upswept hairdo. The costume the person in the taxi is wearing appears to be
similar outfit to one Joan Crawford is seen wearing in some on-set publicity photos before
she left the film. (From all available evidence, all Miriam's costumes were redesigned after
Crawford left. Makes sense.) My guess is that the person seen in this shot is actually
Crawford (or, at the very least, her stand-in), which means that Crawford may well make an
appearance in the film after all. Any thoughts? Dewey Webb
That's sharp observation, Mr. Webb ... the possibility of that never occurred to me, not
for a moment. It
makes perfect sense, as de Havilland never went to Louisiana and Crawford might have (your
double idea makes sense too).
I think a lot of shots with Agnes Moorehead were shot by themselves, early, to get her
out of the way when the production was delayed. That's why we only see her observing from afar
when Davis meets Kellaway, etc. Moorehead at some point presumably had to go do her work on
Bewitched, which hit TV that fall of '64.
Yes, sorry I didn't catch that and impressed that you did! I'm going to add your note to
the review ... Thank you, Glenn Erickson
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