Stanwyck’s Fatal Phone Call: ‘Sorry, Wrong Number’ 1948

Barbara Stanwyck, A+ in an atypical role, as a weak, wealthy woman, who overhears
a plan for murder, in 1948's film noir suspense film, "Sorry, Wrong Number."

*Spoiler alerts ahead*

The 1948 movie version of Sorry, Wrong Number caused some criticism with some critics and film fans at the time—and even thereafter. It was adapted from an instant classic radio play by Lucille Fletcher. The star was Agnes Moorehead as a rich hypochondriac who overhears a phone conversation of a plot to commit murder that very night. It then turns out she is to be the victim! The radio play was a one-character show, offering a tour de force for Moorehead. 

When Paramount and Hal Wallis snapped up the film rights, casting a star name was standard to carry a movie. I think a number of mature actresses could have been great in the role, but Hal picked one of his favorites, Barbara Stanwyck.

The gradual unraveling of Leona Stevenson when she realizes that she is to be a
 murder victim is superbly played by Barbara Stanwyck in "Sorry, Wrong Number."

Since then, there’s been a bit of a bias against the movie version, favoring the radio play. It goes something like this: Hollywood buys the rights of the half hour play, casts a big movie star and pads it out to 90 minutes. But the play is far superior, in less time, don’t you know. This is why I never bothered to see the film version of Sorry, Wrong Number until recently.

Agnes Moorehead, who originated the role of Leona Stevenson
for radio, in "Sorry, Wrong Number."

I get the criticism, but I still prefer the film. I'm not of the school that Agnes Moorehead was robbed and that the movie version was watered down because it was fleshed out to 90 minutes. (Playwright Fletcher also wrote the movie screenplay). Aggie was a great actress, but listening to her become increasingly hysterical, with her naturally querulous voice escalating, was more grating than great, for me. Agnes won much praise for her supporting scenes as a nympho neurotic in Dark Passage the year before, but Moorehead’s few scenes were plenty for me. I can’t imagine 90 minutes of Agnes’ overstated shrillness front and center. I much preferred Barbara Stanwyck’s contrasting understatement. The back story brought Sorry, Wrong Number to just shy of 90 minutes, which was just right, typical for a noir thriller.

Barbara Stanwyck was a no-nonsense woman who usually played strong characters, is quite good in the role of an unsympathetic, spoiled daddy's girl. Stanwyck's innate likability makes Leona Stevenson more empathetic, despite the fact the character is basically a royal pain. Stanwyck was one of the acting greats of her era and goes from imperious to insecure to incoherent with fear and helplessness, all without overacting. 

By the finale of 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number," Barbara Stanwyck's spoiled
rich matron is at the end of her tether--and soon, her life!

The movie is filled out with flashbacks of Leona and her bought and paid for husband Henry's relationship. There, the tough side of Stanwyck as Leona fits Barbara like a glove. Their courtship and relationship is skillfully depicted, especially as the marriage deteriorates. Henry wants to make his own way, working for her father, while the father and daughter both want a docile pet. This causes Henry to eventually take drastic action, as he gets mixed up with unsavory characters that end up calling in to collect on their favors to him. Henry has to take drastic action, putting a hit out on his wife.

A flashback scene of the woman used to getting what she wants is more familiar
 Barbara Stanwyck territory, in 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number."

The scenes of Barbara’s deluxe lifestyle is intermingled with her father’s crude depiction of wealth and the drug dealing criminals husband Henry gets mixed up with, which is depicted in jarring film noir style.

The cast is terrific, from Stanwyck, down to Ed Begley, Sr. playing her tough dad, to William Conrad as a chilling baddie, and Ann Richards as Henry's good-hearted former girlfriend. Burt Lancaster is well-cast, since he could be strong or shady, though this isn’t the kind of role that makes for a great leading man. A bit like when Kirk Douglas played Barbara Stanwyck’s even weaker bought husband in 1946’s The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Both Burt and Kirk soon got away from supporting film divas as weasels and driving in their own movie vehicles.

Burt Lancaster, in one of his early roles, as the trophy husband for rich girl
Barbara Stanwyck in 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number."

The film version of Sorry, Wrong Number is extremely stylish, right from the opening credits, and you are sucked right in. At the end, as the noisy city train roars by, when Leona is killed in her luxury apartment, is another statement of lifestyles juxtaposed against one another.

The 1948 film version of "Sorry, Wrong Number" is stylish suspense right from
the opening credits!

Sorry, Wrong Number has had various TV versions starring such diverse actors as Mildred Natwick, Shelley Winters, and Loni Anderson! Geraldine Page would have been great as the high-strung heiress in the ‘60s or early ‘70s.

The direction by Anatole Litvak is strong, and he would direct Olivia de Havilland in The Snake Pit the same year. The cinematography by Sol Polito is perfect for a film noir suspense film, as stylish as his work in 1940’s The Letter with Bette Davis. The score by Franz Waxman is powerful and dramatic, elevating the suspense. Edith Head, a designer fave of Stanwyck’s, heightens the storytelling with Barbara’s gowns depicting youth and wealth in the flashback scenes, and her expensive but fussy-looking dressing gown as the bedridden matron.

Barbara Stanwyck as the younger Leona, dressed in soft ermine, against a childhood
portrait of herself, in 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number."

The main set, with Leona’s whining following all the way down the winding stairs, past the servants’ rooms, to the foyer, and the kitchen, all depicting an expensive lifestyle, but no signs of life.

In the finale, in true noir style, the married couple let their guard down during the final phone call. But it’s too late, the plan is put into action, and the chilling final line is the title of this movie!

Here’s my look at the more charming side of Barbara Stanwyck, in 1945’s holiday favorite, Christmas in Connecticut: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2017/12/christmas-in-connecticut-1945.html

 

Interesting moment in 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number," when Barbara Stanwyck's spoiled rich woman catches herself in a rare moment of seeing her actual self.

Bogie & Bacall's Chemistry Brings Depth to ‘Dark Passage’ 1947

 

Humphrey Bogart & Lauren Bacall in 1947's "Dark Passage," the duo's third film.

The 1947 WB film noir Dark Passage is highly entertaining, but the whirlwind story is filled with back to back coincidences and chatty supporting characters. The movie will leave you breathless but unbelieving at what has cartoonishly transpired.

Convict Vincent Parry (Bogart) is determined not to rot in San Quentin, and escapes to find the real killer of his wife. From the get go, Parry’s path is filled with the most convenient coincidences. The stacked deck plot specifically comes from nosy people who go way out of their way to aid or deter Bogie’s escapee. 

After escaping in the back of a prison truck, Parry is later picked up by a grinning goon, who gives him the third degree from the moment Parry gets in his car. It doesn’t help that Bogie's wearing only a sleeveless undershirt (he's no Gable), prison work pants, and muddy shoes. After the radio announcer conveniently reveals his identity and the tell-tale details, they tussle from the car and Bogie drags him into the roadside bushes. 

Bogie's convict has the misfortune of being picked up by this goon, in "Dark Passage."

After Bogie takes the driver’s clothes, who comes along but Lauren Bacall? As Irene Jansen, she's an artist who just happened to be out painting landscapes. Jansen just happened to hear about the escape, just happened to be driving by, and just happened to be a champion of Parry, when he was getting raked over the coals by the press during his murder trial. The "just happened" trope is a constant throughout this flick. As stylish and adult as Dark Passage plays, I rolled my eyes more than a few times at the blizzard of coincidences!

Look who happened to be out painting landscapes while a convict escapes?
Lauren Bacall finds Humphrey Bogart in the bushes in "Dark Passage."

Jansen smuggles Parry back to her stylish Deco apartment building (which still stands on San Francisco’s Montgomery Street). It turns out Irene’s interest in his case stems from her own father's murder trial of his wife. While Irene goes out for a new suit for Parry, her nosy friend Madge knocks on the door. Turns out that her testimony is what got Parry imprisoned—small world. Madge, a vision in leopard skin, pounds on the door but gives up, yet is suspicious. In one of several dumb moves, Parry raises the blind to look at her, and she stares back, twice!

All spiffed up courtesy of Irene, Parry decides to get plastic surgery, on a tip from a very gabby cab driver, who takes his cause for no good reason. Parry looks up an old buddy for post-surgery shelter, as he doesn't want to impose further on Irene. George, a musician, knew Parry’s wife, as well as Madge, who he despises. 

Off to the plastic surgeon, who likes to yak as much as the cab driver, and looks like he's been preserved in alcohol! The doc’s a guy who you wouldn't let give you a shave, much less slice your face. Once anesthetized, Parry has a drugged nightmare worthy of a William Castle thriller. Afterward, the doc gives him a list of detailed care instructions. The good news is that the surgeon reassures Bogie he can still drink and smoke.

Would you let this guy give you a shave, much less plastic surgery? "Dark Passage."

Bogie looks quite unflattering in his bandaged state, big woeful eyes, and thin face and lips—kind of like a Chihuahua, post-cosmetic surgery! Parry gets back to his pal's only to find he's been murdered, with the musician’s horn. Natch, Parry handles the instrument, leaves prints, and flees. 

Rumor has it that Jack Warner was unhappy that his top star was only heard the
first third of "Dark Passage," and looked like this for the middle of the film!

Not at all conspicuous climbing up multiple fights of steep stairs in San Francisco, he passes out when he reaches Irene's. Under her tender care, she is totally in love at this point, despite his being the suspect of murder #2. Their lovey-dovey convalescence is interrupted by an unexpected visit by Madge. She's panicked by Parry being on the loose (who's hiding in Irene's bedroom.) Madge shrilly insists that she stay with Irene, who couldn't be less delighted. Then here comes Bob, Irene's sort of boyfriend. Bob is played by Bruce Bennett in his typical glum style. He too was familiar with Parry's case and unfortunately, Madge.

Bogie's plastic surgery is such a success that he doesn't even have scars or puffiness when Bacall removes the bandages. It is stressed that the surgeon made Bogie look older, good thing since Bogie looked far older than his 47 years! It’s amusing that Parry’s “before” photos in the newspapers outweighs Bogie by about 30 pounds. That prison grub must have been grueling!

Beefy Vincent Parry, before he becomes the beef jerky that is Humphrey Bogart,
in  1947's "Dark Passage."

He no sooner stops at an all-night diner than a cop's suspicions is instantly raised. A chase ensues and Parry hides out at a hotel. Parry's first ride comes knocking, looking for a blackmail payday. Once again car buddies, they tussle once more, where scrawny Bogart dispatches the lunkhead off a steep cliff. That is now murder number #3, though Bogie claims innocence of the suspicious demises of his wife and friend.

Agnes Moorehead as Madge, the cougar dressed in leopard skin, in "Dark Passage." 

Parry goes back to Madge’s to get the truth out of her. With every minor character on their soap box, musing about life, truth, and happiness, there is little time for Agnes Moorehead's monstrous Madge. She appears briefly at Irene's door, then in the middle to barge in and act incredibly annoying, then in the finale, where she pulls out all the stops. As skillful as Agnes is at acting, this feels like a Carol Burnett spoof, rushing through to the climax. Madge falls through a window to her death, and Bogie flees the scene looking totally suspicious. In the finale, Bogie's Parry decides that it's hopeless to try to clear himself of four deaths—good call. So, it's off to Peru to livin’ life incognito!

Involved with four deaths, Bogie's fugitive is off to Peru, in 1947's "Dark Passage."

In a phone call to Bacall’s Irene, detailing how to find him, Bogie's Parry sounds like Morgan Freeman giving Tim Robbins prison-style GPS The Shawshank Redemption. Bogie sips a cocktail in a swanky nightclub, their song comes up, and there’s smiling Lauren Bacall, and the lovebirds dance off into the Peruvian sunset.

Lauren Bacall is more relaxed than in her earlier film outings. Remember, she made her film debut just three years earlier in To Have and Have Not. Here, Bacall is more a sympathetic character and not as snarky. I never thought Bacall had much versatility as an actress, but within that range, she was quite striking. 

Bacall is also quite lovely at just 23. Apparently a trust fund baby as well as Bogie's Baby, Irene paints and teaches children's art classes, which doesn't account for a lovely pad and stylish wardrobe. I liked that while Bacall was quite glam here, her face doesn't look like a mask and her beautiful hair isn't bleached to the nth degree like most Hollywood blondes. She looked real—and really beautiful.

I always found Lauren Bacall one of the more natural glamour girls of the 1940s.
Except for the winged eyebrows, Bacall's style is very contemporary.

I totally get Bogie's sexual appeal and while he looked rather frail and rough when not lavished with soft close-ups (those weren't given just to the ladies), his very expressive eyes, distinctive voice, and charisma made that very clear why 19-year-old Bacall fell for 25 years older Bogie in To Have and Have Not.

After a couple decades of hard living, Bogie began to settle down to a happy marriage
 with Lauren Bacall. At 47, Bogart required a toupee and soft lighting to disguise
his premature aging. From 1947's "Dark Passage."

A more candid shot of Humphrey Bogart, reading "Dark Passage."

Delmer Daves’ direction and writing try to tie up all the loose ends and contrivances, unlike Howard Hawks’ The Big Sleep. But it all feels like warp speed storytelling! Maybe some of those screenwriter-friendly supporting speeches should have been cut.

Bogie, Bacall, and director/screenwriter Delmer Daves look at some film footage.

Some film fans geek out over certain films' techniques and style. While that stuff is enjoyable, the story and the acting are what matter to me. Robert Montgomery’s Lady in the Lake is virtually unwatchable, with the actors overreacting and the constant camera movement over the top. Or Hitchcock’s Spellbound, because of the mostly-deleted Salvador Dali sequences, ignoring the hokey Hitch psychoanalysis. There’s also Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope, a technically handsome production, with its long takes and handsome set. Unfortunately, the stilted story and acting come off like a filmed ‘40s Broadway play. Of all these movies mentioned, Dark Passage pulls off Bogie’s pre-cosmetic surgery POV and post-surgery camera work the most subtly.

Dark Passage is really an exercise in style, with a strong production and cast. If only the film’s story was as authentic as its two iconic stars.

Here's Bogie with another sultry blonde from the same year, my look at Dead Reckoning, with Lizabeth Scott: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2024/10/bogie-lizabeth-scott-in-derivative-dead.html

 

Bogie and Baby, going in for the clinch, in 1947's "Dark Passage."

 

Jane Wyman Lifts ‘The Blue Veil’ 1951

 

Jane Wyman is the governess who wears "The Blue Veil" from 1951.

The Blue Veil is a most straightforward melodrama, a tearjerker tale of a life-long governess, of what was once called a "woman's picture." The 1951 film was released through RKO, a moderate hit in its day with mostly positive reviews, but today is mostly forgotten. This is because there’s nary a good copy to be had and is rarely shown. Whether it’s copyright or estate issues—it’s actually a Norman Krasna and Jerry Wald production—The Blue Veil deserves to be restored.

Jane Wyman as Louise Mason wears the traditional governess/nanny "Blue Veil."
 With Cyril Cusack as the toy store owner who admires "LouLou."

As The Blue Veil takes place over several decades and still clocks in at the standard one hour and forty five minutes, some of the events and especially reactions seem a bit perfunctory. What helps is the cast is populated with old pros, who convey the most with each scene. Yet, it is Jane Wyman's warmth and strength that hold this episodic tearjerker together, and nabbed Wyman a Best Actress Academy Award nomination.

Jane Wyman is a young widow who just finds out her new baby has died,
in 1951's "The Blue Veil." Jane was 34 when this was filmed.

There is the era's "get on with it" attitude toward trauma and life changes evident in The Blue Veil. For example, within the first five minutes, Jane Wyman's Louise Mason goes from a war widow with a baby, to suddenly losing her child, with a doctor who comes in and gives the world's most generic non-explanation, capped with, "…we did all we could for it." Later, a practical employment lady who thinks that Louise should be a nanny ASAP to ease her pain! Likewise, when Louise is eased out from her duties after the widower boss remarries, his new bride asks how many weeks it will take the nanny to teach her everything about caring for the baby. No time for therapy back then!

Jane Wyman as nanny Louise Mason, with her first charge. Charles Laughton is her
 boss and Vivian Vance is his new bride. "The Blue Veil" from 1951.

While the “mother love” storyline can be very sentimental, Jane Wyman's acting is warm, but not sticky sweet. That's why I enjoy Jane in movie soaps. Some movie fans think of Wyman as dull, but I find her acting naturalistic. Especially when shed of glamour, Jane Wyman appeals with those huge doe eyes and soft but firm voice. She suggests deep feeling without the diva posturing so typical of the era. I find Wyman’s acting more in keeping with Barbara Stanwyck and Olivia de Havilland than say, Crawford or Davis. 

The Blue Veil starts after WWI and ends after WWII, so Jane's Louise goes through a series of jobs, with the governess/nanny/nurse in the "blue veil" uniform connecting deeply with several families.

Louise's first charge is Freddie, whose mother died giving birth, almost the reverse of her own situation. The widower is Charles Laughton as Frederick, most appealing as the lonely man, in a rare normal role. Laughton and Wyman have a nice rapport, and the businessman proposes to Louise. She wisely turns him down, feeling two lonely people does not make for a happy marriage. So secretary Vivian Vance soon accepts his proposal instead, and lives the dream of a prosperous businessman's wife. An example of how even-handedly The Blue Veil is told, Vance's character is pragmatic but not a villain. While Wyman’s Louise is saddened by her departure, she made the call, and accepts the situation gracefully.

I love overlap "dissolves"from classic films. Here, Jane Wyman's nurse says goodbye
 to her first child, then shown leaving to find a new job, from "The Blue Veil."

If Wyman's Louise was a young war widow just after WWI, that would put “LouLou” in her early '50s at the post-war end of this film. As Louise starts caring for her last child, each subsequent scene makes her looks older. By the finale, Wyman looks like Margo in Lost Horizon, after she escaped Shangri-La!

At the finale of "The Blue Veil," Jane Wyman's nanny is suppose to be in her early
 '50s, but looks like Helen Hayes in "Airport!"

Next, “LouLou” cares for two boys, the younger especially attached, the sons of a wealthy couple, with Agnes Moorehead in sympathetic mode as Fleur Palfrey. Moorehead acted five times opposite Wyman: Johnny Belinda; The Blue Veil; Magnificent Obsession; All That Heaven Allows; and Pollyanna.

Agnes Moorehead is Jane Wyman's second employer in 1951's "The Blue Veil."

Here, she meets Richard Carlson as the boys’ tutor, Jerry. A warm charmer and dreamer, he wants more than this temporary gig. He gets a teaching job offer in Syria—of a century ago! He wants Louise to run off with him and marry. That Jerry is weak of character shows when he's easily discouraged by Moorehead, then Wyman herself, when they both make valid points of his intentions. On the train, he projects his doubts on Louise, who then calls it off and goes back to her job.

I love this warm romantic scene between Jane Wyman & Richard Carlson in 1951's
 "The Blue Veil."

Some time elapses when Louise now takes care of the daughter of Annie Rawlins, an aging musical stage star. Her daughter Stephanie, played by 12 year old Natalie Wood, adores Louise. As is usually the case, the child becomes attached to doting nanny LouLou. Annie is good-hearted but thoughtless and often a no-show at her daughter's big life moments. When Stephanie calls Louise her mother at her confirmation, the nanny lets her mother know that it’s best to leave. This sets up a major tearjerker scene, when Louise tells Stephanie she has to go. Wyman and Blondell were old pros by this point and play with their typical naturalism. Wood is remarkable as the disappointed daughter and plays her big scene, begging Louise stay, quite movingly.

Tearjerker scene from "The Blue Veil," when Jane Wyman's governess realizes it's time to move on. Young Natalie Wood as her charge & Joan Blondell as the mother.

Natalie Wood was 12 when she made "The Blue Veil."
She is quite good as the girl who becomes attached to Wyman's nanny.

I was a bit surprised that Blondell got a supporting actress Oscar nomination for The Blue Veil. Her role is brief as the good natured broad, and she isn't doing anything new. Yet, she got no nods for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn or Nightmare Alley, in roles that were bigger and juicier. But that's Hollywood, where some very strange Oscar nominations and wins were awarded in the ‘50s. Gloria Grahame in The Bad and the Beautiful and Jan Sterling and Claire Trevor for The High and the Mighty come to mind.

Dan O'Herlihy & Audrey Totter play a young couple who go to England during WWII,
 leaving their baby boy with Jane Wyman's dependable nanny, in "The Blue Veil."

Louise's last stint as nanny comes for Helen and Hugh Williams, played by Audrey Totter and Dan O'Herlihy. They have a baby boy, Tony, and LouLou fits right in. Then British hubby Hugh is called off to war. When he is reported missing, Lulu holds down the fort while Helen goes off to find him. He is wounded and later dies, and she stays on for the war's duration. After the war, Helen stays on, for very vague reasons. By this time, Lulu is caring for Tony for free, even working to support him! While Lulu has taken care not to become too attached to her charges in the past, this time she does. When Helen finally returns, the boy is a grade-schooler playing baseball. Lulu attempts to run off with Tony, but is found. Totter’s Helen now has bulldog husband Henry Morgan in tow, who wants to press charges. But the district attorney shames them for their lack of communication, appreciation, or payment. Louise is heartbroken when they leave with Tony.

Have a hanky handy when Audrey Totter's Helen comes back nearly a decade later
for her son, in the care of Jane Wyman's nanny, from 1951's "The Blue Veil."

By this time, Louise is looking like and acting like a latter day Madame X, but having had none of her fun! Along the way, Louise turns down a third offer of marriage, from irascible but good guy Frank (Cyril Cusack), who owns a toy store that she frequents for her charges. Unfortunately, he dies of a heart attack when the police come looking for Louise.

Jane Wyman's nanny is now an elementary school janitor in 1951's "The Blue Veil."

Louise winds up as a janitor at an elementary school, to be near children. Today, she'd probably be pegged as a predator, but that's another discussion! Going home one day, she nearly steps out in front of a car, but is saved. At an eye doctor for a checkup, he turns out to be her second charge, Robbie Palfrey, who was once afraid of storms. Unbeknownst to Lulu, he arranges a dinner for her and her previous kiddos. With their spouses, they enjoy a lovely reunion, with Robbie announcing he wants Lulu to care for his own children. At this point, you will have used up a box of tissues!

Jane Wyman's "LouLou" is asked to be nanny to her one-time charge's children in
the finale of 1951's "The Blue Veil."

One of Jane Wyman’s smaller films, like the likewise underrated So Big, The Blue Veil is a straight up soap, but played with genuine feeling. Director Curtis Bernhardt, who made his name at WB, did well with actors and keeps this movie moving along smoothly. The Blue Veil feels more like a ‘40s movie in the increasingly modern ‘50s film world, but if you’re in the mood for cinema suffering with an uplifting finale, Wyman and a stellar cast are worth watching.

Here’s my look at one of Jane Wyman’s best latter day roles, in Douglas Sirk’s All That Heaven Allows, with Rock Hudson: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2020/10/all-that-heaven-allows-1955.html

A stellar cast is a bonus in 1951's "The Blue Veil," but Jane Wyman's performance as
 Louise Mason, a nanny for over three decades, holds this film together.

 

“Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte” Still Chills 1964

Bette Davis & Olivia de Havilland go head to head in 1964's southern gothic
suspense film, "Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."

Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte was a follow-up to the surprise 1962 smash, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? While Baby Jane was aptly released that Halloween, Charlotte oddly opened during the 1964 Christmas season. Both fright films got mostly good reviews and made money, but Baby Jane was the one that stayed fixed in movie fans’ memories, with its comic horror look at Hollywood. Still, Charlotte succeeds as a straight-up southern gothic suspense film. While there are numerous similarities to Baby Jane, Charlotte also has some surprises.

"Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte" was the 4th and last film that Olivia de Havilland &
 Bette Davis co-starred together.

Aside from the twisty tale, the top drawer cast really puts Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte over. Bette Davis, as Charlotte Hollis, gets a raucous role to sink her teeth into. Davis’ son, Michael Merrill, said that she initially didn’t want to play another hag horror role and thought the script was too gruesome. Even after Baby Jane, work and money for 50-something female stars were scarce, so Bette accepted Charlotte.

Victor Buono's a big daddy indeed, as Sam Hollis, who wants to make sure daughter
 Bette Davis doesn't become a Jezebel! 1964's "Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."

Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte starts with a prologue in 1927 at the Hollis family mansion. Patriarch Sam Hollis is raging at John Mayhew, a married man who’s having an affair with his young daughter, Charlotte. After some wrangling, John agrees to end it. At a ball in the Hollis mansion, Charlotte’s married lover meets her at the “summer” house. She doesn’t take the news well, despite John’s claims that he did love her. Moments later, someone comes back. John thinks its Charlotte and whoever the visitor is, they brought a cleaver that’s been used to open champagne cases. The ball comes to a halt when Charlotte reappears with blood on her white ball gown. Though she is never charged, everyone assumes that Charlotte butchered John Mayhew. Cut to present day 1964, with eccentric Charlotte fighting the authorities over moving out of the family manse, to make way for highway construction. When Charlotte’s Cousin Miriam comes to help, it’s an even bumpier ride.

Bruce Dern's characters suffered grisly flashback demises in both 1964's
"Marnie" & "Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte." 

Young Charlotte's reputation is forever stained by the suspicion of murder of
John Mayhew, in 1964's "Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."

While Bette Davis doesn’t hold back portraying Charlotte’s pepper pot personality, she has subtle moments too, such as scenes with a curious reporter, played by Cecil Kellaway. The same is true of Agnes Moorehead as brash but devoted maid Velma. Moorehead is truly outrageous in some scenes, especially when she spars with Charlotte’s villains. Agnes has sly silent moments as well as sincere ones, like when Velma aims to look out for Charlotte’s welfare. The veteran character actress makes the most of her over the top role and got a well-deserved Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination, and winning a supporting Golden Globe.

Agnes Moorehead has a field day as fiesty housekeeper Velma, in 1964's
"Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."

As Cousin Miriam, Olivia de Havilland makes one smooth villain. As the poor relation taken in as a child by the Hollis family, Miriam returns at Charlotte’s behest. Olivia’s honeyed gentility and wide-eyed concern harkens back to her classic role as Melanie in Gone with the Wind. Except this time, her southern cousin IS too good to be true. One of Olivia’s few bad girl roles, she’s quite intriguing, and only goes over the top like her other female co-stars when Miriam shows her hand—sometimes literally!

Olivia de Havilland plays "sweet" Cousin Miriam in "Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."

Barbara Stanwyck said that she was never asked to play Miriam, as sometimes written, but was requested to play Jewel Mayhew, John’s wife. Which Stanwyck turned down, as the part consisted of two scenes. In this cameo role, Mary Astor as Jewel is mesmerizing. Mary plays a dying woman in her final acting job, and plays the role simply and hauntingly. Mary’s encounter with Olivia is zingy, and her long scene with Kellaway is melancholy. Astor makes every moment count.

Mary Astor is superb in her cameo role as Jewel Mayhew, the wife of Charlotte's
slain lover. From 1964's Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."

There are several encore actors from Baby Jane: Victor Buono plays Charlotte’s imposing Big Daddy, Sam Hollis; Wesley Addy—Blanche Hudson’s “nice Dr. Shelby”—is the sheriff who must deal with cranky Charlotte; and Dave Willock, Baby Jane’s beloved daddy, is the cab driver who brings Miriam back to the scene of the crime.

Joseph Cotten was the original Dr. Drew! He's Charlotte's doc and Miriam's ex-suitor
 in 1964's "Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."

Joseph Cotten offers his smooth southern charm, played with laconic humor, as Drew Bayliss, Charlotte’s doctor and Miriam’s former beau. Cotton co-starred with Bette Davis 15 years earlier, in her WB swan song, Beyond the Forest. George Kennedy just tangled with Crawford in Strait-Jacket, and does the same as head demolition guy in Hollisport. Bruce Dern plays John Mayhew, Charlotte’s married beau, in the prologue. Later, he’d work again with Davis, as one her criminal sons, in a very special Gunsmoke episode. Cecil Kellaway’s gentle scene stealing offers contrast to some of the ladies and their scenery chewing. And look for John Megna (Dill from To Kill a Mockingbird) as the new kid who’s dared to go inside outcast Charlotte Hollis’ mansion. Lillian Randolph, the beloved Annie of It’s a Wonderful Life, is one of the packing ladies; squeaky-voiced Percy Felton is the funeral director; The Waltons Ellen Corby and Helen Kleeb are local gossips; and Frank Ferguson plays the local newspaper editor, while he was playing Eli Carson on TV’s Peyton Place.

Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte has the same upsides and downsides as Baby Jane. On the plus side, the cast is uniformly good, the story entertaining, and the production values strong. The debit side is mostly director Robert Aldrich’s weak points. While he’s a strong storyteller at his best, Aldrich’s tendency to overstatement causes Charlotte to run 2 and ¼ hours, and like Baby Jane, about 15 minutes too long. Both movies have entertaining but lengthy prologues and drag a bit in the last half. Both thrillers have some plot points that don’t bear scrutiny. Also, both movies have theme songs that get reprised one time too many!

Cecil Kellaway as a curious reporter & Bette Davis as Charlotte share some subtle moments in "Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."

Among the other similarities between Charlotte and Baby Jane: Prologues that get a kicker in the films’ finales; two outspoken housekeepers; Bette as a disturbed daughter with daddy issues; Davis’ antagonists are charming phonies; dead bodies that must be disposed of; and Charlotte and Jane’s last scenes are of them being gawked at by onlookers.

Charlotte and Baby Jane were made in the early ‘60s, when there was the last vestige of film glamour versus plot sense. In Jane, Joan Crawford’s invalid Blanche still has lovely nail polish and lipstick despite having been a recluse for three decades. In Charlotte, after Bette Davis bravely threw down the glamour gauntlet as bizarre Baby Jane, is this time out the star that sneaks in a little glam for her aging Jezebel. Though Charlotte Hollis has seen only the maid and her doc for the last 35 plus years, she still sports makeup mortician Gene Hibbs’ war paint. And wears high heels, when not running around barefoot sporting a nightie and a shotgun! If only Bette had sported a more authentic no-makeup look like co-star Mary Astor. But then, maybe that’s why Bette was playing the title role and Astor had a two-scene cameo. Interestingly, Olivia de Havilland shows her Paris way of life in her own Dior wardrobe and chic bouffant, plus makeup that stays inside the lines of her facial features!

"I thought this Gene Hibbs makeup was supposed to make me look younger!"

Much has been made of Joan Crawford’s departure from Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte. I’ll only say that Joan could have played the silky villain with assurance and style. In fact, Crawford played a number of charismatic, insincere types for nearly 15 years before Charlotte. Who knows whether Joan left because she was genuinely sick or just sick of sparring with Bette Davis. Crawford claimed illness in another tense situation nearly two decades before, on Oscar night of 1946, with similar speculation. What’s unfortunate is that some Joan fans take out their ire on Olivia, who was a reluctant last minute replacement. Crawford probably would have played in a grander style, closer to Bette and Agnes’ performances. But Olivia’s casting against type, as a cool villain is its own fun.

Joan Crawford was to play Cousin Miriam but claimed illness and dropped out.

Was this the sparkly dress that Olivia's Miriam found slashed in the closet?

Trivia: Was the sparkly dress that Olivia’s Miriam finds slashed in her closet the one that Joan’s Miriam wore for the homecoming dinner scene? Also, I found it amusing that Bette, who liked to slap co-stars as much as Joan did, chickened out in the car scene where Miriam drops her mask. Though new Miriam Olivia was a long-time friend and co-star, Bette asked that her slaps be faked, and it shows! Finally, while a younger double is used for Charlotte, why on earth did they use Bette’s 60-ish cigarette voice, where she attempted to sound younger?

And typical of the mid-century moviemaking, the flashback scene of a ‘20s party looks like a ‘60s prom with a flapper theme. Also unfortunate is that the only blood on Charlotte’s dress is on her lap area! At least the other girls didn’t throw tampons at her, like Carrie!

The story/script by Henry Farrell and Lukas is most clever, despite some holes in logic. The music by DeVol is atmospheric, and Joseph Biroc’s wonderful cinematography is striking and truly adds to the mood. Also, I’ve visited one of the two Louisiana’s mansions featured in Charlotte. Miriam’s home is actually Oak Alley Plantation and it is stunning.

Mary Astor as Jewel, with a the reporter, played by Cecil Kellaway. Jewel's home is
 represented by the Oak Alley plantation. "Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."

Here’s my take on the legendary Baby Jane! https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2016/10/bette-and-joans-acting-duel-whatever.html

Here’s the one other time Olivia played evil, in The Dark Mirror! https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2023/07/10-takeaways-olivia-de-havilland-dark.html 

Bette Davis & Olivia de Havilland aren't exactly kissin' cousins in 1964's
"Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte."