clivechristy-549-202969 The only thing this movie lacks is vivid technicolor to truly capture La Crawford stomping through scenes and chewing up the scenery..and also to see how green around the gills Joan was from her heavy drinking. Joan Crawford is the movie, and although Betsy Palmer does her best to keep a few scenes for herself, it's all Joan all the time. Joan is Eva, and evil and loves it. She is married to battle scarred Barry Sullivan who is a lush, and she rules over the family terrorizing each one of them in her own special way, and in a way specifically tailored to torment them the most. She is nothing, if not thoughtful. There is no point going into the details because the best part of the film is the unfolding of each layer, and the unraveling of Eva's life. It's film noir at the apotheosis of camp, but it's also clever and knows it has a story to tell. Joan Crawford at this juncture of her career had segued into a film noir queen after her win with Mildred Pierce. This little tale has a few things in common with Mildred,but not what you might expect. In Mildred Pierce we are encouraged to pity Mildred and understand that she was in an untenable situation, and was the real victim. There is nothing endearing about Eva at all, and it is intended that the audience will hate Eva hard. The connections between characters are not accidental because Randald MacDougall wrote the screenplay for both films. He certainly knew his Joan. She infamously had an affair with John Ireland during the making of the film, and many years later they were cast again in a William Castle film, "I Saw What You Did." In the final spasms of her career Crawford (and Bette Davis) were cast as horror hags, and this film is on the cusp of that descent. This film is also on the cusp of another of Crawford's well known descents...that of the drunk. It was probably best the film was shot in black and white because Joan looks hard faced in black and white and all the lighting men in Hollywood couldn't soften that. Having said all that, this film is fascinating because this film doesn't star Joan Crawford, it IS Joan Crawford. Christina Crawford said famously that Joan hated it, likely because it was too close to the bone and doubtless damaged the image and cultish personality she had fabricated and enhanced since the 30's. Christina Crawford suggests that the film showed who Joan was in reality, and there was no acting at all. For that reason this movie is as close to cinema verite as Joan Crawford would likely have flown. If Joan and Christina both hated, I have to love it. The other reason I love this film is because it is so ridiculous; so overblown; so over acted and so melodramatic that it screams for attention (and surprisingly without a southern accent.) This movie is best viewed in jodhpurs with a riding crop and a LOT of booze...why? Well it's the way Joanie would have wanted you to see it.

writers_reign I remember stumbling on this several years ago and admiring Barry Sullivan's dialogue, both the dialogue itself and the way Sullivan delivered it. Although one line that stayed in my mind appears to be missing I still get a kick out of Sullivan's dialogue and even John Ireleand, a graduate of the Charlton Heston Redwood School Of Acting, weighs in with a half decent performance and handles a couple of Sullivan left-over zingers with something approaching style. They are, of course, merely the hors d'ouevres, setting up the palate for the caviar that is Joan Crawford and arguably the best example of late-blooming Crawford on celluloid. Although we're smack dab in the middle of decaying magnolia country no one makes much of a stab at a Southern accent but almost everyone makes a decent fist of this out-and-out meller.

janiceferrero A guilty pleasure if I ever saw one. Directect by Ranald McDougall, even his name reads like a misspell, he was the writer of Mildred Pierce and clearly Crawford trusted him. Look at her entrance, from a distance, a subtle and no so subtle game of light and music. The turgid tale of evil and deception suffers from holes in every angle but this is not the sort of picture that can afford that kind of scrutiny. This is a showcase for the late term Crawford die hard fans. You wont be able to help but admire her devastating self confidence. She knew every trick in the book as an actress as well as a character. Queen Bee goes bye fast very fast and the moral compass is determined by Lucy Marlow when in fact it needed a sort of Anne Baxter or someone with a bit more gravitas. To be seen with a bunch of like minded friends and laugh out loud.

marcslope And you're not, Joan, in this Gothic 1955 soap. Joan's a Northerner who married into Southern aristocracy and rules the Tara-like mansion with threats, sarcasm, deceit, and in one memorable take, a quite real-looking slap at a prettier young actress. That's Lucy Marlow, who actually has what's probably the lead role in terms of length. But the focus is Joan, Joan, Joan, and while her evil-bitch persona is always entertaining--at this point in her career, she'd determined it was the way her fans wanted to see her, and she wasn't shy about pouring on the acid--it's not a very energetic or convincing movie. The children, for one thing. Aside from the fact that they're at least 20 years too young to be Joan's children (and Tim Hovey is an unusually annoying '50s kid actor), their relationship with the parental units isn't spelled out at all. What's their father (Barry Sullivan)'s attitude toward them, and vice versa? And is the ending meant to be, like, happy? And how are we supposed to feel about Jud (John Ireland)--hero or heel? It's like writer-director Ranald MacDougall just wanted to paste together a medley of evil-Joan moments and didn't really care whether the continuity made any sense. There are some memorable images, though, and a bevy of ugly '50s fashions, and the usual fawning over how lovely La Crawford is even though she isn't. That ought to keep you amused through the lulls.